Page 9 of Dr. Fellow

“What the fuck is Team Daddies?” Beau asks, furrowing his bushy brows.

“It’s the group text between me, Claire, and Cass. We talk about romance books and how small your dicks are.”

The first part of my statement is true. I finally got the green light from Cass on a group text name because the one trope we all agree on is a single dad romance. There’s just nothing sexier than a hot dad who knows how to get down in pound town.

Beau shoots me a salacious smirk. “Mine’s bigger than Parker’s though, right?”

I roll my eyes, annoyed that I got myself into this situation. “Not from what I heard.”

I’m lying through my teeth because the one thing we definitely do not talk about in the group chat is the size of their boyfriends’ penises. I’m pretty sure Claire would lose her shit if anything sexual about her brother was shared—those details are unfortunately reserved for me.

Beau blows a raspberry and hands me back my phone. “Well, size doesn’t matter when you know how to use it.”

“Tell that to my current book boyfriend who has the girth of a soda can.”

“That’s not even anatomically possible,” Walker comments out of nowhere.

Beau and I glance at him and then back at each other before we burst out laughing.

“Obviously,” Beau says once he catches his breath. He claps his hand on Walker’s shoulder. “But that’s what women think they want.”

Walker looks genuinely perplexed as his expressionless eyes roam over my frame. “You’re so tiny. Even if you wanted to, there’s no way you could take a cock that big.”

He’s assessing me in the most clinical way possible, but my skin still feels like it’s boiling under his gaze. It makes me wonder what it would be like if we continued what we started a month ago—if our sizzle would turn into a simmer, or completely boil over.

So when his eyes find mine again, I shoot him a wink and say as seductively as possible, “Oh, Walker, I could take it.”

His dark pupils widen momentarily, like my response caught him off guard. “I seriously doubt that.”

We probably look ridiculous right now, staring each other down in the middle of the ER, but I couldn’t care less. This spark is the thing I’ve been missing with every other guy—a volt of electricity that makes my body come alive.

“Hmmm,” I muse, completely ignoring the fact that Beau is still standing beside us. “Ever heard of the size-gap trope?”

Walker cocks his head like he misheard me.

“You know, when the guy is way bigger than the girl,” I add.

I drag my gaze over his looming frame in a way that overtly signals I’m talking about us, because even with my tennis shoes on, he has over a foot on me.

“I got that, but what the fuck is a trope?”

“It’s like a theme in romance books,” I explain. “For example, this moron is a prime example of the secret relationship trope.”

I point to Beau, who groans dramatically. “Oh god, not this shit again.”

“What’s the problem?” I ask sweetly. “Big, bad Beau can’t be bothered to understand what women want?”

“I only have one woman to understand, and I’ve got that under control, thank you very much.”

“Sure you do,” I taunt, making a lewd gesture.

Beau shakes his head. “With that, I’m out,” he says with a loud exhale. “Morg, I love you, but sometimes you’re exhausting.”

“Not everyone can keep up, old man,” I reply. “Go find your girlfriend and tell her to bring me back some Diet Coke, please. I’ll be here educating Walker on my favorite books.”

Beau shoots Walker an apologetic glance and mouths the word “sorry” before he turns on his heel and scurries away.

I peer up at the handsome, yet intimidating, man still standing next to me. He looks just as exasperated as Beau, but instead of running away, he stays. And that tells me everything I need to know about Walker Chastain. He might not want to be interested in me . . . but he damn well is.

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