Yeah, Stone couldn't help that he found Brad Lipski attractive. But he could control his desires like a man should. He wasn't going to waste time on a guy who had a family.
Right, the girls.
"How long have you been taking care of them?" he asked, trying to steer his thoughts toward any topic other than how insanely attractive Brad was.
"Two years," Brad replied. "It was two years last month."
So they had been thirteen when he took them in. A tough age, both for a child and a guardian. Colin wondered what had happened. Had their parents died in a car accident? Or maybe one of them had passed away earlier, and the other only later. Divorce didn't seem likely. Not when there had been a framed picture of a happy family at home. Honestly, a car crash seemed like the most realistic explanation. The most common one.
He wanted to ask but decided it would be a bit too intrusive.
Lipski must have sensed his curiosity. He even glanced at Colin but didn't elaborate. Maybe it was too painful. Maybe too personal. Maybe both.
"We're almost there," he said instead. "I'll go in first. We don't know what the situation is like right now."
Exactly. They didn't know. So why was Brad volunteering to walk into the unknown ahead of Stone? Was it part of his effort to keep their precious doctor safe? Or had he simply gotten used to protecting the girls that way? Both explanations were reasonable, but neither satisfied Colin. It was stupid, but he wanted Brad to want to protect him as a person. Him—Colin Stone—not just the doctor.
He clenched his teeth, and as soon as the car came to a stop, he got out.
At the edge of the road stood a wooden pub, surrounded by trees. In front of the pub, motorcycles and cars were parked. Some of the bikes had blue flames and Viking helmets painted on them.
Wow, how original, Colin mocked in his thoughts. Probably some motorcycle gang members looking for fun. They must have known about this place because it wasn't on the main road.
"Hey, I said I'd go in first!" Brad's heavy hand landed on his shoulder, holding him in place. His eyes gleamed darkly. You didn't argue with a guy like that.
So Colin didn't argue.
"You did," he acknowledged and moved forward. "But you also said we didn't have time."
"Yeah, but—"
Stone had no intention of backing down. His heart was pounding too hard. He was a doctor, but that didn't mean he worked in ideal conditions. In the emergency room, aggressive cases happened practically every day. A night on duty sometimes felt like a war zone.
That was exactly why he hated working there.
Colin wasn't going to let himself be outpaced, but Brad still stepped inside first.
"Sorry," Lipski muttered as he passed him.
For some reason, Stone felt the urge to punch him. Or at least shove him with his elbow and slip in ahead of him, but... he ran out of time. Brad was already inside. Colin followed right behind.
The stench of alcohol and blood hit him immediately.
Broken glass. Shattered chairs.
At the pool table sat a tattooed, massive biker with a shaved head, glaring at a guy in a flannel shirt on the other side of the room, who was clutching his head. A slender woman with long, dark curls was helping him hold a bloodied towel to his wound.
"Are you out of your fucking mind, you little shit?" the man in the checkered shirt yelled. He seemed to have the worst injury.
"You fucking—" The bald biker tried to stand up, but a few of his buddies held him back.
"Let it go," one of them urged. "The cops will be here any minute."
"Fucking bullshit!" he growled in response, spitting on the floor.
Colin decided not to bother with him—at least not for now. Not when he had a man with a bleeding head wound in front of him.
"Hi, I'm Colin Stone," he introduced himself. "New doctor in White Shore. I'd like to take a look at that wound…"
Yes, focus on the injured. The situation in the bar seemed stable. This wasn't a bar brawl where everyone fought everyone—it looked more like a personal dispute between two men.
The guy in the flannel looked at him suspiciously. Then his gaze shifted to Lipski.
"He's okay," Brad said, scanning the bar. "It's fine. Lisa? Are you all right?"
Colin, focused on examining the wound, still noticed the warmth and concern in Lipski's voice when he asked that question.
"Yes, don't worry," the bartender answered in a soft alto.
"You sure?"
Colin felt uncomfortable. They spoke with such tenderness, as if they were… Well, why wouldn't they be?
And yet the thought unsettled and distracted him.
Right, what were the chances that in a place like this, a good-looking guy would turn out to be gay? Two percent? Less?
"Did you call the police?"
What an irritatingly caring tone.
"Yes. They should be here any minute."
Colin clenched his jaw.
"I need to stitch this up," he informed, pulling a needle from his bag.
The man in the flannel grimaced.
If you're afraid of needles, why the hell do you get into fights? Colin thought, trying his best to suppress his irritation. Damn it. Called to a scene before he had even officially started his job.
His stay in White Shore was off to a great start.
First, the bus accident, and now this… He bit his lower lip.
"I'll try to make it painless," he said in a quiet, steady voice and got to work.
"What was this about?" Brad practically leaned over the bartender as he asked the question.
The woman shrugged.
"A woman," she answered just as quietly.
Not quietly enough, because her words seemed to reignite the attacker's fury.
"Fucking homewrecker!" the biker roared, breaking free from his friends. He grabbed a bottle and lunged toward the injured man.
Shit!
Colin reacted instinctively. He shielded his patient with his whole body, lowering his head, bracing to take the hit—