Page 22

“Have a good night, Doctor Walker,” one of my nurses at the community hospital calls after me with a smile as I strip off my surgical cap and toss it into the bin.?

I give her a tired wave, rubbing at my eyes.

So much for getting out of here by two. It’s now well past three in the morning, and the night shift has been relentless.

Emergency after emergency, one crisis bleeding into the next, and with us being the only hospital within fifty miles, there’s been no reprieve, and my back and knees are screaming at me in protest.

When I took this job, I knew exactly what I was signing up for, and I was excited about it. Still am. Being the guy everyone relies on in a small community hospital is the challenge that I wanted post-residency with the kind of wide open spaces to enjoy on my days off.

But nights like this, when I’m still green around the edges, it can feel overwhelming.

The only redeeming quality is that business has been booming—if you can call an influx of injuries and illnesses “booming”—and thanks to a hefty donation from none other than Mrs. Mayberry herself upon her passing, they’re hiring another ER doctor this summer and expanding the small hospital’s ICU unit soon.

At least that means there will be someone to split the load.

Someone to keep me from burning out before I even hit my stride.

“Have a good night, everyone,” I call as I make my way out.

Now that the chaos has finally died down, the ER feels eerily empty, like a ghost town after a storm.

I scrub a hand down my face, too drained to bother changing out of my scrubs before leaving, and grab my bag from my office.

The walk to the parking lot is short, and as soon as I slide into the driver’s seat of my truck, I rest my head against the steering wheel and catch my breath.

When I look down at my phone, I notice I missed a phone call from my little sister Scarlett made two hours ago. There’s a text from her too.

Scarlett: I’m sure you’re working. Call me whenever you get this. I don’t care if it’s super late.

I sigh, hitting redial immediately because I’ll never make her wait. She answers immediately.

“Hey, bro.”

“Hey, Scar. What are you doing awake?”

I can hear the grin in her voice. “Waiting up for you to call me back. Just kidding. I’m packing.”

“Oh? Where are you going?” I ask, starting the truck, letting it idle as I try to decide where the hell I’m even going.

The motel? My new house that I share with my new wife who is likely already asleep.

I don’t know what to do anymore. My brain is exhausted from making life-saving decisions all night and I’m considering sleeping in the hospital parking lot so that I don’t have to decide my next move.

“I’m visiting some friends in New York. And on the way…” she pauses. “Thought I could stop by and see you in your new city.”

That has me freezing. Because as of earlier today, I am officially a married man, and I haven’t had a chance to tell my younger siblings, Seth and Scarlett any of that.

“Uh… when exactly would that be?”

She laughs. “Don’t sound so thrilled.”

“I’m not—I mean, I am, it just caught me off guard and I’m not thinking straight. Still trying to get settled here. A lot’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.”

“Oh? Anything juicy?” She waits, and I hesitate. I’d rather do this in person, but at this point, I might as well rip the Band-Aid off and tell her what’s going on.

“Yeah… I bought a property.” I exhale. “A farm with stables and a barn. It’s beautiful. I’m finally getting the horses I always wanted and going to start a boarding business. Hopefully I can get back into riding, too.”

“Hayes, that’s amazing. I’m so happy for you. I can’t wait to see it in person.”

“Yeah, well… there was a catch to buying the land.”

“A catch?”

I clear my throat. “I had to marry the other person who made an offer on the place to get it… and then it was basically free.”

She’s silent for a beat.

“I’m sorry, did you just casually tell me that you got married today?”

Shit. Saying it out loud makes it sound even crazier. This is the first time I’ve told anyone about what happened. Working tonight distracted me from the decision I made but now that I’m sitting with it in the stillness of my truck, it’s finally sinking in that I have a wife.

I drag a hand over my scalp, trying to ground myself. I need a damn haircut, a stiff drink and about ten hours of deep sleep before I’m prepared to have this conversation.

“Yeah. I did.”

And then she bursts into laughter. Full, unfiltered, can’t-breathe kind of laughter.

“Hayes! You? Marriage?”

“It was a courthouse signing. Just paperwork. Her brother and sister-in-law were the only witnesses.”

“Oh my god. But you did it? You really did it?”

“It was for the property. I had no choice.”

“Wow… Well, I can’t wait to meet your new wife. Or is it your new husband?”

I sigh. “She’s a woman.”

She cackles again. “Well, I’ll be there in the morning.”

“The—wait. What? I’m not even moved in yet. I was thinking about staying at the motel tonight instead.”

“Oh, no you don’t. Go spend your wedding night with your wife.”

I groan, tilting my head back against the truck’s headrest and closing my heavy eyelids.

“Scarlett, please don’t make this a whole thing when you get here.

I want to see you, and you can stay as long as you want, but for the love of God, this is just a business transaction.

She said so herself. It’s not romantic for either of us.

We aren’t in love. She’s going to manage the wedding business that the previous owner started, and I’ll be working with the horses in my downtime. ”

“Got it. I believe you.” She pauses, then snickers. “But I’m still excited to see the place. And meet the woman who finally roped my perpetually single big brother.”

“Hmph.” I don’t even have the energy to argue with her anymore.

“See you in the morning! Sleep well!” She hangs up before I can say anything back.

Dammit .

I’m too exhausted for this shit. But she’s right about one thing—the motel bed has been killing my back and Regan said the bed in the master bedroom is newer.

Screw it. No way she’s still awake anyway.

I’ll sneak in, go straight to sleep, and deal with Scarlett’s arrival when she shows up in the morning.

A few minutes later, I’m pulling into the long driveway to my home, admiring the way the moonlight reflects off the pond near the main house. Damn, it feels good to say that.

Forty-one years, and I’ve never owned my own place.

Always renting. Always living out of a suitcase prepared to leave at any time.

It started in my bull-riding days on the circuit, then during residency, then temporarily with my ex before I moved to Whitewood Creek.

Living with her, even though it was for a short period of time, was a mistake. A disaster, really.

Living with Regan… I wonder how that’ll go.

When I reach the front steps, I realize I don’t have a key.

Regan’s the one who went to Betsy to give her our marriage license.

I should have asked, but it’s too late for that now.

Just as I’m considering if I have the energy to sleep in my truck, I try the screen door.

It’s unlocked. That’s unsafe. She shouldn’t be leaving the doors open at night.

I need to get a security system installed here.

The thought comes uninvited, and it’s… weird.

Worrying about someone else’s safety for once.

I push open the door and step inside, expecting to find the place dark and silent.

Instead, my gaze lands on Regan, sitting on the floor in the corner of the home’s living room.

Her shoulders are shaking slightly as she’s hunched over looking at something.

She wipes at her nose and then whips around quickly, clutching her chest.

“Shit, Hayes, I didn’t hear you come home.”

Fuck. Is she crying?

I hesitate, toeing off my boots by the door and dropping my bag before scanning the room.

She’s already rearranged the furniture, moved new pieces in, made the space hers in only a matter of hours.

The house feels… lived in. Warmer than before.

More like a home. I’ve never cared much about that kind of thing, but it’s nice.

A quiet kind of nice to come home to after working so long and not having the energy to think about stuff like this.

“Are you… are you okay?” I ask, awkward as hell. I don’t know how to handle this, but I do know I hate seeing her like this. Even if I don’t have a damn clue what’s wrong. All I want to do is make it better. Shit, I hope it isn’t something I did.

She smiles softly, nodding as she wipes at her nose again.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I didn’t realize how late it was.

” She holds up a red, cardboard box with the word ‘Mayberry’ written on the side in black marker.

“I found this while clearing out the living room. It’s full of old photos of Mrs. Mayberry and her husband over the years.

You can see how much they loved each other.

I think I’m going to incorporate some of these into the wedding business— to show couples who get married here what the original owners built together. Their vision. Their love.”

“That’s… that’s really sweet.”

Her lips curve into a small smile before she turns back to the box, rifling through the photos. “I changed the sheets and made sure the pillows were good in the master bedroom. You look like you need more sleep than I do.”

“That’s… that’s really nice of you.” Too nice, honestly that she was thinking about me while I was working, distracting myself. But the idea of sinking into a decent bed after the night I’ve had is damn tempting. “I don’t have to take it, though. I’m sure the guestroom is just fine.”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s all good.

I ordered a new mattress for the guest room and it’s getting delivered this week.

Until then, I’ll just sleep on the couch Colt moved in for me today.

” Her gaze flicks toward the couch behind her.

It’s decent, green with smooth, suede fabric, but it sure as hell doesn’t look like a bed.

I hesitate because I’m bone tired and really don’t want to be a dick when she’s clearly upset. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

She goes back to sorting through the photos, a small smile playing at her lips when she pulls another one out. I step closer to get a better view of it. It’s an old picture of Mrs. Mayberry holding a little girl with wild, auburn curls.

“Is that you?” I ask, stepping closer to see.

She nods. “Yeah. My mom died during Colt and my birth, so she was like a mother to me.”

“Damn. I’m sorry. That’s tough.”

She nods again, still not meeting my eyes, then slowly rises to her feet. She steps closer, so close that I catch the sweet scent of her. She smells like coconut and damn, she smells good.

Maybe it’s because I’m exhausted, running on fumes.

Or maybe it’s because I’m tired and horny , a lethal combination that seems to always rear its head after working a late shift.

Or maybe it’s just… nice, coming home to someone instead of an empty house and silence, but my body is completely tuned into her every movement now and craving her touch.

She holds the photo up between us.

“She was that for me, you know? A female presence. A gentle touch when I needed it. And she always knew what to say, even if it was blunt. But it was what I needed to hear.” Her voice tightens just slightly.

“I know she was in her eighties, but I guess I just thought she’d always be around.

Still kicking. Still working the state fair. Still picking on everyone in town.”

She gives a small, sad smile, and something about it guts me.

Before I can second-guess it, I pull her in, wrapping my arms around her waist in a hug.

She sighs into me, her soft curves melting against my hard edges, and fuck , I shouldn’t be holding her like this when I’m not thinking clearly but it feels so damn good.

It feels right.

I rest my cheek against the top of her head while we stand silently in the living room, wrapped in each other’s embrace.

She’s warm and smells good. When was the last time I held a warm body for a reason other than to bring them back to life or heal their aches and pains?

When was the last time I let someone hold me with no agenda?

When I finally pull back, there’s something in her eyes. Something new. Something I know is reflected in mine too. Desire.

My hand lifts on its own, brushing dark hair from her shoulder before sliding to cup her cheek gently.

I tilt her face up, and fuck , I want to kiss her lips so damn badly to take away the pain that’s lingering there and give into the urge that we’re both feeling.

Those light blue eyes that look like the spring sky look up at me, blinking, unsure, trying to read my scattered mind. And that’s a really, really bad idea.

“I shouldn’t kiss you.” My voice is rough as my gaze flicks between her lips and eyes.

Her mouth parts, her breath slow and unsteady. “Yeah. That sounds like a bad idea.”

I study her, memorizing every detail. The shape of her mouth. The way her chest rises and falls beneath that white tank top. Her nipples, hard and peaked, because her body can’t fight this any more than mine can, but I have to. I need to stop this.

“I won’t,” I whisper.

She nods. “Okay.” Her voice is quiet as she wets her lips with her tongue. “I think we’re just… emotional. It’s been a long day. And you’re probably exhausted.”

“Yeah.”

That’s it.

Silence stretches between us, thick and heavy, until I drop my head and press a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead.

Then I step back, releasing her chin, watching her like I’m trying to convince myself this is the right thing to do and what’s between us right now is nothing more than horny energy and confused exhaustion.

This is our wedding night. A wedding night that isn’t supposed to mean anything .

“Alright, good night, Regan.”

She watches me intently then smiles softly. “Good night, Hayes. Sleep well.”