Triplets for The Millionaire : A Secret Baby Romance (Doctors of Denver Book 4) by K.C. Crowne

Author:K.C. Crowne [Crowne, K.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-04T18:30:00+00:00

“Aw, damnit!” I spoke the words out loud to no one but myself as I drove to the clinic.

It was Wednesday, and I was on my way downtown to do my pro-bono shift. In the middle of a bout of frustration, I realized that my perfect plan to never see Patrick again was doomed. I’d forgotten all about the little fact that he was one of the potential investors for the clinic.

And that day, the investors were coming in to check out the place, have a meeting with some of the doctors. That meant I’d be seeing him whether I liked it or not.

I drove on, the glass and steel condos of the ritzier, newer parts of downtown giving way to the rougher, worn-out townhomes and tenements of the block where the clinic was located. Men and women dressed in ratty winter gear meandered here and there, most of them seeming to have no place to go.

When I drove to the clinic, all I could think about was the potential of the area. I liked to imagine the clinic getting the funding it needed so the staff and I would be able to re-do the building, to fill it with new equipment. It would be the cornerstone of the neighborhood becoming something new and great. And more than that, I’d be able to give the people here the care they needed but couldn’t afford.

It was a fantasy I was happy to let myself get lost in. I loved working at Pitt Medical, but the clinic satisfied me intrinsically. Patrick or no, the clinic needed investment. We wouldn’t be able to do it on our own.

I parked in the small lot next to the clinic and stepped out into the cold, pulling my coat tight against the chill wind. Seconds later I was in the lobby of the clinic, the place abuzz with activity. However, there was no one at the front desk.

“Shit,” I hissed under my breath. The reason no one was at the front was simple – we relied on volunteers to run this place. Volunteers had their own lives that took priority over putting in pro-bono time at a clinic in the bad part of town.

A dozen or so people were in the waiting room, all of them noticing my white doctor’s coat under my jacket and looking to me with expectant eyes. Before any of them could say a word to me, the door leading to the back rooms opened. The man who appeared was a familiar face – Dr. Ryan Anderson. He looked as good as ever, tall and handsome and clean-cut, not a hair out of place.

“Alright,” he said, glancing down at a tablet in his hands. “Mr. Gutierrez?”

On the far side of the room a man stood up, an adorable little girl with dark hair and pig tails and a Dora the Explorer T-shirt on her tiny frame. The father said something to the girl, who nodded, followed by a dry, hacking cough. The sight of the sick little girl was enough to break my heart.

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