Hotshot Doc(26)

“So for you, it’s better to respect someone than to like them?”

I look up to see her head tilted to the side. She’s studying me with furrowed brows. This wisp of a girl is putting me under a microscope in my own office and I don’t like it.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The edge of her mouth softens and then tilts up into an alluring smile. “So, there’s no hope for us? As friends?”

She’s teasing me and right here, in this moment, there’s a hopeful feeling blooming in my chest. My cold dead heart might not be completely out of commission after all.

Then, I do the only logical thing: I shove that feeling aside.

“No. There’s no hope.”

Not as friends, and not as anything more, though I feel stupid even having to clarify that to myself. I would never even consider Bailey attractive if Cooper hadn’t shifted her into the category for me. These errant thoughts are his fault.

She nods, and I’m surprised to see she doesn’t look upset. In fact, she looks relieved. She snaps the lid back on the Tupperware. “Then I’ll just take this bread to the break room. No point in it going to waste. See you in surgery!”

Then she saunters out.

She leaves my office and takes my damn banana bread with her.





Chapter 11





BAILEY



What a colossal waste of my time. I cringe thinking of how carefully I measured out those ingredients yesterday. I hovered near our ancient stove, face inches from the glass, sweat beading down my forehead from how much heat that sucker was putting off, just to ensure the loaf didn’t burn.

Baking was my way of trying to gain control of the situation. I’d already memorized the procedural steps for today’s surgery and I was still a ball of anxiety. As proof: my alarm clock went off at 5:15 AM this morning. Then, my ancient clock radio started blaring pop music, and seconds later, my sister’s fist started pounding against my door.

“HEY! Did you set my alarm?! The sun isn’t even up, you psycho. Let me sleep! I’m an adolescent! My brain is still growing!”

I had no choice. I needed to be sure I didn’t oversleep again so I took every necessary precaution, including waking up my sister. My clothes were already laid out on the floor as if I’d been raptured right out of them the night before. My shoes were untied and ready to go. My toothbrush was pre-loaded. I was outside, shivering at my bus stop fifteen minutes after waking up.

I was going to make a stellar second impression, and I was confident of this right up until I arrived outside of Dr. Russell’s office and found it empty. The hallway was quiet. I grew nervous. I stared down at my Tupperware, wondering if maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all. What if he’s allergic to nuts?

Oh right, I didn’t use any nuts.

I was seconds away from bolting when I heard his deep, unwelcoming voice down the hall.

“Are you waiting for me?”

I glanced up and nearly swallowed my tongue. My gut clenched as I blinked a comical number of times, trying to comprehend how a robot could be so beautiful. He was wearing a navy suit that set off his dark, thick hair. His camel coat was tossed over his forearm. His hard jaw was locked tight as he assessed me suspiciously upon his approach.

I suddenly felt silly and adolescent standing there waiting for him. I cursed my outfit, wishing I’d already changed into my scrubs. My tennis shoes were scuffed. His brown oxfords looked as if they’d been shined mere seconds before. My jacket had been purchased at a thrift store. His looked bespoke.

He kept walking until he was standing right in front of me, and my neck craned back and back some more until that blue gaze knocked the air right out of my lungs. Oof.

I haven’t been around many men like Dr. Russell in my life. Standing close to him in a quiet hallway was thrilling in the same way a death-defying rollercoaster is thrilling…maybe one that hasn’t been inspected in a while, made of rickety wood and squeaky iron bars. I was fairly sure I wouldn’t survive the ride, but something made me want to step right up anyway.

He was studying me, too, and I wish I could have known what was going on in that microprocessor of his.

“Are you waiting for something?” I asked.

“You’re blocking my door. I can’t unlock it.”

Mortification drenched me from head to toe. I wanted to toss the bread at him and sprint down the hall. I forced myself to try to save face as I followed him into his office, but that was a stupid idea. Oh, you’re already feeling nervous? Step into the lion’s den. The first thing I noticed was that the room smelled like him. I hadn’t realized he had a distinct scent until that moment—crisp and woodsy. I had a weird, sudden urge to rub myself across his leather couch in the hopes that it’d linger on me after I left.

Scent aside, his office was a total mess, which I found oddly charming. There were no old food containers lying around, no trash overflowing the bin. Rather, it was messy in the way a well-loved kitchen is messy. Medical devices strewn about. Files stacked on his desk. His bookshelves were stuffed to the brim with medical texts, the overflow piled on the floor nearby. If I had a photographic memory, I would have memorized every spine.

At least I had fun encroaching on his space because the rest of the experience sucked mucho. Let’s just say it wasn’t my best showing (I told him I was trying to bribe him!) and then he made matters worse by turning down said bribe on all fronts. No bread, no friendship, no nothing. Apparently, my banana bread wasn’t as tempting as I’d hoped it’d be. I really thought Dr. Russell would go for it. What sane gluten-eating American turns down homemade baked goods?