Romance: JADEN: An MMA Fighter Romance (Bad Boy Tattoo Romance) (New Adult Pregnancy Short Stories) (32 page)

Vanessa took a deep breath and went into the kitchen, then. She put a hand on Zeke’s shoulder. He glanced up at her, and she saw the same passion in his eyes that she had seen last night, just before he had kissed her for the first time.

“I would like to stay for breakfast,” she said simply, and hoped that Zeke understood what she meant. Saying it out loud would mean something, but she could give him this, at least.

Zeke’s confusion cleared quickly and he gave Vanessa a tentative smile, turning and drawing her against him and tucking his chin over her head. “Okay,” he said, and it rumbled through his chest in the most amazing way.

Vanessa closed her eyes and smiled against Zeke’s bare chest.  

THE END

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Copyright 2015 by Maya Grey - All rights reserved.

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

by Maya Grey

The heat wavered in the air like waves of water that didn’t exist. It was the type of summer that broke record highs nearly every day, and everyone was complaining about the heat.

Dr. Andrew Nardell was no exception to this. The air conditioner in his office had recently broken down, and repairmen were in such high demand that he would have to wait a few more days before the temperature would once again become bearable.

He was most definitely not in the mood for a snake bite victim. No matter how pretty she might be, he did not want to move more than necessary, because every time that he did, he poured a gallon of sweat.

Nonetheless, it was a rattlesnake bite, and it would have to be taken care of quickly.

It was quite a shock when Dr. Andrew’s longtime friendly rival burst into his office with a half dead woman draped over his arms.

Dusty and covered head to toe in leather and plaid, Michael Phillips was the embodiment of the Wild West from days gone by. He even had a charmingly slow western drawl that could rival honey. It drew the women like honey; that was a known fact. That was why, when Michael came into his office bearing a female, Andrew was not surprised in the least. Less than thrilled, perhaps, but not surprised all the same.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he drawled, setting down his pen and swiping away a drip of sweat that was making its way down the side of his nose.

Michael looked nearly panicked. “We need to get her onto a table fast. She was bitten by a snake.”

“Of course she was,” Dr. Andrew sighed, standing slowly and pushing his glasses up his nose. He glanced over at Michael once more. “You know where the tables are,” he added as the cowboy continued to stand there looking like he frantically needed something to do.

As Michael took the woman into the other room, Dr. Andrew looked over the woman he had brought in. She was about their age, twenty-something going on thirty and had hair the precise color of Indian ink. It didn’t as much reflect the light as normal hair might, but suck it up like a black hole. Dr. Andrew blinked at this anomaly for several moments before moving on to other features. Despite her dark hair, her skin was smooth and pasty pale as if she never saw the light of day. Dark lashes rested on high cheekbones. She didn’t look to be wearing that much makeup—it was impossible to keep anything on one’s face at this type of year—but she was still almost as perfect as a cover model for one of those magazines Dr. Andrew never bothered to read.

Aw, hell. It certainly helped his motivation levels that he would get to work with such a beautiful woman, but goddammit, did it have to be today? Dr. Andrew glanced at the space beside the window longingly. If one sat just so, the occasional breeze would flow inside, allowing whoever was sitting in that opportune position to be the recipient of a moment of heaven. It would have to wait.

Following the cowboy’s spur-ridden footsteps, Dr. Andrew grabbed his snake bite kit and began assembling all of the needed supplies.

“What kind was it?” he asked casually.

“Rattlesnake,” Michael replied curtly.

“Shit, you should have said so sooner,” Andrew said, moving a bit quicker.

“You didn’t ask.”

Andrew turned and raised a brow at the man, lips curling down in distaste. It was just like Michael, to withhold information that might be useful to him just for the fun of seeing Andrew flounder. “For christ sakes, this isn’t the time to be so fucking annoying,” Andrew snapped, storming over to his patient. She looked listless, head lolling back and completely relaxed. An extremely twisted ironic part of him wondered if it was partially from the heat and if she had been bitten at all. “Where was she bit?” he asked a few moments later, his tone much calmer as he prepared the antivenom.

“Left leg,” Michael grunted, leaning against the wall and taking his hat off. Underneath, his hair was an artfully arrayed mess that was meant to look as if he had simply stepped out of bed but actually took a few extra minutes to style. How the cowboy pulled that off underneath a hat was beyond Andrew. He shook his head and lifted the woman’s pant leg. What the hell was she doing wearing pants in the middle of the sweltering heat spell? She must have been a special kind of crazy for that. Or perhaps she had nerves of steel that no one else could manage in this heat.

Regardless, he needed to stop thinking about her ability to wear pants and start saving her life.

After administering the antivenom, Dr. Andrew cleaned his equipment and put it away hurriedly. He had a certain cowboy to discuss matters with before his unexpected patient woke up.

###

Megan came to slowly. She couldn’t remember where she was or what the pounding pain in her leg was from, and most of all, she didn’t recognize the voice that was speaking in a low tone just off to her left.

She tried to open her eyes, but they seemed to be super-glued shut. Was it possible that someone thought that she was dead and had sewn her eyes shut? She remembered her father telling her something about how they sewed peoples’ eyes shut to keep them that way for a public viewing one time.

One of the many reasons she had been eager to escape that life.

The voice was still talking, and Megan could tell that it was male and a deep tenor, but she couldn’t discern any words. Her heart was pounding in her ears like never ending waves. Megan squeezed her eyes shut and tried to make the noise go away, to no avail.

What the hell had she been doing before she ended up in a strange place; hard wood digging into her shoulder blades and her leg pounding as if it had been chopped up with a machete? Her memory was blurry. She remembered getting off of the plane and grabbing her bags from the conveyer belt; remembered calling a taxi and checking into her hotel.

She remembered seeing the handsome cowboy with the sweet-as-sugar western drawl that was endearing enough to convince her to go on a horse ride with him. He had driven her to the stables that she had seen upon entering the quaint little town that still held traces of the “old west” and let her pick out her own horse. Megan also remembered getting off of the appaloosa to look at the view over a deep valley. It had been a deep red that wasn’t quite the shade of blood and interspersed with scrubby little plants that were too short and sparse to be called trees. She remembered leaning over the edge to look at the water more closely, the cowboy—whose name she couldn’t remember for the life of her at the moment—shouting at her to step back and then… nothing. A black stretch of nothingness in her memory.

Where was her, and who was talking?

Cool hands brushed her forehead and Megan couldn’t quite find the energy to flinch at the foreign touch. “Are you able to hear me?”

Blind. She was blind. The light was blindingly bright, like the sun. She should look away. Megan blinked a few times before she realized that her eyes were open and she was having something painfully bright shone into her eyes.

“Pupil response is normal. She should be coming around in a few moments, Michael. Then we can hear her side of the story.”

Michael; that was his name. Megan laughed at herself. It was such a simple name, and not one she should have forgotten. Her first boyfriend’s name had been Michael. They had broken up after two weeks and one lousy kiss; but everyone remembered their first “real” date, horribleness aside.

Wait, had his words just made sense? The pounding sound was gone and Megan could hear the tick of a clock and the whirr of a fan. The second thing she noticed was the physical sensations all around her. It was unbearably hot. She should have paid attention to her mother’s advice and brought shorts instead of jeans.

Megan blinked a bit deliriously and everything swam into focus. There was a man standing over her, quite possibly the polar opposite of her cowboy. He had hair the color of corn silk and startling blue eyes that seemed to glow from the sheer intensity that they emitted. She blinked at his very undeniably handsome face a few more times and then remembered how to speak.

“Where am I?” she asked. The words blurred together as if she had drunk too much.

“A doctor’s office,” the man said, the frown line between his brows leaving after a moment. He leaned back, looking over towards the other side of the room. “You’re lucky that this man brought you here as quickly as he did. Rattlesnake bites can be fatal, you know.” His voice had the same slow, western accent, but his words were pronounced with efficiency and effectively clipped off when they needed to be. A doctor’s voice. The combination was startling, but not altogether unpleasant. She could get used to that voice rather quickly.

Snapping herself out of the daze she was still half in, Megan focused on the doctor’s actual words. “Rattlesnake bite?”

“This idiot,” the doctor said sardonically, shooting a none-too-friendly look at Michael, “decided that it would be a good idea to take you on a ride. You got bit by a rattler and he was lucky enough that I happened to be unoccupied at the moment.”

“You’re never occupied, Andrew,” Michael said. His deeper voice still managed to send shivers down Megan’s spine. She wanted to turn and look at the cowboy, to see his face and possibly that incredibly sexy smirk that did things to her nether regions, but she couldn’t move a muscle. She felt her arms twitch in preparation to lift her up, but they didn’t do a damn thing besides that.

The doctor—Andrew—scoffed and slid his arms out of his jacket. Damn, Megan thought. If only they made doctors like that where I come from. From the way his shirt was sticking to his body in the heat, she could tell that he worked out—hard and well. How had he even been able to wear that hot doctor’s jacket in the first place? And why would he want to with a body like that?

Megan attempted to sit up and let out a gasp of pain as the wound on her leg—had she seriously been bitten by a goddamn rattlesnake on her first day away from the city life that she was so eager to get away from?—twanged in sympathy.

Andrew was instantly by her side, hovering over her, that frown line that was admittedly adorable present once more between his eyebrows. “Don’t move quite yet, darlin’,” he said. “You’ll upset the process of the antivenom.” Megan’s mind got tripped up on the ‘darlin’’ for a few long and heart stopping moments before she remembered that this was the wild old west where everyone called everyone else ‘darlin’’ like a second name and said, ‘howdy’ as an actual way of greeting each other.

“O-okay,” she stuttered as he checked her leg once more, pinching the linen cloth of her trousers in his thumb and forefinger. He glanced down at the wound and his frown deepened.

“You shouldn’t move until the swelling has gone down a bit,” he added, looking back up at her. He dropped her pant leg and stood, all business. “While we wait, I need to get your information.”

“Information?”

“Full name, address, blood type, birth date, social—all of the information that goes on the official report. Oh, and whether you want to pay with cash or credit.”

There was a snort on the other side of the room, and Megan finally found the strength in her neck to crane her head back and glance at the cowboy occupying most of the space alongside the furthest wall away from her table bed. He stood, arms crossed over his chest. His flannel had been loosened as to allow him to roll the sleeves up over his muscular arms and his cowboy hat was perched on the desk beside where he was leaning. He looked even better after she had snake venom in her system, she had to admit. “Already asking her about payment,” he said and tsked. “Andrew was never a gentleman,” he said, turning that half-quirked grin on Megan. She found her lips twitching up in response.

Before she could reply, Andrew had made a disgusted noise of his own and pressed Megan’s shoulders into the table so that she would have to look away from Michael. “I said rest,” he instructed firmly but not unkindly. He grinned back at Michael. “And you were always too much the gentleman.”

“There’s no such thing,” Michael said dryly.

Listening to the two men bicker like an old married couple was doing wonders for relieving the stress that had coiled tight in every muscle in Megan’s body and she found herself relaxing into the wooden table slowly. Even if she had no clue where she was or what she would do after she got done with whatever paperwork they threw at her, she finally felt as if she belonged.

That was something that had never happened in her family. Doctors, lawyers and entrepreneurs were what her family was made up of. They were all analytical, cold and distant; never around much for anything and never—God forbid—showing any type of emotion. As an artist and free spirit, Megan had always been the black sheep of the family. She had no taste for the things that they did, and they had no way to understand her. They had tried to make her conform, tried to get her into Stanford and Harvard, but she had run away from the place she was meant to call home from the very moment it was legal to do so and not looked back.

It was hard, pretending as if one’s family didn’t exist. They still existed everywhere, and running into an estranged mother occasionally was something uncomfortable but all too familiar for Megan.

After last week’s disastrous run-in with her sister-in-law, she had wanted to get away from it all. Thus, the random and completely unplanned trip to the west. It had been the most affordable region furthest from New York and the sterile home Megan had grown up in. She didn’t particularly care for horses or the heat, but if it was away from home then it would be the best place in the world for her.