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Lark: Also Lucy won’t stop texting me. Please put her out of her misery.

I smile despite myself, thumb hovering over the screen. Those two are going to lose their minds when they hear about the rotating car turntable and the fact that I’m currently living in a very expensive, very colorless mansion with four alphas.

I start typing a reply when another text pops up from Lucy.

Lucy: If you don’t answer me, I’m driving over there and kidnapping you.

I snort softly and shake my head, already tapping out a response to the group text between the three of us.

Cammie: All good, ladies. Been sleeping.

I hit send and set the phone down, only to realize I really need to pee. I take a deep breath and try to sit up on my own. Huge mistake.

Pain explodes through my core like someone stabbed me with a hot poker. My abs, which have always been more soft and friendly than rock hard, scream in protest, the fresh incision pulling tight while deep bruises from the accident throb in time with my heartbeat. In the hospital there was always someone to help, plus that magical adjustable bed that did half the work for me. Here? Just me, a normal mattress, and a whole lot of bladder pressure.

“Fuck,” I hiss, dropping back against the pillows.

I lie there for a long moment, breathing through the worst of it, staring at the ceiling like it did this to me. Then I reach for my phone again.

All the guys added their numbers while I was half-conscious earlier. I scroll through the new contacts. Piers (just his name, very on-brand), Leith (also just his name), and Beck…

I snort when I see what he saved himself as.

Beck - Love Doctor

I tap out a quick text before I can overthink it.

Cammie: Can you come help me get out of bed?

His reply is almost instant.

Beck - Love Doctor: Love Doctor to the rescue.

I roll my eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck, but I can’t stop the small smile tugging at my lips. He’s ridiculous. Over-the-top. A walking flirt with zero chill. And weirdly, I kind of like it.

I set the phone on my stomach and wait, trying not to think too hard about the fact that I’m texting one of my scent matches for help getting out of bed like a helpless baby bird.

Beck doesn’t make me wait long. His citrus scent fills the room before he's through the door. Clean and bright and way too appealing for seven in the evening when I'm wearing a wrinkled dress and desperately need to pee.

He steps into the room wearing nothing but a pair of loose black pajama pants that sit dangerously low on his hips. Wide shoulders, muscular chest and arms that look strong without trying too hard, warm golden skin with a light sun-kissed glow, and those mostly brown hazel eyes that crinkle when he smiles at me. A thin trail of light hair runs from his navel and disappears under the waistband of his pants.

Great. Now I have to pee and I’m horny. Like I could do anything about it right now anyway. Priorities, Cammie. Eyes on his face. No need to ogle the scent match. But one little peek won’t hurt, right?

I peek.

Nope. That does not help. Not one bit. Back to his eyes. Immediately.

“You need me, sugar?” he teases as he crosses the room.

“I need to pee,” I admit, “but it’s hard to get out of bed.”

“Love Doctor to the rescue,” he says with a wink, but the bravado is softened by how careful he is. He slides one arm behind my back and the other under my knees, supporting me as I swing my legs over the side. I end up leaning on him way more than I’m proud of, my forehead pressing against his bare shoulder for a second while the pain flares.

“Easy, there,” he murmurs, voice gentler now. “I’ve got you. It’ll take a few days for the soreness to loosen up.”

He’s steady and patient as he helps me stand. Then he guides me slowly into the attached bathroom like I’m made of glass. Once we’re inside, he… stands there.

I look at the toilet. Then at him. Then back at the toilet. “Um… are you leaving?”