Kiss My Boots (Coming Home #2)

Now, not only do I have to move mountains to just get her to agree to see me again, but I have a feelin’ the hurdles I need to jump to earn her heart back just got a lot higher.

On top of all that, I had to call my phone company this morning to have Ella’s number blocked so she can’t contact me. She just can’t get a clue and honestly, I’m sick of it. I’m not taking any chances. At least this way it’s fucking done with, and I pray to God things work out with Quinn and me, and that Ella will never be a fucking factor. I’ve got enough of the past trying to ruin things because of what I did: the last thing I want to do is add to that with a meaningless hookup making waves.

With a loud sigh, I stand from the desk and stretch my back. The tails of my flannel come untucked from my dark jeans—something I never would have been able to wear back in Georgia, but a comfort I’m afforded now that I’m back in Texas. I don’t even bother to fix them: instead, I make my way out of the office and to the front desk. The office is empty now that five has hit, but the two nurses and a receptionist are still milling around. I see Carrie, the appointment and file clerk, and give her a smile. It’s time to make a fresh start.

“Ladies,” I greet, gaining each of their hesitant eyes. “I wanted to apologize for my mood the last two days. It wasn’t my intention to have y’all’s first impression of my abilities and me as a doctor be tainted with some personal issues I let carry me through the doors. Y’all have my promise that it won’t happen again, and I hope we can forget this unfortunate start and move forward. I know my paw left me some mighty shoes to fill, but I’ll do my damnedest to make sure I don’t let his memory or y’all’s trust down.”

Each of them looks shocked by the time I finish talking, but just as quickly as that shock filled them, they smile. Carrie gives me a shy nod. Rebecca, one of the nurses, does the same.

“Consider it forgotten, son,” Claire, the receptionist who’s been here as long as the doors have been open, says while smiling up at me.

“One thing’s for sure, you got your temper from Fisher,” Gladys, another nurse and longtime staff member, snorts. Her laughter lightens the mood instantly.

“Reckon so, Gladys,” I agree with a smile, remembering how hot my paw’s temper could really get in the rare instances that he let someone get under his skin.

“I’m gonna go tell Russ to head on out. You ladies should get home, too. I’m just goin’ to spend some more time goin’ over the patients I have tomorrow.”

“Dr. Lyons already headed out, Dr. Montgomery.”

“Well, then you ladies should follow his lead and go home too. We’re not likely to get any patients in the next hour we’re supposed to be open, since my schedule is clear.” I sigh with a smile.

They all relax visibly and start to move around the reception area. I grab the check-in clipboard and start straightening out the pens in the small coffee-bean pot while I wait for them to finish so that I can lock up behind them.

Mindlessly focused on the pamphlets I moved on to after the pens, I don’t hear Gladys right away, her cold-as-hell hand reaching out to lightly grab my wrist, pulling me from my thoughts. “Uh, are you sure you didn’t take an appointment and forget to put it on the books?”

I frown. “I’m sure, Gladys. Why do you ask?”

“Well, this should be interesting then,” she oddly murmurs under her breath right before the front door opens so hard it slams against the wall before flinging back toward its frame, stopping when a palm smacks against it.

The pamphlets in my hand are instantly forgotten when I see who’s standing just outside the front door of the old house just off Main Street that my paw converted into his practice almost fifty years ago.

“You,” she growls low, lips thinned and eyes narrowed. The hand that isn’t holding the front door open is pointed at me, but other than lifting it to do so, she hasn’t moved an inch.

“Quinn, honey, did you have an appointment today?” Gladys, bless her heart, questions in an attempt to extinguish some of the fire spewing from Quinn’s posture alone.

Quinn snorts, clearing her expression before looking away from me, smiling sweet as sugar at Gladys. “No, ma’am, I do not.”

“Did you want to make one, honey?”

“Oh, no. I definitely do not.”

I hear Gladys moving some papers around but interrupt her before she can further question the tempting vixen in front of me. Who would have thought someone clearly wanting to murder me would be so fuckin’ sexy?

“You go on home, Gladys. Quinn’s not here for any appointment you’ll find on the books. Reckon she’s here because we’ve got some unfinished business to discuss,” I say, smiling at Gladys while her mouth twitches, not realizing just how that sounded until I feel a sharp, poking finger on my shoulder.

A second later, that smile is wiped right off my face. I turn from Gladys, and just before my eyes connect with the heated emerald irises I only saw in my fuckin’ dreams for years, Quinn’s ire slams full force into me, just as powerful as a physical blow.

“Unfinished business my ass, you good-for-nothin’ asshole.” She checks me with her shoulder, hitting me just under my pec since she’s so damn short, before stomping down the hallway and into my new office.

Rubbing my chest, I give the ladies a nod. “If you don’t mind, I’ll see y’all out before I go take care of the spitfire in my office.”

Not having to be told twice, everyone moves a little quicker before leaving. I lock the door and take a deep, hopefully calming, breath before following the path Quinn just fumed down moments before.

I find her pacing in front of the desk. Not wanting to give her the reach to inflict any more damage, I rest my shoulder against the frame and watch her move. Her long, dark-as-night hair has some highlights dancing through the thickness that I don’t remember seeing the other morning. Other than that, though, she doesn’t look like she’s aged at all since the summer I left. Even covered by the worn jeans she’s wearing, her legs look just as long and toned as they used to be. I know from the other night that her stomach is still firm and smooth. Even though she had a bra on the other morning, I imagine her chest is just as impressive bared as it was the night she rode my body, giving me a piece of her that no man had ever had.

She’s beautiful. Always had been, but now she’s got the confidence that an eighteen-year-old could never understand, let alone exude.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that, Starch.”

I look down my body, ignoring the very noticeable bulge of my hard-as-fuck cock, before raising a brow at Quinn. “Not sure that nickname works anymore, sweetheart. A lot’s changed since my parents forced me to dress the part of perfect socialite son and private-school robot.”