Creamed: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 296) Read online

  Mrs. Peters is nice, I tell myself

  A pain in the ass by never taking a break of her own away from the coffee shop, but a nice enough lady.

  Anyway, I’m an idiot because, despite all my effort and training as a doctor to keep things professional and above the second brain in my pants, I can’t help but smile when I see her.

  I say ‘Idiot’ because smiling like a lunatic every time I see Mandy wasn’t my plan.

  I guess I’m trying to show her I really am the strong, silent type deep down.

  The type of man who wants more than just “Hiya, Mandy!”

  Christ, I sound like her god damned grocery man…

  I’m the type of man who wants to speak to her through actions, not just words.

  A language I know we would both be perfect at if only I knew for certain she was interested in me that way.

  It’s what she’s done to me in just a few days.

  I’ve passed on my surgical load for the next two weeks, only assisting up-and-coming surgical teams until I can get my head straight.

  Get the head of my dick straight into her tight little hole… Fuck. Can you hear yourself?

  It’s so not like me to obsess like this and definitely not like me to even think like this.

  Especially over a girl, I can see at a glance, could have any man she wanted in this world.

  I knew things had come to a head when I referred to a certain part of a patient’s anatomy as their ‘Mandy’ yesterday.

  Because the second I did see Mandy, I knew I was done.

  I knew there was only one thing I really wanted in this world and felt nothing but relief in a way.

  But we don’t live in a world where a man twice a girl’s age can just tell her at first sight that he has a future planned for her.

  He can’t come out and tell her that he has a baby to put in her belly and a life of nothing but leisure and pleasure for her and her children.

  That’s all that flashes through my mind when I see her. That, and how I plan to fill her with my seed to implant said baby, of course.

  She’s got the smoothest looking skin and the purest, clearest eyes to match. Her body was made to grab hold of. I can see that and childbearing hips with a tasty apple-shaped ass to match.

  Finding the right ‘fit’ doesn’t mean I need a woman six feet seven inches tall and made of chicken bones for a man of my size. No.

  I need a lot of woman to grab hold of, something soft to grip hard and smoosh right up against me. And looking at Mandy, it’s like eyeing the missing piece. She’s the missing part to the puzzle of ‘me’ I think I’ve overlooked my whole life until now.

  And because of that future image in my mind, my gut feeling tells me she’s the one, I can’t help but obsess over it.

  Obsess over her.

  Mandy.

  My Mandy.

  It’s to the point of dropping in to order coffee up to three times a day when she’s working. Of course, giving any other guy who gets coffee from her such a look, they assume the worst.

  Not a good look for a senior doctor in the hospital, but I couldn’t give a shit about that.

  I’d give it all up tomorrow if she asked me to.

  I’ve already got enough tucked away for ten lifetimes with her, and our kids.

  I try my best to tip her too. But Old Mrs. Peters isn’t having any of it, and as much as I follow hospital policy to the letter, I can’t help but make an exception when it comes to Mandy.

  See, I followed her home last night.

  As hard as it was for me, I kept my distance, but I saw where she lived.

  The apartment building, the neighborhood. The noise and the smell…Jesus, it turned my stomach. It cuts me to the quick to even think of her there for one more night.

  It’s not where she belongs.

  So, when I try to make things better for her the easiest way I can, by tipping her a little, and then I find I can’t, I’m simply more determined to make her mine.

  I want to take her home and show her how a goddess like her should be treated and spoiled. And not just now and then.

  I mean, every minute of every day. Forever.

  Leaving my change but taking my coffee, I make a slow exit.

  I am torn because I have to leave her again and feel double stupid because I’m giving her crazy eye contact instead of just asking for her number.

  Or better yet, simply telling her, I need to see her in private.

  Something I intend to do once she gets off for the day.

  After that, I’ll try like hell to make sure the only time she gets off from now on is when she’s bouncing on the fat end of my stiff rod up her sweet little hole.

  Glancing around after taking three different corridors, I ditch the unsipped coffee into the trash.

  I begin to feel my still pulsing arousal starting to wane when I do.

  Sorry Mandy, I really am. But it’s your cream I want. Not some powdered goop in a paper cup.

  With my mind made up to actually talk to her outside of work, I feel a little better and make my way back up to the cardiology unit. Only to find the director of my department waiting by my office door.

  Mark Chandler.

  Never a good sign. He’s not a bad boss. He just needs some small doses of personality.

  “Foxx, glad I caught you,” he smiles curtly, glancing at his watch to let me know he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.

  “You could’ve just paged me, Mark,” I reply, opening the door to my office that’s rarely locked.

  “I know, I know,” he sighs, puffing out his cheeks and offering me the seat behind my desk in my office.

  I frown but calm myself. Technically, he’s my boss, and I’m assuming this is important.

  Maybe I’ve been reported for walking from the coffee shop into the corridors with a raging hard-on? CCTV picks up everything these days, and there’s no denying the effect my frequent visits to see Mandy have on me.

  I make a mental note to wear my white jacket that would cover that from now on.

  But it’s funny. Every time I see Mandy now, I make sure I’m wearing surgical scrubs for some reason.

  “Foxx, I just spoke with Dr. Waring, and he tells me that you’ve handed your surgical load to him, opting to assist rather than lead the surgical team,” he says dryly.

  It’s not unheard of, and I don’t need to run it past anyone if I choose to assist in place of heading the surgical team.

  My little shrug and questioning brow is my only response until I see he needs more than that to justify his visit.

  “Dr. Waring and everyone else is perfectly capable, Mark,” I remind him.

  “Is everything okay, Foxx? I guess that’s what I’m really asking,” he says in a softer tone, leaning with both hands on my desk but still having to look up at me even though I’m sitting down.

  “Everything’s fine, Mark. I’m just allowing Dr. Waring and some of the others to get a feel for leading surgery,” I explain, not even hiding my annoyance by now.

  I always hate it when I have to justify myself to anyone, even the director of multiple departments.

  “I won’t be around forever, Mark. And the surgical unit needs to be as ready as ever to pick up the slack if anything happens to me or when I retire,” I add, further annoyed by his mocking laugh.

  “You aren’t planning on bailing on me, are ya, Foxx?” he asks, narrowing his eyes and standing erect to fold his arms.

  The sound of my pager interrupts us.

  “Duty calls,” I quip, and without another word to him, I’m out the door and on my way down to the ER.

  “Keep me informed, Foxx. That’s all I ask,” Mark’s voice echoes faintly behind me as I catch an open elevator.

  I’d be more annoyed any other day, to say the least. Following orders and being told what to do isn’t easy for a guy like me.

  I’m big, and the world I live in is small.

  But it’s brighter now that Mandy’s in it.

  And all through the surgical consult down in the ER, I’m acutely aware of the time more than anything else.

  Yes, some guy’s heart’s stopped working, and yes, we can save him.

  But my own heart?

  Well. It feels like it’s been unwrapped for the first time this past week.

  My heart feels like the sun has warmed it with its morning rays. A normally stress-filled week has turned into something amazing.

  Something even bigger than me. And it’s all because of her, because of Mandy.

  I just need to make sure I catch her before she finishes for the day.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mandy

  “Rules are rules,” Mrs. Peters reminds me once Foxx has gone.

  I’m calling him that now, Foxx. He did insist on it.

  Foxx and Mandy…it has a nice ring to it.

  Mr. and Mrs. Foxx De Silva…that has an even nicer ring to it!

  “…And you don’t see me accepting money from anyone now, do ye?” she adds hotly, clicking her tongue.

  I can barely contain my sigh, but I sense there’s more coming from the old woman.

  The ‘nice’ little old lady who’s suddenly not so nice in my mind anymore is trying to climb up my ass.

  That tip could’ve helped pay my rent. Foxx really wanted me to have it, too, I can tell.

  Sensing my change in mood, Mrs. Peters takes my elbow and softens her tone, pulling me closer to her in a near hug.

  “Oh, don’t be like that,” she scolds me playfully, mentioning the leftover food I’m welcome to help myself to once I’m finished for the day. Like she’s buttering me up for something because she is.

  “Anyway, I have to leave early. And, seeing as you could use some extra money, how about you stay until
closing? Wouldn’t that help you out?” she tells me rather than asks me.

  I make a face but can’t say no. I can’t really say ‘yes’ either.

  I’m kinda stuck with a strange expression which she accepts.

  “That’s better. Now. I’ve jotted down a list of things for you…and you already know how to close up, so it’s no big deal, I suppose,” she chirps, handing me a list, assuring me I don’t have to get it all done.

  I study the list with a glance and figure she’s right. A few more bucks in my pocket are way better than a few extra hours alone in my ratty apartment.

  Alone inside my crappy life.

  “I’m here for a little while yet,” she calls out from the back kitchen after she’s certain I’m not going anywhere.

  It’s a quiet rest of the afternoon, but sure enough, it gets busy as soon as Mrs. Peters is due to go, but she hangs back as long as she can.

  And boy, am I glad she does when I spot Foxx for the second time in one shift.

  Jackpot.

  As much as she’s got my goat today, I appreciate it when Mrs. Peters silently makes some room and takes a few extra orders herself so I can start getting Foxx’s order ready before he’s even reached the counter.

  She also lets me know out of everyone’s earshot that I can’t forget to return the money he left earlier as a tip, sliding me the envelope she’s put it in.

  It sucks, but I guess she’s the boss, and rules are rules.

  There’s not a lot of time for chit-chat with Foxx. There’s the late afternoon crowd, but he does seem more than just a little preoccupied himself.

  He even holds up the line once he’s paid. He’s looking at me with a pained expression like he has something to say but just can’t.

  “Hey, pal?” someone calls from the back. “While we’re young, eh? Some of us actually pay for our parking and don’t have all day….”

  Foxx doesn’t flinch, but he does murmur, “Thanks, Mandy. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Before he turns to go, he apologizes to the line for holding them up.

  It doesn’t feel right, though.

  Foxx wanted to say something just now, and well…Well, I just wished there was a way I could go after him and ask.

  “The money, girl. Quick! Go give him that envelope. I’ll hold the fort here,” Mrs. Peters says to me, urging me with her eyes to do exactly what I feel I have to.

  Go to him, ask him if he’s okay.

  Agree to anything he wants, anything to spend another second anywhere near him.

  Even if it means just giving him back the stupid tip money, which isn’t stupid, even though I’m depressed that I can’t keep it.

  I don’t wait for a second invitation to duck out after him, and in moments, I’ve bustled past the tittering coffee cravers heading after Foxx.

  My little thick legs aren’t made for running, but I manage to see him turn down a corridor and pick up speed.

  Rounding the turn, I open my mouth to call out.

  But instead of words, I hear a dry, crackling croak instead as I watch him toss the full cup of creamed coffee I just made him into the nearest trash can.

  I know he hasn’t even sipped it, and the full amount of the steaming liquid leaps into the air before splashing into the rest of the trash.

  It feels like a knife in my belly, too.

  I know it’s not bad coffee, and he’s said so many times he can’t get enough of my cream and sugar either….

  But why would he –?

  There’s no time to even think about it. This pain in my chest makes me grateful I’m in the hospital.

  Not that I have insurance, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a heart attack either.

  It just kills me to see Foxx toss his coffee aside as if it’s nothing.

  As if I’m nothing to him.

  After everything he’s said about how great it is and everything I’ve put into it. I feel… betrayed somehow.

  And he was the one saying ‘talk tomorrow’ as if he meant it.

  I try to tell myself that maybe the coffee’s just bad, or maybe he’s been called away on an emergency but that doesn’t add up either.

  Foxx is walking as tall, calm, and strong as any man would after a cup of Joe.

  He’s not taking it back to complain, and he’s in no hurry.

  My heart feels like it’ll break if I stand here a second longer, and without even thinking about it, I bolt for the nearest exit.

  The cold air outside on my face stings, and everything gets real blurry real quick.

  Until I realize I’m bawling my eyes out, running as best I can, and most definitely not paying attention to where I’m going.

  I just want to get away from this feeling.

  Foxx? How…how could you?

  It’s the last thought I have before I hear the screech of tires.

  My side hurts first, then my foot.

  The whole world suddenly looks and feels like I’ve been stuffed into a running tumble dryer until it all stops.

  I’m on my back, and I can see the sky past the tall downtown buildings.

  There’s the pain in my foot again and then faces hovering over me.

  My eyes flutter, but I can’t seem to keep them open, I just feel heavy, like someone’s put a blanket over me.

  “Is she alive?” I faintly hear one voice asking.

  “Should we call 911? The hospital’s right over there. She really got creamed just now. Did the guy even stop?” asks another.

  I try to say something, but the heaviness in my eyes and mind is too much, and I black out. There’s nothing.

  Finally coming around, I have a jolt of panic followed by that pain in my ankle again, which feels worse whenever I move.

  I cry out with a wince of pain, my eyes darting open as I try to sit up.

  “It’s alright, lay still. You’ve been in an accident. What’s your name?” a kind voice asks, the face of a female paramedic coming into focus a foot above me.

  She’s got a gentle but firm hand on my shoulder to make sure I stay lying down, and she keeps telling me not to move while she puts a neck brace on me.

  “M… Mandy,” I manage to mumble, trying to say something about not wanting an ambulance.

  I’m desperately trying to figure out what’s just happened, knowing it must be bad.

  “Mandy. That’s a nice name,” she continues in a soothing tone.

  “I’m Monica, and we’re gonna take you over to the hospital, get you checked out, okay?”

  I’m trying to fight it, this sleepiness. Trying to say I don’t have insurance to go to any damned hospital, but it’s no use.

  I let my eyes close again, and I’m barely able to keep awake while I feel myself being lifted up.

  The sounds of the street, the ambulance, and the small crowd I figure must be rubber-necking aren’t enough to stop me from passing out.

  My final thought is Foxx and how I forgive him for everything.

  Wishing he was here to help me instead.

  Wishing I hadn’t been such a damned fool by running off like that in the first place.

  Oh, Foxx… I’m sorry…

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Foxx

  After assessing the patient in the ER, I arrange to have him sent straight up to the cardiac unit after he’s stabilized.

  And seeing as I’m on the ground floor already, it’s the perfect excuse to duck off for another coffee once I’m done.

  The little coffee shop has a late afternoon rush that seems to have followed me. But Mandy’s there. That’s all I really care about.

  My mouth twitches with approval, but I’m trying hard not to smile like a lunatic every time I see her.

  And seeing her face shift to happy instead of busy once she spots me tells me I can’t just be imagining this connection between us either.

  I’m so lost in just staring at her, feeling more tongue-tied than ever like the idea she might just might actually feel the same way I do burns through my brain. It eclipses the thought of asking her out or even walking her home once she’s finished.

  The real reason I’m supposed to be here.

  Remember?

  Even though I just know she is the one, it couldn’t be this simple. It seems that Mandy was dropped right into my lap.

  God, I’d give anything right now to have her on my lap, coffee, and all. I mean, a girl like Mandy must have a dozen guys a day wanting her number.