Page 40 of Dr. Stone (Billionaires’ Club #9)
“Look at you, Dr. Stone,” I said with a smile. “Reading medical breakthroughs to Brandon like bedtime stories one night, playing football with kids the next? I’ve got to admit, I didn’t have you pegged as the kid type.”
His cheeks blushed. “Quite honestly, I didn’t either,” he shrugged his shoulders.
“Before your cute ass came along and wrecked my plans in life, I was a book nerd, science geek, and sailboat enthusiast. And now look at me? Reading to little ones in a rocking chair after nearly having my dick bitten off by a two-pound rat disguised as a fucking dog,” he said, popping the last of the sandwich in his mouth.
“Well, if it means anything, I am impressed with your astonishing adaptability,” I smiled, closing my sandwich up in its wrapper.
“You going to eat that, gorgeous?” Jace’s eyes went to the half of the sandwich I was too full to finish.
“It’s yours. You’ve earned it,” I said, handing it to him.
“This shit is delicious,” he said. “Did you make it yourself? Because if so, I might be down to move this relationship swiftly to marriage,” he winked and took another bite.
“It’s from a bakery where Ash and I usually get lunch and coffee. Their croissants are made fresh every morning. I think that’s what makes the difference.”
“That and the opium they sprinkle on top,” he said, devouring the last bite and standing up.
He extended a hand down toward mine. “I’d love to show you what I fantasize about with you in this office on my slow days, but sadly, my next appointment is in fifteen minutes,” he pulled me in, his lips covering my neck, then running up to my jaw.
“I’d love that,” I said, running my fingers through his soft hair and allowing his rich cologne to assault my senses, “but I need to get out of here and finish picking up supplies for the gallery before getting Brandon and Duke from the sitter’s house.”
“The sitter watches that little shithead now?”
“She loves him, and he loves her and all the kids,” I laughed.
“Perfect fucking dog to everyone but me and Jake,” he rolled his eyes, then pulled me in tighter. “Let me walk you to your car before my next appointment.”
“That’s not necessary,” I said. “Stay here and prep yourself. I just wanted to sneak in a little lunch since we didn’t get to the other day.” I stepped back and eyed him up and down, “You know, you look hot as hell dressed up as Dr. Stone.”
“You’re about to get fucked on that desk, and this time I’ll ensure we both finish without interruptions,” he eyed me.
“How about this?” he said as if a thought just hit him.
“Tonight, I’m off at eight, so it may be too late to come over, but how about I get out of work early tomorrow so we can take out my sailboat?
Are you comfortable with Brandon out on the boat? ”
“That depends on what kind of sailor you are, doctor?”
“I’ve been doing it since I was a kid,” he shrugged. “I don’t mean to brag, but all the other rich little white boys in the Hamptons were jealous of my skills.”
“Oh, yeah?” I laughed. “In that case, I suppose I could trust you with our lives. If Archibald Willoughby VI and Little Preston Vanderbilt envied you, you must’ve been the best.”
His eyes narrowed. “How do you know Archibald?” he teased my made-up little rich boy names as I rolled my eyes. “Okay, fair enough. But seriously, you also know your shit when it comes to sailing, don’t you?”
“I guess you’ll just have to take out me, Brandon, and Duke tomorrow to find out, won’t you?”
“Spoken like a true Willoughby,” he taunted as I nudged his side and laughed. “Well, okay, we’re going to get to the bottom of this once and for all tomorrow because I’ll throw that bitch yapping hoe over the side if he doesn’t find his place around my ass.”
“Bitch yapping hoe, is it now?” I arched my eyebrow playfully.
“Jake nicknamed him that after he had a similar run-in with the little asshole when they watched him for you,” he laughed. “The official name we call him now is bitch yapper .”
“Jesus Christ,” I shouldered my purse. “You know that giving the poor dog a rapper name only makes him more of a thug, right?”
“If that’s a rapper name, it’s the worst of all time. Regardless, there’s no way he gets to hold on to John Wayne’s name while acting like the little cockblocker he is.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, handsome,” I said, knowing he needed to prep for his next patient. Truthfully, I just needed to get out of there before I ripped that medical coat off him and did all the things women fantasize about with hot doctors behind closed office doors.
His gaze raked me once, slow and hot, like he was already undressing me in his head. “Tomorrow,” he said, voice low, a promise more than a word.
Truth was, I needed to leave before I ripped that coat off him.
Tomorrow, on his boat. After seeing him here—in his world of glass and steel, command and precision—I couldn’t wait to see him in another. Wind in his hair, water at his back, his hands on the wheel… and maybe on me.
For the first time in a long time, it didn’t just feel like the start of something.
It felt like the start of everything.