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Nothing Compares – His One And Only
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Grey Blackwell has a reputation around our small town. Talented. Hard-working. And the best surgeon the hospital’s ever seen. But I say he’s cold-blooded. Too cocky for his own good and to-be-avoided at-all-costs.
And then my perfect plan to avoid his ruggedly charming self goes to hell in a handbasket when my trusty old car dives nose first into a tree. But luckily for me, Dr. Grey Blackwell rescued me from a fiery death, and now unluckily for me, I can’t stop thinking about his tousled, grip-it-while-he’s-ravishing-you hair and that chiseled jawline with the perfect hint of five o’clock shadow.
Dr. Grey Blackwell and his irresistible anatomy are doing just fine–it’s my heart that’s under strict quarantine from this devilishly dreamy hotshot doc.
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“Amelia May Weaver, if you cancel one more ladies’ night out with me, I swear to God I will drive right up there and kick your ass!” My best friend’s voice screeched over the speakers of my car.
I sighed, turning down the volume as my eyes struggled to focus on the dim road ahead of me. I was already late for our date, but work had taken longer again, tonight, and I didn’t have time to even shower–much less think about drinks with Kiley.
Her voicemail ended and my music switched back to the opening lines of a Rush song I’d loved since I was a kid. The screaming guitar notes radiating from his workshop late into the night always put a smile on my face. They were my dad’s favorite band; the first song we danced to around the living room when I was a little kid was Closer to the Heart, wild fits of giggles following us.
I squinted as fat raindrops started to splash the windshield, the clock on the dash telling me it was already after nine, my stomach long overdue for any sort of food. I was just making a mental note of what exactly I still had in my fridge when Rush cut out and the ringtone I used for Kiley lit up the speakers.
I groaned, stealing my eyes from the road for a moment to end her call. I sighed as I hit silence, thinking I would have a lot of explaining to do, but I knew she’d understand. My best friend since fourth grade, Kiley was wild and impulsive and such a joy in my otherwise dim life.
She’d always wanted what was best for me. When I was on-call 24/7 in high school, helping my father with his oxygen as he struggled to breathe while he waited for a lung transplant, it was her that came to help me with homework when I was bleary-eyed and late for morning class. And I’m sure she only wanted what was best for me now that Dad was gone; the blank space left in my heart still ached with loneliness. It may have been six months since he’d lost his battle to pulmonary fibrosis, but for me, it felt like only yesterday.
Rush screamed back on the speakers then, adding a smile to my face just as a dark shadow tore across my high beams. I hit the brakes on instinct, swerving to avoid the rogue creature just as a curve came out of nowhere and my nose dove headfirst into a towering evergreen.
Fear quaked through me as the car shuddered to a halt, smoke and steam rising from the engine as Rush screamed into the wind.
“Son of a bitch!” I slammed my palm against the wheel.
“At your service.” A deep voice rumbled as the driver’s side door opened and heavy palms came to rest on my thighs. “Are you okay?”
My heart shuddered to a halt faster than the car just had. “Uhm.”
A lump the size of a boot lodged in my throat as my eyes traveled up the strong forearms and biceps, across a solid slab of muscled shoulder, and then laid on the most familiar luminous green eyes I had seen in a very long time. “Do you know what year it is?”
“Ugh.” I barely croaked.
“That doesn’t sound good. Does your head hurt? You might be concussed.”
I frowned, the only thing aching right now was my desire to be closer to my handsome hero. “I’m not concussed.” I clamped down on my lip. “I know exactly who you are.”
His intense gaze narrowed before shooting down my body. One hand traveled up my thigh and squeezed softly before reaching for my wrist and bringing it to just out of reach of his lips. He turned it over, inspecting it softly before doing the same to my other hand. “Does your neck hurt?”
I shook my head.
“Whiplash can take time to set in.” He settled my hands on his knee before he tipped my chin to catch his gaze. “Can I touch you?”
“Wh-hat?” I stuttered. Had I really just slammed nose first into a tree and am now dreaming? Maybe I was concussed and he was a mirage. “Is this real?”
He cracked into a lopsided grin, a soft chuckle falling from his impossibly full lips. “I’m a doctor.”
“Oh man, this must be a dream. Wake up, Amelia, wake up!” I pinched my wrist, wincing with the pain.
He openly laughed then, stopping my pinching with his warm hand. “I can assure you, I’m very real.”
“No, you’re definitely not. It’s been fifteen years.”
He grinned, eyes twinkling like they were flecked with golden-green glitter. His jaw was angled sharply and chiseled like it was made of marble, and the broad stretch of his body filling up my tiny space was a clear indication that he worked out. A lot. Things had sure changed from the skinny kid he used to be.