Of course Kyle was a nurse. The universe liked fucking with him too much for the man he’d taken home to be anything else.

Shame on him for never asking, he supposed, but he made it a rule never to talk about work when he was in the process of getting someone back to his bed. The people who found his medical degree a turn-on weren’t people he wanted to fuck, and everybody else probably wouldn’t care one way or the other. It wasn’t like Wes was trying to impress anyone’s parents. He’d gone all in for that once and never planned to do it again.

As far as Kyle was concerned, Wes had learned there was a new nurse when he checked in. Hidden Creek Memorial was a small hospital with an even smaller staff, and one of the nurses had retired almost a month ago, leaving a scheduling gap—and more importantly, a patient care gap—that needed to be filled. He’d barked to Sloane about it, and apparently the man finally found someone.

That someone just happened to be the sexy, heartbroken young newcomer he’d almost fucked the previous night.

Walking the halls, he’d heard Kyle’s voice as he spoke to Ms. Carson. It stilled Wes in his tracks, but he recovered moments later. No one needed to see that he was affected by a member of staff. The people that worked at Hidden Creek were like vultures when it came to him, ready and willing to swoop down and pick apart what was left if he ever gave them the chance.

So he kept composed, and carefully avoided considering the travesty that was Kyle’s ass covered in loose-fitting scrub pants.

“Afraid I’m all out of bourbon,” the man said, grinning like a fool, “but I can fetch you a soda. The caffeine might help.”

“Are you suggesting caffeine to my patient before she’s had a workup done?”

Kyle turned immediately, his eyes widening slightly. He was obviously shocked, but that only seemed to last a moment before he shook himself out of it and returned his attention to his patient.

“I’m sorry for the wait, Ms. Carson.” Wes’ whole demeanor changed, the way it always did when he spoke to patients. No matter their condition, no matter how insignificant the case might seem to the staff, these people were terrified and looking for someone to make their case the most important thing on their docket. “I’ve told the nurses to page me if a consult is needed before morning rounds, but apparently they’ve had other priorities.”

Brenda looked at the rows of empty beds on either side of her, her brow creasing in irritation. “Yeah, I can see that.”

He felt Kyle staring at him, and knew it was with incredulity. But he ignored the man and moved beside his patient’s bed. “You’re here because of a persistent migraine, right? How long have you had it?”

He asked her a series of questions, not bothering to review the history Kyle or any of the other nurses had taken—if they’d taken one at all. There was an art to getting an accurate and helpful patient history, and Wes knew exactly the questions to ask to get the answers he needed. Questions about family history, the location of the migraines, her general pain level, auras and known triggers, if there was any nausea or other symptoms present, and more.

Kyle, however, didn’t seem content with Wes’ questioning. “How’s your diet been lately?”

He shot the man a look, prepared to step in, but the patient was already answering.

“I don’t know, the usual,” Brenda said. “Are you going to harp on me for eating out, too?”

“No, he’s not, because his idle curiosity has nothing to do with why you’re suffering,” Wes responded, preparing to move on.

“Diet actually plays a big part in our health, and certain foods might be a trigger for you. I’m not trying to put you on the spot, Ms. Carson, I just want to—”

“I’d like to get a CT scan,” Wes cut in, “and some bloodwork done. We can treat your pain today, but I’d also like to find out what’s causing these migraines and nip it in the bud.”

Once Brenda consented he stepped outside, marking down the orders for the CT and the other tests he’d suggested. Kyle immediately followed him out, and when Wes looked over at him, the man’s face was pinched in irritation. It made those soft lips of his stick out enticingly, but other than that, the expression did him a disservice.

“Can I speak with you? Doctor?” the last was said without the tone that usually accompanied the word, but there certainly wasn’t any respect there.

“If you make it quick. I still have three follow-ups to do before I can actually start my day.” Wes clicked his pen and slid it back into the pocket of his coat. So many doctors had stopped wearing them completely, opting for shirts and ties instead, but he wasn’t interested in looking like he had a big meeting with the pharma reps to sit in on. He’d gone through hell to get that MD after his name and he was going to own it.

Kyle led him to one of the empty exam rooms, closing the door once Wes was inside. He arched a brow at the younger man, his thoughts running away with him despite the obvious conflict. For the most part, Wes kept his personal life separate from his professional life, but Kyle’s pouty, self-righteous glare was doing strange things to him. His dick took notice of the privacy they were afforded here, despite the very thin walls, and he couldn’t help but imagine how this might play out if Kyle had stayed just a bit longer last night.

They’d get into what was obviously about to be some heated disagreement. Tempers would flare, stoking a passion that was buried just below the surface. Too worked up to speak, Kyle would grip the hair at the nape of Wes’ neck hard enough to sting, then he’d pull the man down for a hungry kiss. Cabinets would rattle as he pushed Kyle up against them, medical supplies clattering to the floor. His coat would be the first casualty. Then Kyle’s scrub top…

“Was there a point to ordering so many unnecessary tests,” Kyle began, very rudely pulling Wes out of his fantasy, “or are you just eager to bury her under a heap of medical bills her insurance won’t pay?”

If the first statement hadn’t sobered him, that certainly would have. Had a nurse ever talked to him like that before? Even when he was a wide-eyed medical student, he hadn’t been taken to task in such a fashion. Kyle’s attitude and insubordination were something that needed to be dealt with, but again all his horny mind could manage was the thought of taking the man over his knee and turning that tight, pert ass of his a lovely shade of red.

God, what was wrong with him? There was every chance Kyle had played him from the start. He probably knew exactly who Wes was, and he’d purposefully denied him last night. Now he was going all out to question Wes’ judgment at every turn in hopes of humiliating him in front of the other nurses at some point. It seemed all too plausible, and Wes’ temper flared.

“The point, Mr. Harris, is that Brenda Carson has a family history of cancer—”

“Which is why we should keep an eye on her, not saddle her with tests she doesn’t need right now,” Kyle interrupted.

“—And she was displaying other symptoms, some less subtle than others. The irritability, for one. Her balance was off, as well. You would’ve noticed, had you not been gaping at me.”

“The irritability was because she had to wait so long while she was in pain, and the loss of balance could’ve been from a million other things,” Kyle countered, not rising to the bait Wes had set out for him. “There’s no reason to give her a full work-up until we see her lab results.”

Well, Kyle certainly knew his diagnostics. It was a curious thing, and one that didn’t help Wes’ strange mix of suspicious and lustful feelings.

“She could die of an aneurysm before then,” he fired back, “but it’s good to know your priorities lay with efficiency rather than saving lives.”

The look Kyle shot him could have frozen over hell itself, though it had the decidedly opposite effect of setting Wes’ whole body afire. His coat suddenly felt stifling, and this room was far too small.

“I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”

Some invisible force pulled him toward the indignant man, even as his conscious mind was aware it was a bad idea. Kyle held his gaze and Wes stopped mere inches away from him, looking down at his new co-worker. For the briefest second, Wes saw a furious heat light through Kyle’s eyes that had nothing to do with his anger over Wes’ patient care.

So he isn’t completely unaffected. Maybe last night was just a fluke after all…

“What am I doing?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. The slight, almost imperceptible shiver that raced through Kyle was far more gratifying than he’d expected.

“Trying to scare me; put me in my place on day one.” Oh, Wes was eager to put Kyle in his place, but not in the way he meant. “It’s not going to work. I’m not going to let you intimidate me just because you’ve had your hand on my cock.”

“I’m just doing what’s in the best interest of my patient, Mr. Harris. It really doesn’t have anything to do with you, but I’m flattered you think that.”

“Then why are you inches away from a sexual harassment claim?” Kyle hissed, demonstrating those inches very clearly, his mouth so close Wes could feel the heat of his breath.

But the man’s words did wonders to snuff out the sudden, raging fire of want. Wes stepped back, smoothing down his white coat with one hand. He saw Kyle let out a held breath, and the tension in the room dissipated. The sexual tension, at least. The professional tension still remained, thick enough to slice through with a knife.

“If it concerns you, I can speak to the director,” Wes said. “Tell him you and I had an… encounter, before you started working here, but that it’s not going to be an issue. It’s best to get ahead of these things before it’s all over the hospital.”

Kyle looked him over as though he were reconsidering, and that desire hummed to life again just beneath Wes’ skin. What was it about this man in particular? He’d always maintained hard boundaries at work, and there was absolutely no universe in which he’d ever fuck someone in the hospital. But he wanted Kyle, and if the man had been willing to turn their disagreement into something more productive…

“Fine,” Kyle said, then he belatedly added, “thanks. Thank you.” He sighed, seeming to lose confidence with every breath. Long fingers swept through his sandy brown hair. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to start this off with us arguing over what’s best for a patient.”

“It’s good that you care,” Wes admitted.

“Do you really think the other nurses don’t?”

“Well, none of them saw fit to page me, thus making Ms. Carson spend hours of time in unnecessary pain. Sounds like they put their personal comfort above hers,” he said with a pleasant smile that didn’t match what he felt about the subject.

Kyle actually seemed to consider that, but Wes’ patience for this whole situation was long gone, and he was a little afraid of what might happen if he stayed locked in a room with that man. Reaching for the doorknob, he gave one last command, “Radiology takes their lunch early. Make sure you get that order in soon, or she’ll be waiting even longer.”

The look of annoyance Kyle shot him set the world on its axis again, and Wes slipped out to tend to his duties.

Morning rounds took a bit longer than he’d expected, and he didn’t make it to Director Sloane’s office until half past nine. Located on the third floor, in what hospital staff not-so-fondly referred to as Admin Alley, Sloane’s office was the most excessive by far. The money used to put in a window that showed off a quaint view of the town could have been used to buy more supplies, and the cost of refurnishing the office last year could have easily supported the new computers everyone had been asking for since the dawn of time.

But Wes wasn’t here to tell Sloane how he should run his hospital. The man was a private investor, and as such, he had final say. Considering Wes had been on thin ice for a few disagreements in the past, he wasn’t inclined to start something he couldn’t finish.

“Sir?” he knocked on the open door, just for the sake of decorum. Even though Sloane was sitting at his desk and obviously not in a meeting.

“Come on in, Monroe.” That old Texan accent blended his words together in a way Wes simultaneously admired for its uniqueness and also found a little difficult to understand—though he’d never admit it. “What can I do ya? You get the nurses’ feathers all ruffled again?”

The casual misogyny was a lot less endearing. Especially when it wasn’t overt enough that Wes could call him out on it. It was subtle, and it got under his skin. So much so that he had to wonder if people saw him the same way.

“Yes and no,” he admitted, taking a seat unprompted. “I have to clear the air a bit. The newest hire, Kyle Harris. I met him at the bar last night, before I knew he’d be working here.”

“So you fucked one of the nurses? That what you’re telling me, son?”

No, there definitely wasn’t anything endearing about the man’s attitude. “I’m letting you know we had a personal relationship—however brief—before he started here. People talk in this town, and I’m sure someone saw me with him. I just wanted to get it out in the open before it became a bigger deal than it actually is.”

“Look, as long as you aren’t knocking boots in the middle of your shift, I don’t care what you do or who you do it with.” He sounded mildly annoyed, and added, “but I appreciate you lettin’ me know.”

Tom Sloane had never been the most progressive man on the planet. He just tolerated most people and said whatever he felt like saying at the time. But he didn’t usually have this short of a fuse, and Wes took a moment to get a better look at the man. This close, he could see there were bags under Sloane’s eyes and lines etched into his face that hadn’t been there yesterday. Papers were strewn about his desk, along with two coffee cups and an empty can of Red Bull.

“You doing okay, Tom?” Wes asked tentatively.

“Well since you’re asking, no, I’m sure as hell not. Look at all this shit.” He gestured to the papers on his desk. “All this god damn paperwork over a simple deal. Used to be, if you wanted to do business with a man you just look him in the eye, shake his hand, and that’d be the end of it.”

Wes wasn’t sure it had ever been like that, with the exception of a few weekday syndicated shows that aired in the early sixties. Shows Tom wasn’t old enough to have watched outside of reruns. But it was obvious the man had entered the realm of hyperbole. The more he swore, the deeper he went down the rabbit hole.

“What deal? You and June finally find somebody to buy the house?”

Tom barked a dry laugh. “I wish. Least that’d be over and done with once all this shit was signed.” He sighed, scratching his fingers through his graying beard. “No, this is… Ah, hell.” He looked up at Wes, an oddly guilty expression tucked within his brown eyes. “Look: The county’s offered to buy the hospital’s assets. You know, equipment and whatnot.”

For a second, Wes felt like the man was just messing with him. A cruel joke in poor taste, but a joke nonetheless. Sloane didn’t look amused in the slightest, though. He still looked guilty, and he couldn’t quite meet Wes’ gaze.

“What exactly does that mean?” Wes asked, hoping he was just overreacting.

Maybe Tom needed to cut back on non-essentials, though he couldn’t think what that would possibly be. There were already lines for most of the testing equipment and a huge backup in the labs.

“It means I have to close down the hospital.” A cold, clammy feeling washed over Wes. “Now don’t look at me like that. I’ve been limping along for years. Decades. You know that. I’m out of options here, Wes. Either I sell what I can, or June and I lose everything.” The older man looked around his desk as if trying to pinpoint a hidden bottle of bourbon. All he found was a water bottle. “I’m not just thinking of myself, here. I’ve put in a good word with the county hospitals. I’m working on finding places for everybody.”

“I don’t understand. What about the fundraisers a few years back? The re-financing? The money supposedly coming in from the bank?” he asked, his agitation growing.

“Do you know how much it costs to keep this place operational, Wes? I’m tapped out. Have been for a while. I just… didn’t want to see it.”

“You just hired a new nurse!” he shot back.

“That was before I had a nice, long sit-down with my accountant. Back when I still thought I could hire a couple more people, fix the efficiency problems, and the rest would sort itself out.”

Wes’ lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw clenching. Even if that was the truth, it wasn’t justification to pull the rug out from under everyone. There was far more at stake than Sloane’s finances.

“What about our patients? Where are they supposed to go?”

“The county hospital’s more than equipped—” Sloane began.

“The county hospital’s run like a fucking assembly line. They just shove patients through the motions and discharge them as quickly as they can. You can’t do this to them, Tom. You can’t do this to Hidden Creek.”

There was a reason he’d come back to Hidden Creek after his residency was over. City hospitals were never at a loss for staff and they never would be. But rural hospitals got the short end of the stick in so many ways, and Wes at least wanted to make sure the people of his hometown received adequate care. Now he wouldn’t even be able to do that anymore.

“Here’s the long and short of it,” Sloane said, leaning his elbows on his desk. “Hidden Creek Memorial’s dug itself too big of a hole. I can’t sustain this place, and I’m out of chances with all my lenders. I have to close, Wes. I need a fighting chance at getting my head above water, here.”

“And the people who come through these doors want a fighting chance at life, not a thirty to forty-minute ambulance ride just to be seen,” he grated out.

Sloane’s face turned hard, his brown eyes looking a lot less friendly than they normally did. Drawing his elbows off of the table, he organized the chaotic mess of papers into a stack, barely looking at Wes as he said, “It’s out of your hands, Dr. Monroe. It’s about time you learned there’s some things you can’t control, no matter how much you want to.”