Doc has been a member of the Desert Rebels for a long time. He had his own clinic until a sweet, beautiful nurse came on board and ruined everything. Harlow is married and a complication Doc didn't need. He tried; he really did. But after a while he couldn't stand working beside a woman he wanted more than he needed air to breathe

Giving his practice up seemed the only logical solution, but life has a way of kicking you in the ass when you least expect it. Harlow becomes friends with some of the old ladies and suddenly she's frequenting the clubhouse and club owned bar. There's only one way Doc can survive being around her.

Make the beauty hate him any way he can.

Excerpt - Doc's POV

A divorce? It took only a moment for that news to reach my brain, and then my body reacted. I needed to get Harlow somewhere private where we could be alone for the conversation I had in mind. A divorce was fucking music to my ears, and the only other question I had for her was when. When was it going to be final? And then I was going to go into stark detail of everything I was going to do to her.

Maybe even give her a sample, if she was receptive to the idea.

It occurred to me that I had some serious damage control to take care of. As I pulled her around the building toward the clubhouse door, Mitzi stepped outside, carrying a tray. Her eyes lit up when she saw me, and I clenched my teeth because I knew what was coming next, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

"Baby! I was going to look for you after I dropped this tray off." Her eyes moved past me to Harlow, then dropped to our linked hands. Confusion flirted across her face, and I could tell that she was trying to work out what was going on. To anyone else it wouldn't have been obvious, but Mitzi and I had an arrangement, and she had her orders. "Thank you for a good time last night."

Nothing had happened the night before.

Mitzi used her free hand to caress the side of my face and shot me a lingering, flirty, air kiss. "I've never had so many orgasms," she added, twisting in the knife.

It was an outrageous comment, and I knew it had sealed the nail in my coffin. It was also a flat out lie. Not the orgasm part, but her insinuation that it had been with me. She and Snake had put on quite a show for the rest of us the night before, knowing that the dark little corner they'd been sitting in wouldn't disguise their noisy sex marathon.

I felt Harlow tug on her hand to get away from me, but I tightened my grip.

"Let me go, Liam."

"Not until we talk."

"There's nothing to talk about." She dug in her heel. "Do I have to call for backup?"

I snorted out a laugh before I could stop it. She was cute if she thought anyone at the clubhouse would dare intervene, unless her posse of old ladies was nearby. They would come to her rescue, and they were scary when they were on the warpath.

"I'll scream."

It sounded like a hollow threat, but I came to a jerking halt and spun around to face her. "Then I'll just have to stuff something in your mouth to keep you quiet." Like my tongue. Or better yet, my dick. With every word I spoke, Harlow's eyes widened, and her mouth fell open with disbelief. Perfect.

"I'm-I'm not one of your, ah, club girls," she sputtered, her cheeks turning pink.

I could see the hurt in her eyes. Hear the slight quiver in her voice. Damn, she was beautiful, standing there all flushed and indignant, looking so sweet and innocent. My gaze traveled down to her amazing tits. The dress she had on was tight at the top, outlining their fullness. One of the thin straps had slipped down her shoulder, momentarily distracting me. Then I felt her tug her hand again.

Warning, may have triggers for some readers.