My Husband Sold Me to His Stepdad’s Clinic - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
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I'd just gotten back from a party when I literally bumped into Vincent Lowell after his late shift.
The moment we collided, his masculine scent and overwhelming presence hit me like a wave. My cheeks burned as my heart started doing somersaults in my chest.
Now that we were standing so close, I could really appreciate Vincent's physique—that deep tan, those broad shoulders, the way his shirt stretched across his chest. Good Lord, no wonder my husband always joked about his godfather's "legendary proportions."
"Hey there, trouble," Vincent murmured, his warm breath tickling my ear. "You okay, Evelyn?"
That rich baritone snapped me back to reality. I caught his gaze lingering—just for a heartbeat—on my figure before he politely looked away, but it was enough to make me hyperaware of my scandalously short bodycon dress and sheer black stockings. Every curve of my hourglass frame was on full display.
Vincent wasn't usually home at this hour. Of all the nights for our paths to cross...
Thank God he wasn't the judgmental type. The fifty-something widower had always been cool about my fashion choices—probably why he still turned heads with that silver fox charm of his.
I crossed my bare legs self-consciously, the silk stockings whispering against each other. My face burned hotter when last night's conversation with Daniel flashed through my mind.
"I-I'm fine," I stammered, immediately cringing at my own awkwardness.
Vincent's lips quirked. "Since you're here—Daniel filled me in about your situation. Why don't we head to my study? I can examine you now."
My brain short-circuited. He knew? My husband actually told him?
"Ah—" I bit my lip hard enough to taste copper. "I'm not... ready for that."
The chuckle he let out vibrated through my bones as he stepped closer. "What's there to prepare for, sweetheart?" His large hands settled on my shoulders, radiating heat through the flimsy spaghetti straps. "Relax, I don't just specialize in fertility issues. That tennis elbow of yours? I could fix that too."
His thumbs began working the tension from my muscles with practiced ease. Normally I'd slap someone for touching me like this, but with Vincent... there was something thrilling about it.
"Evelyn, breathe. I might not be a magician, but I am board-certified." His soothing voice rumbled near my ear while those magic hands kept kneading.
I didn't register a word.
Holy hell, his hands were strong.
A traitorous shiver ran down my spine, my knees threatening to buckle. I hastily stepped back, mumbling something about scheduling a proper appointment. Seizing the moment, I called Daniel—who, conveniently, was pulling an all-nighter at the office. For some reason, relief flooded through me.
Vincent's study looked like something out of a medical drama—all dark wood and leather, with a single examination table that suddenly seemed way too intimate.
I hovered by the desk, my stockings sticking together as I fidgeted. Just us in the house. Normally that wouldn't be weird, but for this? My pulse pounded in my throat.
"Evelyn," Vincent said gently while arranging instruments, "to doctors, patients are just anatomy. Besides, we're practically family." His warm smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "You kids have your whole lives ahead. Wouldn't mind bouncing a grandbaby on my knee someday."
He had a point. Any specialist would see me like this... and Vincent was the best. For my future... for Daniel...
I took a shaky breath. Please fix me.
The leather creaked as I laid back. Vincent reached for a strap beside the table, and my stomach did a flip.
The moment we collided, his masculine scent and overwhelming presence hit me like a wave. My cheeks burned as my heart started doing somersaults in my chest.
Now that we were standing so close, I could really appreciate Vincent's physique—that deep tan, those broad shoulders, the way his shirt stretched across his chest. Good Lord, no wonder my husband always joked about his godfather's "legendary proportions."
"Hey there, trouble," Vincent murmured, his warm breath tickling my ear. "You okay, Evelyn?"
That rich baritone snapped me back to reality. I caught his gaze lingering—just for a heartbeat—on my figure before he politely looked away, but it was enough to make me hyperaware of my scandalously short bodycon dress and sheer black stockings. Every curve of my hourglass frame was on full display.
Vincent wasn't usually home at this hour. Of all the nights for our paths to cross...
Thank God he wasn't the judgmental type. The fifty-something widower had always been cool about my fashion choices—probably why he still turned heads with that silver fox charm of his.
I crossed my bare legs self-consciously, the silk stockings whispering against each other. My face burned hotter when last night's conversation with Daniel flashed through my mind.
"I-I'm fine," I stammered, immediately cringing at my own awkwardness.
Vincent's lips quirked. "Since you're here—Daniel filled me in about your situation. Why don't we head to my study? I can examine you now."
My brain short-circuited. He knew? My husband actually told him?
"Ah—" I bit my lip hard enough to taste copper. "I'm not... ready for that."
The chuckle he let out vibrated through my bones as he stepped closer. "What's there to prepare for, sweetheart?" His large hands settled on my shoulders, radiating heat through the flimsy spaghetti straps. "Relax, I don't just specialize in fertility issues. That tennis elbow of yours? I could fix that too."
His thumbs began working the tension from my muscles with practiced ease. Normally I'd slap someone for touching me like this, but with Vincent... there was something thrilling about it.
"Evelyn, breathe. I might not be a magician, but I am board-certified." His soothing voice rumbled near my ear while those magic hands kept kneading.
I didn't register a word.
Holy hell, his hands were strong.
A traitorous shiver ran down my spine, my knees threatening to buckle. I hastily stepped back, mumbling something about scheduling a proper appointment. Seizing the moment, I called Daniel—who, conveniently, was pulling an all-nighter at the office. For some reason, relief flooded through me.
Vincent's study looked like something out of a medical drama—all dark wood and leather, with a single examination table that suddenly seemed way too intimate.
I hovered by the desk, my stockings sticking together as I fidgeted. Just us in the house. Normally that wouldn't be weird, but for this? My pulse pounded in my throat.
"Evelyn," Vincent said gently while arranging instruments, "to doctors, patients are just anatomy. Besides, we're practically family." His warm smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "You kids have your whole lives ahead. Wouldn't mind bouncing a grandbaby on my knee someday."
He had a point. Any specialist would see me like this... and Vincent was the best. For my future... for Daniel...
I took a shaky breath. Please fix me.
The leather creaked as I laid back. Vincent reached for a strap beside the table, and my stomach did a flip.
End of My Husband Sold Me to His Stepdad’s Clinic Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to My Husband Sold Me to His Stepdad’s Clinic book page.