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Alexi
I hate doctors.
Hate everything about going to see them.
The cold rooms, the stern faces, the way they act like they know your whole life because of a clipboard.
So when I get sick, I put it off as long as humanly possible, but my fever is getting worse, so I bite the bullet and drag my miserable butt into Wolf Valley Medical.
I’m prepared for a shot or some vile-tasting medicine.
What I wasn’t prepared for was Dr. Hugh Mercer.
Tall, broad, annoyingly handsome, and so grumpy he makes thunderstorms look cheerful.
He should be intimidating, but he’s almost… gentle.
For some reason, he looks at me like I’m the most important thing he’s seen all day.
I rush out when we’re done, but now, every time I turn a corner, he’s there.
Checking on me.
Asking if I’m eating.
Offering to drive me home.
And I keep doing the only reasonable thing I can think of.
Running in the opposite direction.
Hugh
I’ve been a doctor for years.
I’ve met every kind of patient—nervous, stubborn, loud, angry—but nothing prepared me for Alexi.
She walks into my exam room with flushed cheeks, a runny nose, and enough attitude to take down an entire ER.
And I fall.
Hard.
She hates doctors, hates asking for help, and hates that I can read her fever from across the room, but I don’t care.
I care about her.
The woman who refuses to slow down even when she’s sick.
The woman who blushes every time I get too close.
The woman who keeps staring at me like I’m the one who needs medical attention.
Now I just have to figure out how to get her to stop running long enough to see the truth.
She doesn’t need a doctor.
She needs me.
And I’m not giving up on her or us.
