Bad Boy Next Door (A Romantic Suspense)(6)

I hate that painting, too. I hate the constant stink of antiseptic and that weird burning odor that accompanies the sound of the drill in the back rooms. It’s the smell of burning teeth. A very nasty smell, trust me.

Right now there’s a woman checking her kid in for an appointment standing in front of the counter, watching me type in her insurance info. The kid stands on his tiptoes to peer over the top and watches me with wild, frightened eyes. Going by his lack of records, this might be his first checkup. Welcome to the Pit of Despair, kid.

“Mom, can I have one?” he says, reaching for the candy dish.

“When you’re done, hon.”

I hand the card back with the clipboard of first-time forms and lean back in my chair, drawing in a long breath as I eye the clock. Four thirty is the last appointment today, and it’s 3:15. The sooner I can get out of here, the better. I don’t have a class tonight, so this is one of those rare evenings where I can actually rest, maybe get a few hours of sleep. Very soon I will be finishing my degree and I can finally quit this awful job, and get away from Burt.

Here he comes now.

Burt Simonson, DDS, is what a person who hates dentists pictures when you say dentist. Tall and lean with graying hair and oversized eyeglasses, he struts around the office like the king of his own little domain, and as soon as he sees me he openly rakes his eyes over my body.

It didn’t hit me until I started working here that the employees all have something in common. The dental assistants, the other receptionist, we’re all women and we’re all young. At thirty-four I’m the oldest. Laura, the other receptionist, is only nineteen.

He likes redheads, too. There’s me, Cassie the hygienist, and one of the assistants, though hers comes out of a bottle.

The implications of the pattern didn’t occur to me until I’d been working here six weeks and he started to get comfortable around me, and feel familiar enough to take an occasional look down the V-neck of my scrubs. I started wearing a t-shirt under them after that.

I slide the window in front of me closed, muffling whatever he’s going to say from the patients seated outside.

“There’s my favorite office milf,” he says, leaning against the counter next to me.

I flinch.

I know what that stands for. Every time he calls me that I want to punch him in the balls, but I need this job. I don’t even let myself scowl.

“Something I can help you with?” I say coolly.

“Yeah. I just got my new Benz. I thought maybe you could help me christen her.”

“You want me to smash a bottle on the trunk?”

He laughs.

I’d rather smash the bottle on his head.

“Nah, just let me give you a ride home.”

“No, thanks. I’ll take the bus.”

“Pretty young thing like you shouldn’t be riding the bus alone at night.”

First of all, it’s not night, I’m leaving at five o’clock. On the dot.

Second of all, I’m not that young anymore.

I suppose I am where he’s concerned. Burt is old enough to be my father. Hell, he could be the other receptionist’s grandfather, and he hits on her like this, too.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve never had any trouble.”

It’s not like we live in the kind of place where I need to worry about a bus ride. Castlebrook might be the safest small town on the planet. Mostly. I don’t even live in town, anyway.

It doesn’t matter. I could live in a demilitarized zone and I wouldn’t take a ride from this creep. I catch myself unconsciously plucking at the V-neck of my scrubs and stop myself, and turn to my computer. Hopefully if I look busy he’ll leave me alone and go, say, attend to one of his patients. You know, actually do his job.

“You’ve got a visitor.” He nods at the window before he rises to leave.

Sighing, I turn to slide the window open and take care of the next patient.

As the end of the day approaches, the appointments slow down and the waiting room empties out. I hop up, turn the lock on the front door so it can only be pushed open from the inside, and return to my desk to play Candy Crush until quittin’ time.

After the last patient leaves I gather up my tote bag, throw the strap over my shoulder, and head out.

I hear laughter in the back hallway and spot Burt chasing Stacy the hygienist out of one of the exam rooms, grabbing her ass. I turn away with a snap, push through the front door, and start walking for the bus stop.

It would be eighty-five f*cking degrees outside. It’s almost October but the heat hasn’t broken yet. Beads of sweat slide on my face and neck and chest and itch between my shoulder blades by the time I get to the bench, and I have to tug the clingy, itchy fabric of my scrubs away from my skin to try to get some air.

The humidity makes it a futile gesture.

When Burt rolls up, it makes me wish I was wearing a turtleneck. He’s got Laura the jailbait receptionist sitting in the front seat of his new Benz. I can see he splurged. It’s one of those ones with the hardtop convertible roof.

“Want a ride?” he shouts.

“It’s a two seater?”

He nods at Laura. “Sit on her lap!”

“No, thanks,” I say in a voice that could freeze salt water.

I mean to say, “Fuck off and die, you disgusting pig,” but he signs my paychecks and this was the first and only job I could find while I work on my degree.