Blake:

“Explain.”

It’s ten minutes after the Incident of the Glitter-Vagina. After screaming at Rhonda for five minutes about the sex-doctors that took her money and skipped town, Lettie Herman has flounced off in a huff.

I glare at Rhonda Sawyer. I have a very good idea of what the two doctors were up to in the aptly-named Clinic of Love, but I want her to confirm my suspicions.

At my side, Declan’s sitting on a chair, his face expressionless. From the set of his shoulders, I know that he’s furious, and I don’t blame him. This stupid situation is the last thing Declan needs. He’s waiting to hear back from the UN. If they even catch a whiff of this story, they’re going to back away, even though Declan has nothing to do with this sordid mess.

Declan’s brother Grant screwed up his career once. Now, it appears that I’ve inadvertently done the same thing.

Rhonda gives me a sullen look. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

My patience snaps. “Fine,” I tell her. “Have it your way. I’ll call the ACP with my concerns, and they’ll take it from there. They can investigate Dr. Rhodes and Dr. Sawyer.”

She folds. “Okay, okay, I’ll talk,” she says hastily. She chews on her nail nervously as she gathers her thoughts. “Where do you want me to start?”

Declan speaks up. “How about we start with the sex doctors?” he asks dryly.

She flushes. “They don’t have sex with their patients,” she murmurs. “They just get them off.”

“Of course,” I reply sarcastically. “That’s totally different. Hell, I almost think that makes them Florence fucking Nightingale.”

Declan’s lips twitch. “Florence Nightingale was a nurse, not a doctor.” He turns his attention back to the assistant. “Okay. So the clinic provides ‘special services’ to women.”

“Not every woman,” Rhonda says, as if that makes a difference. “Dr. Rhodes and Dr. Swanson only worked with single women. It was less complicated that way.”

These guys. These fucking guys. “Does the clinic have any legitimate patients?” I bite out.

“A few,” Rhonda admits. She takes a deep breath. “We came to Goat because even though this is a small town, everyone minds their own business. The doctors swore to me that they’d go clean. No more smutty stuff. Just real medicine.”

Something in her expression gives me a clue. “You’re dating one of them?”

“Ted.”

Wow, it sucks to be Rhonda. She sits in the office and watches as her boyfriend gets strange women off? “What happened?”

“They got bored,” she sighs. “They started offering the special services, as you call it. Ted tried to resist, but George was too persuasive for him.”

I snort inwardly at that. From where I’m sitting, neither doctor looks like a hero. “Why did they skip town?” Declan asks.

She flushes. “Everything was okay until Lettie Herman booked an appointment. She lied to us and said she was separated, but she wasn’t.” She bites her lower lip. “I begged the doctors to refund her money.”

“You didn’t want an angry husband marching in here with a shotgun?”

“Something like that. I asked around town. Everyone agreed that Michael Herman would go ballistic when he found out. The doctors needed to get out of Goat in a hurry.”

I frown at her. “Why involve us? Why not just shut down the clinic for a few weeks?”

“We thought that if Michael Herman were to talk to you, it’d be obvious that you were on the up-and-up. So I canceled all the special client appointments for the next month, and we thought we’d be able to weather out the storm.”

My blood boils. These stupid idiots have dragged Declan and me into this mess to cover their own asses. Rhonda reads my expression correctly. “We weren’t thinking straight,” she tries to explain. “Look, don’t worry about it. It’s not your problem. You can walk away from this mess.”

“No, we can’t.” Declan’s voice is flat. “We’ve already seen two patients tonight. Lettie Herman knows we’re the substitute doctors.” He sighs heavily. “We’re involved, whether we like it or not.”

He’s absolutely right.

For a moment, I’m tempted to walk away anyway. I don’t stick around when things get complicated—that’s why I’m a locum. I get to leave when shit gets real.

You wanted to stick around this time.

Stay or leave?

It’d be so much easier to leave. There are other jobs. I could be basking in the warmth of Miami Beach in the winter, not knee-deep in snow in a remote Oregon small town. I did a stint as a doctor for an NFL team once, a long time ago. I have fond memories of treating the sprained ankles of busty cheerleaders. I could do that again.

But I’m not going to.

This isn’t just any small town. This is Goat. This is my home, and I’m not going to walk away from it.

Besides, if I’m being perfectly honest, I’ve never met a blond cheerleader or a Hollywood starlet who’s stuck in my thoughts like Lana Davey. Ever since Sunday, the dark-haired author has been in my thoughts, and I’ve been looking forward to spending Friday with her all week. I want to get to know her better. I want to discover what makes her tick.

I take a deep breath. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Goat deserves a real clinic with doctors that give a shit about their patients, not just pussy, and I’m going to give it to them.” I fix Rhonda with a stern look. “The party’s over. No more special sessions, no more hanky-panky. We’re going to work five days a week, not three. We’re going to have daytime hours, as well as evenings. We’re going to clean up this mess.”

“It’s not your clinic,” she retorts. “You’re just a replacement. You’ll be gone in a month.”

I give her a grim smile. “You’re wrong,” I tell her. “I’m not going anywhere. And Rhonda? You can either cooperate with us, or you can leave.”