Page 7 of My Reluctant Valentine

“What exactly are you proposing, little doctor?”

She straightened her shoulders. “I’m proposing that while you’re teaching me to drive again... maybe you could teach me other things too.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Ella

“Dr. Hawkins, there’s a rather intimidating man in tactical gear waiting at reception.”

I nearly dropped the chart I was working on when the nurse called me from the doorway of my borrowed office. I’d agreed to take over the pediatric practice of a doctor in Hope Peak, a town just a few miles over from my hometown of Middleton. I’d needed a change of scenery. Well, honestly, I’d needed out from under my brother’s watchful—and highly overprotective eye. Coming here had been two-fold. The doctor had needed someone to fill in for him while he dealt with some personal matters—and he was seriously thinking of retiring.

While I loved working at the hospital in Middleton, I really wanted to have my own practice. Sally, the nurse who had just called my name, had been a friend in high school and had contacted me about the opportunity.

“Ella, did you hear me?” She popped her head around the doorframe. Like me, she had curves in all the right places, but unlike me, she had a ring on her finger and a loving husband at home. I envied that even more than my embarrassing virgin status. What I really wanted wasn’t just someone to share my bed—I wanted someone to share Sunday morning coffee with, someone to argue about paint colors with, someone to grow old beside me.

Of course, Cole’s face instantly materialized in my thoughts. My potential candidate for… everything? Honestly, I didn’t know how I was going to face him. Not after my outrageous proposal. Not that I’d spent all day thinking about how he’d just sat there in stony silence after my proposition, looking like I’d hit him with a defibrillator. Or how he’d dropped me off with a muttered ‘I’ll be back’ channeling an extremely attractive Terminator.

Nope. Hadn’t thought about that at all.

“That’s my... driver.” The word felt inadequate for what Cole was. Security professional? Walking fantasy? The man I had propositioned over pancakes like some medical textbook version of a Penthouse letter?

“Driver?” Sally arched an eyebrow. “Honey, that man looks like he eats rocks for breakfast and could bench press a truck.”

And there was. So much more. I’d tried all day not to relive every moment of this morning’s breakfast. Had I really quoted arousal statistics at him? Asked him to be my personal sex tutor? Yikes. My brain needed a reset button.

“He’s my brother’s friend,” I managed. “After the accident, I still can’t...” I swallowed hard. “Drive. In the snow.”

Understanding softened her expression. “It takes time.”

I nodded, grateful she didn’t push. Two years of therapy had helped with the panic attacks.

“Jake—my brother—asked Cole to drive me around while I’m here.” And I’d responded by asking him to drive me straight into an orgasm.Smooth, Ella. Real smooth.

“Oh,” she said, as if remembering something. “Is he part of Elite Transportation? They do a really good job in Hope Peak. They’ve even braved our crazier weather getting emergency transports to the hospital when no one else would risk it.”

That sounded like Cole. And Jake. Two heroes.

Sally looked at me with keen eyes. “I’m guessing from the look on your face there is more to this than him being your driver.”

Maybe, I thought. Hopefully, mentally crossing my fingers. “I may have... proposed an additional, um, service he could provide.”

Her eyes widened. “Girl, did you try to seduce him with medical terminology?” I’d joined a group chat for the practice when I’d agreed to fill in for the doctor. The nurses and staff had learned quickly about my nervous habit of spewing terminology and statistics when I was nervous—and had become so sweetly supportive.

“Maybe?” I groaned, covering my face. “I quoted arousal statistics at him. Over pancakes. Who does that?”

Sally’s laughter echoed through the small office. “Only you, honey. Only you. And how did Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Tactical respond?”

“He didn’t.” I peeked through my fingers. “He just sat there looking stunned, then drove me here in complete silence. I think I broke him. Can you die from sexual frustration combined with mortification? Because that should be a documented medical condition.”

“I don’t think that’s covered by insurance.” She patted my arm. “But if it makes you feel better, he’s been here twenty minutes already, looking like he wants to storm the offices to find you.”

My heart fluttered. I’d tried to spend the day focusing on patients instead of remembering the way his eyes had darkened at breakfast. How his hands had clenched around his coffee mug when I’d started quoting statistics. The growl in his voice when he’d said my name.

“Just promise me one thing?” She handed me my coat. “When you finally get him to give you those ‘additionallessons,’ start with basic anatomy before moving to advanced techniques.”

“I’m never living this down, am I?”

“Not a chance.” She grinned. “Now go get your man. And remember—proper breathing techniques are essential for optimal performance.”

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