“Let me pay for those,” I quickly offer, reaching into my pocket to pull out my wallet.

Madison waves me off. “It’s fine, honestly.”

“No, I insist,” I press, trying to do a mental calculation of how much the drinks would have amounted to.

“It’s fine, Dixon,” she perseveres kindly, placing a gentle hand on my wrist to halt my movement.

The moment her fingers meet my skin, a zap of something singes through my body, and we both pull away, taken aback by the unpredicted response. My eyes unintentionally drop to her soaked chest, and I see a hint of her pink bra peek through the sheer material. She may be a small girl, but damn, she sure is blessed in the boob department.

I quickly clear my throat and raise my eyes, as I’m sure she can see me staring at her.

“I better get back to work,” she timidly says, and makes a move to stand.

I move out of her way, and also stand awkwardly, not knowing what to say next.

I’ve forgotten how short she is, and standing in her black Chucks and black shorts, she looks simply adorable. Her long brown hair has slipped free from a loose ponytail, and with her stained T-shirt, she looks a total mess—but not in a bad way. She looks like a beautiful disaster.

“Well, see ya,” she says with a wave, when I don’t say anything.

“Oh, yeah, okay, bye.” I find myself wanting to ask her what time she gets off, but I don’t.

I just watch as she makes her way into the kitchen, leaving me to once again question what the hell that was.

6

Like an Animal

DIXON

It’s Friday, and my week has thankfully remained drama free since Monday. I intend to keep it that way.

Juliet’s very public display of self-gratification has definitely been an inspirational vision to accompany my jacking off, but funnily enough, so has Madison’s innocent pink bra. I’m attracted to both women, but for entirely different reasons. It’s not as simple and clear cut as this, but I’m drawn to Madison’s innocence while I’m enticed by Juliet’s depravity.

I haven’t really figured either of them out yet, but now that I know Madison works Mondays, I intend to pay her a visit and try to get to know her better. As for Juliet, I’m actually a little afraid to get to know her better; I have a feeling the real Juliet Harte would eat me alive for breakfast.

The phone thankfully interrupts my thoughts, and I answer on the third ring.

“Hello, this is Dr. Mathews.”

“Dixon, my friend, how are you?” says Chad Turner, who is on the Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences board.

“Hello, Chad. I’m great, thank you. To what do I owe this pleasure?” I ask, getting straight to the point, because this isn’t a social call.

Chad chuckles, no doubt appreciating my forwardness, as neither of us are one for small talk. “Dixon, I’m calling because I would like to extend a formal invitation for you to attend our annual Gerald Harriet’s Fellowship Award night, which will be held later in the year.”

I take a moment to process what he just said, as this is big. I’ve been trying to get an invite to this prestigious ceremony for years, but I’ve always missed out.

Without further delay, I reply, “Chad, I would be absolutely honored. Thank you.” And I mean every word.

But I can’t help but wonder why this year is different.

Chad must be able to read my confusion as he quickly clarifies, “Although you’re not in the running for the award this year, your research on neurobiology and addiction hasn’t gone unnoticed by the board. You keep it up, and next year, you’ve got a real good shot at being a strong contender.”

It’s every doctor’s dream to be invited to this event, but the hint of possibly being nominated next year is phenomenal.

Keeping my calm, however, I reply, “Well, I better ensure I keep up the good work. Please send all information to my office, and I’ll make sure to RSVP by the date.”

“Excellent. I look forward to seeing you there,” Chad says happily. “Keep up the good work, Dixon. We’re keeping a close eye on you.” He hangs up before I have a chance to reply.

Holy shit, this is beyond amazing. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine that me, Dixon Mathews, the only son of an Italian migrant family, would get this opportunity. I think this calls for a celebration.

Reaching for my phone, an unexpected thought occurs to me. Chad did say they’re keeping a close eye on me. And yes, I’ve mostly kept my nose clean, but this situation with Ms. Harte could certainly turn ugly and taint my career if it ever got out.

What happened earlier in the week would definitely result in my license being revoked for unethical conduct. I’ve worked hard to maintain the noteworthy position I’m currently in, and I cannot, or rather, I will not allow my cock to fuck up something I’ve worked too hard to achieve.

With a defeated sigh, I lift the receiver and page Susanna.

“Dr. Mathews?”

“Hello, Ms. Vale. There’s a patient I need you to contact.”

“Of course. Who might that be?”

Taking a muted breath, I reply, “Ms. Juliet Harte.”

“What would you like me to tell her?” Susanna innocently inquires.

Ignoring the pang of regret, I sigh. “Please let her know I can no longer treat her, and pass on Dr. Geo’s details.”

“Not a problem, Dr. Mathews. Is there anything else you would like me to say?”

There are a thousand things I wish I could say. But this is for the best.

“No, Ms. Vale. Let’s leave it at that.”

Friday night drinks are what get me through the week, and after today’s news, I can’t wait to kick back and have a few beers with the boys to celebrate my good fortune.

“If I may, I would like to propose a toast to my good friend, Dr. Dixon Mathews, who may be a womanizing jerk at times—” I roll my eyes, but listen to Hunter’s heartfelt speech “—but he’s shown great restraint by saying hell no to the foxy nympho to save his career. Some may say he’s gone crazy, or maybe even turned a little soft, but I’m proud of him for putting his blue balls in his suitcase, and focusing on what’s important.”

“Amen!” Finch butts in, raising his glass of Coke.

“Thanks. I think.” We clink glasses, and I take a well-deserved sip.

I’ve told them about my decision to no longer see Juliet, and they were both in agreement that it’s for the best.

“So, now that McSlutty Slut is outta your life, are you gonna cuddle up to that cute little brunette from the other night?” Hunter asks, waggling his eyebrows.

“McSlutty Slut? Jesus, that’s a little rough.”

Hunter shrugs. “I call ’em as I see’em.”

“Well, if everyone lived by your rules, whatever do you think they’d call you?” I ask, smiling.

“They’d call me Hunter…the God of fuck.”

I chuckle, while Finch rolls his eyes.

“Stop changing the subject, you pussy. So, the brunette? What are your plans?” He rubs his hands together mischievously.

After bumping into Madison the other day, the boys have been on my case to go visit her. Both Hunter and Finch commented on some weird “love eyes” I had while looking at her—I honestly have no idea where they come up with this shit. But truthfully, I have been thinking about her, and I do plan on visiting her soon, just not right away.

I don’t want to come across as desperate, or come on too strong, so I’ll keep my cards close to my chest for now.

Sick of being the lab rat for the evening, I ask with a wink, “So, how about you, Hunter? Passing for Chris Hemsworth’s brother surely helps with the ladies.”

Hunter takes a sip of beer, shaking his head. “He already has a brother, and if the ladies he attracts are any indication of what’s headed my way, I’m more than happy to keep flying solo.”