Hotshot Doc(16)

She crosses her arms and shifts her gaze over my shoulders, taking a second to collect herself. When she answers, her tone is sharp but cool. “Nearly four years.”

“He speaks highly of you.”

She shrugs. “We had a good thing going.”

“Would you like to continue working in spine?”

“Preferably.”

“Have you ever assisted on a pediatric scoliosis case?”

“No. Dr. Lopez only operates on adults, fusions mainly.”

That’s exactly my concern.

“Those take two or three hours max. My surgeries can last three times that long.”

She forces herself to meet my eyes, and I’m shocked. A moment ago, she seemed ready to burst, but now she looks bored, almost as if she’s about to dismiss me. It’s a ruse. I wish I could press two fingers to the porcelain skin just below her neck and feel for her pulse. I bet it’s racing. There’s no way she’s as calm as she’s pretending to be.

“I’m confused,” she says, her tone betraying nothing but curiosity. “Are you offering me a job or trying to warn me away?”

That’s the question of the morning it seems. Half of me is convinced working with her would be a complete disaster. My job is stressful enough. Unfortunately, I’m also in need of a decent surgical assistant, someone up to the task.

I think Bailey could be that person.

I sigh and step back. “Your first case is Monday morning. Ask Patricia for the information and learn the steps of a pedicle subtraction osteotomy like a child’s life depends on it—because it does. I’m giving you one chance.”

Then, I turn and walk away.

It feels slightly unnerving turning my back on the enemy. I think she’s going to shout something at me in an effort to get the last word, but there’s nothing but silence as I head to the stairwell. I yank the heavy metal door open and disappear inside.

I know without a shadow of a doubt she’ll be there on Monday morning.

I smile as I take the stairs two at a time.

I just got myself a shiny new surgical assistant.





Chapter 7





BAILEY



I arrive at work on Monday bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. My hair and makeup look flawless. My scrubs are starched and fit to a T. My coffee thermos is in hand and I sip from it until I have just enough caffeine to keep me alert, but not so much that I’ll have to run to the bathroom every five seconds. I make the kind of first impression people dream about. Dr. Russell pulls me aside after surgery to commend me on my work ethic, and his eyes look especially blue. What’s that? He’s going to give me a little smooch to show me his appreciation? This is totally unexpected, but oddly…thrilling. I want this kiss. I might hate his guts, but I don’t hate his lips, or his face, or his hair.

That arguing we did in the hallway on Friday was foreplay if I’ve ever felt it.

I want this kiss so badly. I press up onto my tiptoes, and when that’s not enough, I wrap my hand around his neck and tug down, down, down, then I pucker up and hold on for dear life.

Just before our lips meet, a loud pounding starts reverberating through the hospital hallway. I flinch and the dream disappears.

Josie’s banging on my door. “Wake up, you idiot! You’re going to be late!”

NO.

NO!

My eyes jerk open and I reach for my phone on the bedside table. It’s 7:27 AM.

Dr. Russell’s surgery is scheduled for eight o’clock, sharp.

I shove my blanket aside and leap out of bed.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU WAKE ME UP?!”

“Because I thought you were already at work! You’re never here at this time!”

“Shit! Shit! Shiiiiiit!”

I scramble.

I want to weep and stamp my feet and curse the gods for this injustice, but I really just curse Dr. Russell. This is all his fault. He got into my head on Friday, scaring me about being prepared. Learn the steps of a pedicle subtraction osteotomy like a child’s life depends on it—because it does. Oh, okay, no pressure or anything!

I had every step of the procedure memorized by Saturday night, but even still, I studied all day yesterday too. I stayed up late, reviewing the patient’s file and committing every detail to memory. The procedure is going to be difficult, ten times more so than anything I’ve done with Dr. Lopez. My nerves were getting to me, so I pushed through and kept studying until my sight went fuzzy and the lines of text on the page turned into inky blobs. I wanted to know the surgery forward and backward. I wanted to be able to identify every piece of hardware with my eyes closed.

By the time I finally went to bed, it was well into the early morning hours, and now look at me—I’M GOING TO BE LATE! I hop around on one foot while I tug on my pants. I put my jeans on backward. Only half my hair makes it into my ponytail.

I dart around for things I think I’ll need: keys, purse, phone, shoe. Where’s the other one?!

This isn’t happening. This is another dream. I’ve never been late. I’m not a late person. In all my years working with Dr. Lopez, this has never happened. I’m so totally screwed.

Josie chucks a wrapped-up muffin at my head as I run for the door. I catch it before it falls to the floor and stuff it in my purse.

“Don’t worry, I’ll start looking into other jobs for you!” she shouts at my back, and instead of rolling my eyes and thinking, That Josie is going to send me to an early grave, I think, Great! That’d actually be wonderful because I am 110% going to need it. Even knowing I’ll be jobless soon, I decide to splurge on an Uber and skip the bus, knowing I don’t have time for public transportation today. I’m shaking and on the verge of tears as we hit traffic.