“Very mature. Did you say you were nine or twenty-nine?”

We had a mini staring contest and then the ridiculousness of the situation made me break out in laughter. Dr. Dreamy joined in, and when we were done, the air had shifted back. “Why don’t you go on and turn around and let me take a better look this time? I’ll be serious.” He held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor. What kind of a hook is it? A Circle? Treble? Aberdeen?”

“I have no idea.” I turned back to face the treatment table, assumed the dreadful bent-over position again, and lifted my gown. “I really don’t know much about fishing.”

“You don’t say…”

“Does the type of hook matter? I could probably find out if I need to.”

I heard the slap of latex from Dr. Hogue putting on his gloves and then his large hand was on my ass. “It’s pretty far in there, actually. I’m not sure the type of hook really matters. Looks like I’m going to have to make a clean slice to slip it out no matter what. How did you get the thing set so deep in there anyway?”

“I was on a little row boat out in Narragansett. I was trying to teach my son how to cast.”

Dr. Hogue squeezed the area where the hook was embedded. “Oww.”

“Sorry. You know teachers are supposed to have knowledge on the subject they teach.”

“Just take out the hook.”

“I’m going to need to numb you up first in order to slice it open.”

“Can’t you just thread the hook back out?”

“Nope. More than the tip is in your arse, and it looks like it’s got a long shaft.”

God, my body had been ice cold for two years—not a hint of heat even when I’d taken my own hands to it. And it decided to spring back to life at this moment. I was bent over a table talking about the tip of a long shaft going in with a man who could have been a model instead of a wise-cracking doctor. Perfect timing, Bridget. I was suddenly glad to be in this position I was in so he couldn’t see the flush on my face. I felt the good doctor walk away and then the heat from his body returned.

“Stand by for a quick pinch.”

“Ouch!” As quickly as the word escaped me, the pain was over.

“Okay, that should numb the area so we can dig in and extract the hook without too much pain.”

It was quiet for a minute or so before I felt his hands on my ass again.

Ohhh.

His voice seemed to go lower, deeper. “Just relax, Bridget. Breathe in and out. Everything’s going to be okay.”

He sounded almost…seductive. The muscles between my legs contracted. God, was I really getting off from having a fishing hook removed from my ass? The answer would be yes. Yes, I was.

“You’re just going to feel a little bit of pressure.”

I couldn’t help where my mind went. I imagined what it would be like if he came up behind me with a special surprise, bestowing upon me way more pressure than I bargained for.

Get your mind out of the gutter, Bridget!

“Here we go,” he said.

I felt the skin of my ass stretching along with some tugging.

“It’s out,” he finally said. “Just going to bandage you up. Hold still.”

It actually hadn’t hurt nearly as much as I’d expected.

“Well, Ms. V., it looks like you are officially off the hook. Pun intended.”

When I turned around, he had the hook in his hand.

“This is known as a double hook, by the way,” he said.

“Good to know.”

“Do you want to keep it for any reason? A souvenir?”

“No. Thank you.”

“Very well, then.” Dr. Hogue set the hook down on the tray and then removed his gloves, discarding them in the trashcan marked Biohazard.

He took something from his pocket and began to write something on a piece of paper.

“What is that?”

“Don’t worry. It’s not my number, just a prescription for some antibiotic cream in case you need it. I’ll leave it right on the desk here. You can get dressed, and then you’re free to go.”

He lingered for a few seconds before he said, “Take care now. Watch your back, Bridget. Or rather, your backside.”

“Wait,” I blurted out.

He stopped and turned around. “Yes?”

A piece of his blond hair had fallen into his eyes. He was so handsome.

I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry if I was…”

“A pain in the arse?”

My cheeks felt hot. “Yes.”

“No worries.” He winked.

And just like that, Dr. Dreamy disappeared out of the room. Unfortunately for me, my sore ass had been replaced by a tingling vagina.THREE MONTHS LATERThe phone rang while I was getting ready to work the first of three consecutive, twelve-hour shifts.

“Hello?”

“Bridge?”

“Hey, Calliope.”

“I just wanted to let you know I’ve given Simon the key to your flat. Is that okay?”