A headache that’s about to split my head in two wakes me from a deep sleep. My inner doctor tells me I drank too much alcohol and should’ve had more water. I roll over, expecting to feel a body next to me as the memories from last night flood in. Peeling my eyes open, I place my hand on her empty side, which is cold but oddly still smells like her.

Looking around, I don’t see her clothes on the floor, and that’s all the confirmation I need to know she’s gone, which is for the best considering I don’t have time for anything serious. Stella was nothing more than a memory, a good one at that, but that’s all she can be now. To think, if she would’ve still been here, I might’ve gone against everything I believe and asked her out again. There was something about her I liked, and I stretch and smile at the thought. Thankfully, she did leave, and now we can go on about our lives. I almost understand why Jackson does this often—almost.

I reach for my phone and realize it’s close to nine in the morning. I can’t remember the last time I slept in like this, but apparently, I needed the rest—especially after last night. Pushing off the blanket, I look around the room for my shoes, pants, and shirt and am slightly confused when I don’t see any of my fucking clothes anywhere. They should be on the floor somewhere by the bed because I remember the exact moment when I took them off. Knowing this must be some sort of cruel joke, I stand, butt-ass naked and search around the room. After opening the drawers and looking in the bathroom and closet, I realize they’re gone, just like Stella.

“Fuck!” I yell out in frustration, hoping no one heard me because the walls are thin. Remembering I left my overnight bag at home and didn’t have time to go back and grab it, I have no other choice but to call for help.

In an angry rage, I pick up my cell phone that’s conveniently next to my wallet on the nightstand and check my latest texts to see if there are any clues as to who this woman was. Nothing. Not one hint.

Stella and I kept things simple, leaving out all personal details, and not even twelve hours later, that decision has already come back and bit me in the ass. Not really knowing what else to do, I call Jackson in hopes he’ll be awake and can bring me some clothes. I’ve bailed him out of shit plenty of times before, and at this point, he owes me. Of course, he doesn’t answer, and I have to listen to his stupid voicemail where he does nothing but laugh before the beep.

“Jackson. What the fuck? You’re supposed to answer when someone calls you. It’s kind of important. Call me back.” I end the call, then make my way down the list.

John’s phone rings and rings, and he doesn’t answer either. I listen to his overly professional voicemail, then leave him a message too. “Call me back.” I hang up and sit on the edge of the bed, wondering if I can take the sheet from the bed, wrap it around my body, and make it to my truck without anyone noticing. Fat chance considering the B&B is full of family members and friends. My choices are limited, and I’m halfway tempted to call Alex, but it’s such a dick move considering he’s probably sleeping in after his big night.

Not knowing who else to call, I find Dylan’s number. Just like the rest of them, he doesn’t answer. Thank God this isn’t some big emergency, or I don’t need to be bailed out of jail or something.

The only other choice I have is to call Mama or Courtney, and I don’t want either of them in my damn business. I’d hear question after question about what I did last night and why I need clothes brought to my room. As I glance around, hoping I missed them tucked in a corner, the realization of what my missing tux actually means hits me. Stella stole it, and if it’s not returned, I’ll be required to pay to replace it, which isn’t cheap. The thought infuriates me. What the fuck was she actually thinking? More importantly—why?

“This is bullshit,” I say under my breath and try to muster the courage to call Courtney.

I find her name in my favorites, and just as I’m about to press send, an incoming call from John flashes on the screen. At least I can count on someone to return my call.

“Hey, what’s up?” John asks.

“I need a huge favor,” I say.

He laughs. “Go on.”

“Can you bring me some clothes and shoes? Please?” I sit on the edge of the bed naked and wait for his response.

“Why?” He lets out a small chuckle.

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. “Can you just do what I ask?”

“Only if you tell me why.”

I huff. “You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?”

“Considering I’m going to have to stop what I’m doing on my day off to bring you clothes at the B&B, I think it’s the other way around. Waiting…”

Groaning, I explain how my clothes are gone, and I can’t leave the room. He bursts into big hearty laughter, and the sound of it actually pisses me off.

“You do know that tux has to be returned Monday by ten, right?”

“Well aware,” I mutter, trying to hold back my frustration.

“Alright. Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll be there.”

Though I want to question why it’s going to take twenty damn minutes, I don’t. Instead, I thank him before hanging up. Knowing I have a little time before he arrives, I take the opportunity to hop in the shower and wash Stella and the memory of her from my body. After I’m done, I dry off and wrap a towel around my waist. Just as I walk into the room, a knock is heard at the door.

I open it and see Jackson standing in front of me. Just by the shit-eating grin on his face paired with his pants tucked into his boots, I know immediately it’s not John. The old switch and bait won’t work on me. “Where’s John? And you look like shit.”

He rolls his eyes and hands me a plastic grocery bag with clothes inside along with a pair of old cowboy boots. “Rough night. But apparently not as rough as yours,” he mutters, seeming amused.

I set the boots on the floor, then take the clothes from the bag and am shocked when I see a plaid, long-sleeve flannel shirt, a pair of white underwear, and blue jeans with rips in the knees.

“Are you kidding me?” I turn around and glare at him.

With his arms crossed over his chest, Jackson simply gives me a sly smile, and I know he’s enjoying this way too much. “John said you needed clothes. Did you specify what you wanted?”

“Was a pair of boxer shorts, pants, and a T-shirt too hard to grab? Maybe some running shoes? Or something normal?” I ask, looking at the cliché cowboy suit lying on the bed. This outfit was picked out so he could get a good laugh today. I know him too well to think otherwise.

“Are these Dad’s underwear? What the fuck is this?” I hold them up and look at him.

He tries to hold back laughter to the point where it looks painful. “Beggars can’t be choosers; I think that’s how the saying goes.”

“You’re a dick,” I say, just as he bends over letting out a booming laugh. I push him out of the room and lock the door. Asshole. I’m seriously going to have a chat with John the next time I see him.

The towel falls to the floor, and I put on the clothes he brought me. My anger level rises as the pants hug my nuts like spandex. They’re so fucking tight I can barely walk. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I see how absolutely ridiculous I look. I’m a walking Texas cowboy cliché with the flannel shirt, tight jeans that are cutting off the circulation of my dick, and the shit-kicking boots. All I need is a big ten-gallon cowboy hat and a fucking gold belt buckle the size of a plate.

Rolling my eyes, I find the keys to my truck on the other nightstand. At least she had the decency not to steal those too. After I open the door, I look up and down the hall to see if anyone is around. Considering the hallway is empty, I take that as my cue to hurry and try to make it out without running into a single person. Unfortunately, I’m not so lucky, because as soon as my foot hits the bottom step, I run into Jackson, Courtney, Mama, and John. Behind them, I see Drew and their kids, along with River’s best friend, Natalie, and Natalie’s husband. I totally forgot they were meeting for brunch this morning and can’t get out of their presence fast enough.

“Evan, honey. What are you wearing?” Mama asks, confused by how I look. They all know I haven’t worn clothes like this since I started dressing myself in third grade. Courtney bursts into laughter, which Jackson encourages.

“Holy shit,” John says under his breath as he shakes his head, realizing Jackson set my ass up. He glares at Jackson, who does nothing but shrug.

“I’ve got to get the hell out of here,” I say under my breath as all eyes bore into me.

“I don’t even want to know.” Courtney looks me up and down.

“You’re not going to stay for brunch? Courtney, Drew, and the kids are heading back home soon.” Mama asks as I head toward the door.

I lift my hand to stop the conversation and keep walking. I’m sure I’ll have to apologize for my rudeness later, but right now, all I can think about is getting these pants out of my ass.

No matter how fast I walk, I can’t get away from their laughter quick enough. I climb in the truck and roll up the flannel sleeves because it’s hot as fuck outside and I’m already sweating. This is what I get for trying to be like my dumbass brothers and let loose. Honestly, I feel like I deserve this in some fucked-up way.

The drive home seems to take longer than usual, though there’s no traffic and I drive over the speed limit, which is already seventy. Hugging curves, I haul ass, hoping to get out of these damn clothes as soon as possible. Jackson has it coming. The next time he calls me to cover for him because he’s too trashed to hang out with family, I’ll refuse. He made his bed, and I’ll make sure he sleeps in it.

I let out a sigh of relief when my house comes into view. Considering I’m practically married to my job, I chose to buy a house that’s closer to the hospital than the ranch. Mama wasn’t happy, but this is the choice I made for myself, regardless if they supported it at first or not. Becoming a doctor was a dream, and all I ever wanted to do was help people. Not everyone is born with that characteristic, plus I’m good at what I do. By the time I park and get out of the car, it’s nearly eighty degrees outside. Shaking my head, I walk inside, unbutton the shirt, and throw it to the ground, then force the boots off so I can peel the pants from my body.

I change into workout clothes, grab my keys, and head to the gym. There’s too much built-up frustration, and I need to get rid of it so I can go to work with a clear head tomorrow. That goddamn tuxedo irritates the fuck out of me. After I’m at the gym, I warm up on the treadmill, then lift until my muscles can’t handle any more. Just as I’m walking out, Alexis walks in, and I pull out my earbuds and smile. She’s wearing shorts that barely cover her ass and a tank top.

“Hey, you, been a while,” she says, lingering on my biceps a little too long before her eyes meet mine. Alexis is a doctor at the hospital who works on the cardiology floor. A year ago, she asked me out, and I refused for other reasons, but ever since, it’s been awkward between us. Not to mention, I have a strict no-dating-doctors-or-nurses rule, or hell, anyone with a hospital badge. Mixing sexual relationships and work is like mixing oil and water; the two never go together and never will.

“Yeah, it has. How’ve things been going?” I ask.

She swallows hard. “Pretty good actually. Shorthanded as always, but that’s life. I think I need a vacation.”

“Yeah.” I smile. “Vacation? What’s that?”

People are trying to enter the gym, and I take that as my cue to go. “It was good seeing you, Alexis.”

“You too. Take care of yourself, okay?”

I give her a head nod and walk out to the truck. My legs feel like gelatin as I open the door, climb in, and buckle. Sweat rolls down my cheek, and I wipe my face on my sleeve as I stare out at the clouds. A thought comes to me, and I’m pissed all over again when I think about last night. Aren’t one-night stands supposed to be freeing? Aren’t I supposed to wake up the next day completely okay with how things ended? It’s exactly what I’d asked for, knowing one night was all I had to offer, but the repercussions aren’t worth it. Honestly, I don’t know how my brothers do it. It’s not me and never will be. This empty feeling inside brings up more anguish than pleasure. Stella’s venom is still streaming through my blood, poisoning my thoughts, and there’s no anti-venom in sight. She was fucking deadly.

The morning comes early, and considering I’ve had the past few days off, I decide to go in extra early. No one’s going to complain, and I already know I’ll be here longer than usual today to try to catch up and get my head back in the game. Not being in the know is the only thing I hate about taking days off. I never know what sort of situation I’m going to walk into when I return.

Of course, as soon as I arrive, I’m filled in about each of the patients who are currently in rooms and look at their charts. One of the ER nurses, Brooklyn, falls into step with me, giving me the rundown as I sip my coffee. Four in the morning comes early but growing up on the ranch prepared me for the early hours and long days. One thing I’ll always be thankful for.

“A few patients are waiting for rooms. There’s an eight-year-old female who has a severe case of pneumonia and pleurisy. We have the room in respiratory isolation at the moment. Recently got the fever down, so if you sign off, we can move her to the pediatric intensive care unit but continue isolation.”

“Which room?” I ask, setting my coffee down by the computer, not even wanting to sign on and finish reading the emails I didn’t make it through last night.

“Seven. She’s been here since midnight,” she says.

Not waiting, I grab a face mask and read over the chart before walking into the room with Brooklyn behind me. Being as quiet as possible when we enter, I look at the current stats while trying to allow the little girl to continue to sleep soundly. Her mother shifts and blinks a few times before giving me a small smile. I give her a head nod and smile in return and continue to make notes, but I don’t like the way she’s wheezing.

Brooklyn follows me out of the room. “In a few hours, I’m okay with moving her to the PICU, but I want to start breathing treatments and chest physical therapy as soon as possible. She needs to stay on close watch. I don’t want this progressing to bronchitis, especially with the pleurisy.”

“Understood,” she says.

Over the next couple of hours, I continue making rounds and checking on patients. Since a few other doctors are covering the emergency room, I go to the PICU to brief the doctor on duty about the eight-year-old girl we’re sending up.

Just as I finish my conversation with the peds doctor, I see River stepping off the elevator with a shit-eating grin on her face. Fuck, she must know something. Of course, she does. My brothers have the biggest mouths in the south. My timing couldn’t have been more horrible. I look down at the folders in my hand, hoping she didn’t see me.

“So…how was your weekend?” She keeps a hint of sweetness in her tone, but I know better. River is the perfect match for my brother Alex—independent, but has just enough sass to scare any Bishop into place. I honestly don’t want to talk about this weekend and was hoping to forget it.

“How do you think it was?” I try my best not to roll my eyes at her because she knows exactly how it was. Great then terrible, especially considering I’m going to have to pay five hundred dollars for that damn tux. Just when I get ready to walk away from her, Amelia, another nurse on the children’s floor, walks up. That’s when I really become a laughing joke for the two of them. At least someone’s laughing, and it’s not me, because nothing’s funny about what happened.

I take a deep breath and try to release it slowly. River is family now, and I can’t be a dick or Mama will have my head. Her rules, not mine. River continues to tell every detail, not letting one thing slide, especially not the clothes thing.

“Damn,” Amelia says, her eyes wide. “Who does that?” She chuckles.

“Stella!” River laughs. “He would've been better off wrapping a sheet around his waist and making a run for it because they’re never going to let him live it down,” she tells Amelia. She got one thing right, that’s for damn sure. I shouldn’t have depended on my brothers to help me in my time of need. I try to tune her out and find my perfect opportunity to leave.

“Don’t you think I’ve gotten enough shit from my brothers about this weekend? Just had to bring it to work too. Go ahead, laugh it up. I’m glad I could amuse you both.” I groan, getting ready to walk away, but when the elevator doors slide open and I see her, my breath hitches.

“Who’s that?” Amelia asks, looking back and forth between us.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the new ER doctor they told us about last month. Dr. Emily Bell. She just finished her residency and has to work under Evan.”

My body goes completely rigid, and Amelia and River glare at me, then turn and look at the woman who’s walking off the elevator with a smile on her face. Her brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and she’s wearing a black pencil skirt that’s so tight it might actually rip when she bends over. Fucking hell. It doesn’t help how her cream top is tucked into her skirt, accentuating her small waist that I had my arms tightly wrapped around when I fucked her senseless.

Of course, this would be my fate. My luck is comical, and it causes me to stifle a sarcastic laugh.

“Lighten up before you scare the poor girl away,” River says and elbows me, but obviously she has no fucking clue who the hell this woman is. I overhear her asking for Dr. Bishop, and I shake my head.

“What’s wrong with you?”

I glare at River with a tight jaw. “That’s her. That’s the woman who stole my goddamn clothes,” I mutter, feeling my annoyance building. I run my hand over my jaw, trying to figure out why she lied about her name or why she stole my fucking clothes. A million questions run through my mind as River continues to question me. I’m pissed.

I cross my arms over my broad chest as she walks toward me with a smile on her face. Recognition flashes in her eyes, and the confidence she had when she stepped off that elevator slightly falters. This whole situation is bullshit. One-night stands with strangers are supposed to stay in the past. As she walks toward me, it becomes my present.

Just as she goes to open her mouth, I interrupt her, and I know she can feel my anger bleeding through. Hell, at this point, the whole hospital probably can.

“Emily? That’s real cute.” The sarcasm in my voice isn’t lost on her. I don’t regret many things in life, but hooking up with Stella or Emily, or whatever the fuck her name is, is at the top of my list. I should’ve known better than to have a random hookup, and now I’ll pay for it every fucking day I come to work. The truth is, she’s going to pay for what she did too. And the look on her face says she knows as much.