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In my next life, I’m coming back with money and good looks instead of all this sparkling personality bullshit.

— Aella’s secret thoughts

AELLA

“Hey, darling.”

I gritted my teeth, smiled, and turned to the doctor that spoke to me like I was a cute painting on a wall instead of a full blood person.

“Hello, Dr. Marsh.” I tried to smile, but I was afraid it’d come out more like a grimace.

“Are you leaving?” he asked, looking hopeful.

I grimaced. “Actually, I’m headed to the bus stop right now.”

When I said I was taking the bus, he was sad, because the bus stop was right on the edge of the parking lot right outside the ER’s main entrance.

“Bummer.” His eyes lit, hopeful. “Would you like a ride?”

“Oh, no thank you. I’m the first stop, and I have to head to the grocery store and visit with my sister anyway.”

Dr. Marsh looked heartbroken at my lie, but I didn’t want him to know that I drove home. My luck he’d follow me.

I didn’t know what it would take to make this man get a clue.

I mean, seriously.

He’d asked and asked, and I’d turned him down every single time. And this had been going on for over a freakin’ year.

Was I going to have to be more blunt? Tell him I wanted nothing to do with him?

I felt like that was a little bit too harsh.

I mean, he hadn’t actually asked me out yet. Though I knew he was trying to work up the courage.

“Have a good one.” I smiled, though it didn’t reach my eyes.

Dr. Marsh waved, and I hurried away, hoping that I wouldn’t be stopped again.

Luckily, I wasn’t and made it to my car that was well over six blocks away in about eight minutes.

My thighs chafed at all the walking I had to do in the most uncomfortable pair of scrubs that I owned.

These were my backups, the ones that I only wore when I had to.

And since I hadn’t been able to get to the laundry for a few days, it was a ‘had to’ moment.

The inner thighs of these scrubs were downright translucent and offered no real coverage. Any second, they’d give way just like all my pants did, and I’d have holes from them giving out.

My thighs were just that mighty…

Spying my car in the distance, I lengthened my stride and breathed a sigh of relief when I could fit the key into the lock.

As I got into my car, my mind was on what I had to do tonight.

First things first was to get my rent paid. I had exactly an hour and a half to get home, get my money, and then get it to the leasing office before they closed for the day.

This was, according to Maureen, the last day that I could be late and still live at the apartment complex.

Which was quite laughable because the apartment complex that she managed was a rundown joke of a building that people moved out of all the time.

In fact, there were eighteen units out of forty-eight that were empty right now because of the living conditions.

Gritting my teeth, I put my foot down into the clutch and cranked it.

Or tried to.

Nothing happened.

I sighed, put the car in neutral, then got out.

Once I had the car rolling a little bit, I got back in and allowed the car to roll down the hill of the street. In the process, I lost one of my shoes in my haste to get inside.

Once I had enough momentum, I popped the clutch, and the car grumbled to life.

That process was exactly why I parked exactly where I did so far away from the hospital.

Because when you were on a hill, and you had a manual car, you could pop the clutch if the battery was dead.

And since I needed to replace my battery, and it was often dead, I did this a lot.

I didn’t usually do it in front of a sexy biker, though, that watched me the entire time.

Not that I was aware of being watched.

Had I known, I might’ve left my shoe behind and just taken off.

Instead, I pulled the emergency brake up, got out, and headed for my shoe that was about fifteen feet in front of me.

In a man’s hand.

A man on a Harley, wearing a helmet, in hospital scrubs.

He flipped up the visor, and I could tell he was grinning as he held out my shoe to me.

I gave him a forced smile and said, “Thanks.”

His brown eyes sparkled as he said, “No problem, doll face.”

I tilted my head, and then I realized who, exactly, had witnessed my embarrassment.

Dr. Clayborne.

The anesthesiologist.

Son.

Of.

A.

Bitch.

If there was one man in the world that I didn’t want witnessing my embarrassment, it would be him.

Dr. Clayborne, also known as Chevy to his friends, but not me, was a knock-out.

I didn’t know if you could consider alpha male badasses as knockouts, but if you could, it would be him.

He was tall, broad, and had these muscles that just begged to be squeezed.

He wasn’t exactly super nice, though, so I’d not been able to get to know him as well as the others on the surgical unit.

I’d been working as a tech in surgery for well over a year now, and I got along with most people pretty well.

But I’d never really gotten to know Dr. Clayborne.

He was an enigma, and every single part of my being was enraptured every time he walked in a thirty-foot vicinity of me.

“Thanks,” I said as I slipped it on.

He watched, likely noting how worn out my shoes were, too, but didn’t comment.

“Something wrong with your car?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Something’s always wrong with my car.”

His head tilted, and I could tell that he wanted to know more.

But, since I had places to be, and the man intimidated the hell out of me, I smiled, waved, and took off back toward my car.

My ass jiggled as I went, and I wondered if he noticed.

Likely he did.

It was hard not to notice the way my ass was.

I had a pear body shape.

I had a small upper body, that looked like I spent all my days in the gym. Two very toned arms and a nice, trim waist. But then you got to my hips, which were well and truly birthing hips. I had a fat ass, thick thighs, and dainty feet.

I was what I considered weird looking.

My boyfriends had always liked my ass, though.

Maybe it was good.

I didn’t know.

What I did know was that my thighs, hips and waist made it nearly impossible to find a pair of freakin’ pants that fit well.

I tried not to think about Dr. Clayborne as I headed home, but that proved to be an impossibility.

When I parked my car, I passed my parking space that the complex allotted me and parked on the street at the nearest hill. Then I dragged my tired body the two blocks to my apartment complex and headed up the four flights of stairs.

The first thing I noticed when I got there was that my door was unlocked.

I groaned and hoped that didn’t mean that I would find my sister inside.

I loved my sister dearly, but I was tired, and the only thing I wanted to do was go pay my rent, then go to bed.

However, when I got there, the door was already partially open.

I deflated.

My mom had been here.

And the only time my mom came to my place was to steal my money when she ran out.

Fuckkkk.

“No, no, no,” I repeated as I rushed into my bedroom.

I closed my eyes when I saw my footlocker that I kept underneath my bed open.

Luckily, I didn’t keep very much cash in there anymore because my mom had done this so many times that I’d learned.

I went to the bathroom toilet, then lifted the lid.

“Fuck,” I grumbled when I saw my stash in there missing.

Here’s where most people say “well, Aella, why don’t you have your money in the bank instead of stashed all over your apartment?”

Well, that was because my mom was a complete asshole.

When I was growing up, my mother liked to fuck over both my sister, Silver, and me.

When we were young, she’d started taking out loans in our names, using our Social Security numbers.

When I was two, she’d taken out a mortgage in my name.

When Silver was thirteen, my mom had bought a car in Silver’s name.

From then on, we’d had ruined credit and the inability to use a bank because my mother had committed so much fraud in our names.

To this day, I was still unable to get a bank account, even though I tried once a year.

Which led to me learning how to hide my money so that my mother couldn’t steal anymore of it.

I’d also let my landlord know that, in no uncertain terms, my mother was never, ever allowed at my place. If she was allowed into my place, I would press charges.

Why did I have to make that threat?

Because all of my landlords always fell for my mother’s sweet talking, southern charm.

And I got cleaned out and unable to pay my rent.

As it was, I was month-to-month because no one would allow me to have a lease because of my credit.

Not to mention, the only places I was allowed to live were places that didn’t do credit checks or were shady as hell.

After finding the toilet stash gone, which added up to about five hundred bucks, I went in search of my rent money, already knowing what I would find.

Gone.

All of it.

I fisted my hands and counted to ten.

Then I left and marched down to the office.

I found Maureen there, waiting impatiently.

She was waiting for me, I knew.

“Did you let my mother into my apartment?” I asked.

Because that was the thing.

She had to have been let in.

I know my lock was a standard issue apartment lock, but my landlord, my sister, and I were the only ones with a key.

Maureen’s cheeks reddened. “She said that she had bones for your dogs.”

“She gave them bones all right,” I grumbled. “But I don’t have any dogs, so she just left those bones on the ground next to my door. What was it that I specifically told you when I moved in?”

She looked angry. “She’s your mother.”

“She’s a goddamn con woman that steals my rent every time she comes into the apartment!” I cried out. “I told you that for a reason! Now I can’t pay rent because you allowed someone to break into my home.”

Maureen’s eyes narrowed. “You still owe rent.”

“I’ll pay rent,” I said. “But only when I get it back from my mother.”

“That’ll be today?” she asked. “If you don’t pay by the end of the day, you’ll be evicted.”

“You won’t evict me,” I challenged. “Want to know why?”

The older woman narrowed her eyes and said, “Why?”

“Because I’ll beat the shit out of you if you do.” I turned toward the door but stopped in the doorway and looked back over my shoulder. “I don’t like you. I know you don’t like me. But we both know that you need my money. I pay in cash, and you pocket it without paying taxes. I don’t care what you do with the money after I give it to you. But if you ever let my mother back into my apartment again, I’m going to do something you won’t like.”

Maureen crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t have to let you live here.”

“And I can turn you into the city of Dallas for these living conditions, your tax evasion, and that pot business you have going on up in the top floors. But I won’t.” I turned and left, knowing she wouldn’t kick me out.

Hell, I could probably live there for free if I wanted, but I paid my way.

No matter what.