The Best Medicine: A Standalone Romantic Comedy

by Kimberly Fox

  “You don’t like any superheroes?” I ask, staring at her in disbelief. Who the hell doesn’t like superheroes?

  “None,” she says. Her silky dark blonde hair bounces as she shakes her head. “They’re all barbaric.”

  “Barbaric?” I ask with a laugh. “What about the X-Men?”

  “The X-Men are the worst ones!”

  I lean forward, staring at her with curious eyes. “Please explain how the Xavier School for Gifted Children is barbaric.”

  “Well, first of all, these poor children sign up for a school thinking they’re finally with other kids who are like them. And then on their first day, they find out that they have to fight. And not only do these fourteen and fifteen-year-olds have to fight, but they have to fight the most dangerous and powerful psychopaths on the planet in a team of vigilantes, which may or may not be legal. So, now these teenagers are illegally crossing international borders, accidentally killing innocent civilians, getting shot, sliced, and electrocuted, and the poor kids are only there because they signed up to learn algebra in a racism-free environment. So, who are the bad guys in this? Because it sounds like them.”

  “Yeah, but Wolverine is so cool.”

  She reaches over and pops my Wolverine balloon with the needle in her hand.

  “Hey!” I say with a laugh. “Not cool.”

  She frowns at the Captain America balloon that floats over, taking its place.

  “Even you can’t have a problem with Captain America.”

  She shakes her head. “Yeah, let’s teach our kids to use performance-enhancing drugs.” She reaches over and pops that balloon too.

  “Iron Man?” I ask.

  “Womanizer. Weapons manufacturer.” With a flick of her wrist, Tony Stark vanishes with a pop.

  “Okay, okay,” I say, holding my hands up. I was initially annoyed by the balloons, but at least they’re something to look at in this boring room. I’ve grown attached to them.

  Thankfully, she puts the needle away. Who knew that the biggest threat to superheroes was a pretty little hybrid Portuguese/American girl with a syringe?

  “So, what are you into, Madison?” I ask as she disposes the needle in the little red container attached to the wall. She has her head turned from me, so I stare at her ass, wishing she had forgotten that big baggy lab coat at home.

  “I’m into making sure that my patients don’t die,” she says with a tightness in her voice. “Although in your case, I might make an exception.”

  I laugh as she turns, hoping that she’s joking. It’s been a while since I dated, but it’s also been a while since I met a girl like Dr. Mendes. She’s got it all. Sexy. Intelligent. Quick-witted. Not to mention that hot little body of hers that I can’t stop thinking about. If that wasn’t enough, she’s got a face so gorgeous that I’m contemplating tossing myself out the four-story window just so I can stay here a little longer to stare at it.

  She’s exactly what I’m looking for.

  Just what the doctor ordered.

  “I’m going to need you to turn around and try to arch your back,” she says, blinking at me with those lush, dark lashes of hers.

  “I was about to say the same thing,” I say with a grin.

  She pulls out her pen and holds it up to my Hulk balloon. “One more perverted comment and the green guy gets it.”

  “Okay,” I say with a laugh as I struggle to turn onto my side. “I knew you were pure evil.”

  “You haven’t seen anything yet,” she answers with a grin.

  She lets out some hmm’s and ha’s as she gently touches my back with her fingertips. “Do you have any sensation returning in your feet?”

  “Not yet,” I say as I stare at the wall. “When will I be able to walk? I have to start training for the next ride in four months.”

  “You won’t be training anytime soon,” she says. I look back over my shoulder and see her cute little forehead all scrunched up. She looks adorable when she’s concentrating. “And it will be a while before you can walk. The swelling isn’t going down as fast as I’d hoped it would. I’m going to send you for an MRI.”

  Her worried face has me worried. I always look at the positive side of things, and I didn’t even consider that I might not be back to one hundred percent at the end of this. I’ve had dozens and dozens of broken bones, torn ligaments, cuts, and scrapes, and I’ve always healed stronger than ever.

  But this isn’t a broken arm. This is my spine.

  I swallow hard before asking the question that I don’t want to ask. “Is there a chance that I’m not going to walk again?”

  My heart is pounding as her beautiful lips tighten into a straight line. “That’s a possibility,” she says with a softness in her voice. “But a small one. Luckily for you, you have the best doctor in Seattle. I’ll do everything I can to get you fixed up so you can get back on that bike and break your head next time.”

  I laugh, feeling better already.

  “But it might take longer than you think,” she says, sitting down on the side of my bed. Her perfume hits my nose and I’m sure it gets my cock hard, even though I can’t feel it. I’d ask my hot doctor to check it, but she’d probably just send in the guy with the hairy knuckles again.

  “You should set goals for yourself to stay motivated,” she says, “and then have little celebrations when you meet them. Like when you get the feeling back in your feet, maybe you can buy yourself a Superman coloring book or something.”

  She’s mocking me. I love it.

  “How about when I walk again, you go on a date with me?”

  She snorts out a cute little laugh as her cheeks turn red. I think I have her just where I want her when she stands up, her face serious again. “I like to keep my personal life out of the hospital. It’s a personal rule that I don’t get too close to my patients.”

  That’s too bad, because I would love to get nice and close to her.

  “Rules were meant to be broken,” I say, flashing her a sexy grin. “Just one date. On the day I can walk across this room.”

  She shakes her head as she scribbles something onto her notepad.

  “The only date I can give you,” she says with a grin. “Is with an MRI.”

  My eyes never leave her body as she walks out the door. If she thinks that’s the end of it, she’s got a surprise coming. I’m a motocross guy. I’ve crashed and burned more times than I can remember.

  Nothing can stop me.

  I treat my female conquests like I treat my stunts—I never stop trying until I nail them.

  Chapter 5

  Madison

  “You should totally fuck him,” Anabelle says when I show her the photo of Shane on my phone. Yeah, like I haven’t thought of that a million times over the past twenty-four hours.

  Truth is, I can’t stop thinking about it. Every time I close my eyes, I picture his beautiful body lying in that bed and his hard cock standing straight up in my hands. I can still feel his thick shaft in my palm, and it’s making me start to hyperventilate.

  Mr. Sparkles didn’t know what hit him when I got home. He was used so much that he wasn’t very sparkly after.

  “I’ll fuck him if you don’t,” Anabelle says as she plops a piece of sushi into her mouth. I squeeze the chopsticks in my hand so hard that one of them snaps.

  Her eyes widen as large as a Futomaki roll as she stares at the broken stick that I casually place on the table. She laughs. “I’m guessing you want to fuck him.”

  “Keep your voice down,” I whisper as my cheeks go as red as the fish eggs on my plate. I quickly look around the sushi restaurant, but no one seems to have heard. “I don’t,” I lie. “I definitely don’t.”

  She just stares at me, trying not to laugh.

  “He’s such a cocky prick,” I say, feeling my body tense up with heat like it always does when I think of him. “Everything he says is so sexual, and he’s always hitting on me.”

  “So those are the positives,” Anabelle says with a grin.
“What are the negatives?”

  “Those were the negatives,” I say, the frustration clear in my voice. “I guess you have to experience him to get the full effect of his arrogance.”

  “I’d love to experience him,” she says with a grin.

  Snap. There goes my other chopstick.

  “Relax, She-Hulk,” she says with a laugh. “He’s all yours.”

  I shake my head as I pick up a roll with my fingers and dunk it into my soy sauce. “Even if I was interested…” I say, totally pretending like I’m not.

  “Are interested,” Anabelle corrects.

  She knows me too well. We’ve been best friends since we shared a dorm in college, and she can tell when I’m lying.

  “Even if I was interested,” I repeat with a roll of my eyes, “which I’m not, he’s a patient. I can’t cross that line.”

  She sighs as she stares at me from across the table. “You and your little rule,” she says with a shake of her head. “You can’t shut down every guy you meet in there over one bad experience. You’re allowed to have some fun. It’s not going to turn out like Gavin.”

  “Anabelle,” I warn as heat flushes through me. She should know better than to bring that up.

  “Gavin was a jerk,” she says, not knowing when to quit. “You have to let that go.”

  I grit my teeth as I lean back in my chair and look at the exit. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You never want to talk about it,” Anabelle says. “That’s the problem.”

  “Anabelle!” a voice that makes my skin crawl says from behind me. “Fancy meeting you here!”

  Anabelle’s face drops as she looks over my head. “Yeah,” she says with heated eyes. “What a coincidence.”

  I gulp as my boss walks over to the side of our table. He’s wearing his good corduroy pants with a spiffy new clip-on tie, and the thin strands of his hair are perfectly parallel in his comb-over, which tells me that this is no coincidence.

  “Hello, Madison,” he says, smiling widely at me. He turns to my horrified friend and bows. “Good afternoon, Anabelle. You look beautiful today as always.”

  She looks like she just opened up a long-lost Tupperware from the back of her fridge and saw what was growing inside.

  I shrug when she gives me a look that asks, ‘what the fuck is he doing here?’

  I don’t know the answer, so she asks him. “What are you doing here, Mitchell?”

  He flashes his yellow teeth as he smiles at her. “I was just in the area and was in the mood for some sushi. I think this is fate.”

  “I think this is stalking,” she answers. “You hate sushi. That’s specifically why we came to this restaurant. So we wouldn’t see you.”

  He takes a deep breath and nods. “A lot has changed about me since we took a pause.”

  “We broke up,” she corrects. Harshly.

  “Every couple has their challenges,” he answers, looking at her lovingly. “Their mountains to climb.”

  Anabelle drops her chopsticks on the table and glares up at him. “Mount Everest is between us,” she says, locking her heated eyes on him. “And you’re barefoot. Got that?”

  His eyes light up as he nods. “And I’m ready to take each and every step to get to you.”

  My best friend drops her head forward as he turns to the next table and asks if he can take their empty chair.

  Anabelle leans over the table, looking furious. “What is he doing here? Did you invite him?”

  “No,” I whisper back. “Did you post this on Facebook?” She’s always posting where she is on Facebook. As if anybody cares.

  “Shit,” she says as he turns back with a chair in his hands.

  Well, one person cares.

  “I don’t remember inviting you to sit down,” she says as he slides his corduroys onto the chair.

  “I miss you,” he says, placing his elbows on the table and cupping his cheeks in his hands as he gazes at her. “I want to hear everything that happened to you since our last date.”

  “Well, first,” Anabelle says, leaning away from him. “I took the flowers you sent and put them through my paper shredder. Then I took the huge teddy bear you sent and threw him straight into the dumpster.”

  “Teddy?” Mitchell whispers with a look of dread on his face.

  “And then I took care of the other three dozen roses that came. Garbage disposal. Fireplace. Slap Chop. So that’s what I’ve been doing.”

  “Did you get the Lady Gaga singing telegram I sent?” he asks with wide eyes. “Wasn’t she delightful?”

  “Do I have to get a restraining order?” Anabelle asks with a serious face.

  “Against the Lady Gaga impersonator?” he asks as he takes a sushi roll off her plate. He gags as he places it in his mouth, looking like he’s going to spit it all over us as he struggles to chew it. “I love this place,” he says, turning green.

  Anabelle tosses her napkin onto her plate and pushes her chair back. “I’ve lost my appetite,” she says as she stands up. She looks down at my boss with fire in her eyes. “I’m going to the ladies’ room, and when I get back you better be gone. Got it?”

  “Should I order you a dessert?” he asks.

  She huffs out an angry breath and storms off, leaving Mitchell looking around in confusion. For a doctor, he’s not that smart.

  The gentle smiles and sweet words are gone the second that Anabelle is. He whips his head to me and glares. “Did you talk to her?” he snaps.

  I cringe as I lean back from him. “I just don’t think she’s interested,” I say, wishing that I had another friend to set him up with, preferably one who found comb-overs irresistible.

  His eyes narrow on me. “You’re taking a long time diagnosing Mr. Thatcher,” he says in a threatening tone. “And Mr. Winters… he should be walking by now.”

  My shoulders curl forward over my weighted chest. “What are you saying?” I ask in a shaky voice.

  “I think you know what I’m saying,” he says, locking eyes on me.

  I know exactly what he’s saying. If I don’t get Anabelle to give him another chance, my career at Cherry Valley Hospital is as good as deceased.

  “Dr. Clark,” I say in a pleading voice. “I’m afraid she’s not interested. Please don’t take it out on my professional career.”

  “Your job is to heal,” he says as he stands up. “Prove to me that you can heal our relationship, and you can keep your job.”

  Heal his relationship? Is he fucking crazy?

  I’m about to ask him to clarify when he grabs Anabelle’s chopsticks off the table, smells the tips, and then stuffs them into his bag. “I’m counting on you, Madison,” he says. “I’m not a man you want to let down.”

  He clutches his bag to his side and rushes out of the restaurant before Anabelle gets back.

  I stare at his empty chair in disbelief as my sushi rolls start having a party in my stomach. I’m starting to get nauseous when I see my phone lying on the table.

  I grab it and turn it on, smiling when I see Shane’s picture pop up where I left it. I instantly feel better as I scroll through the photos of him on his bike, him on a podium holding a large gold cup, him with a bunch of girls in bikinis.

  Suddenly, I’m feeling sick again.

  I open up my YouTube app and type in his name with excited fingers. There are a ton of videos of him, and I want to watch every single one.

  I click on one with the title of Preston Moto Cup and watch in wonder as he drives his dirt bike around the track. My heart starts pounding as I admire his skill. He has perfect control of the powerful machine, yanking the handlebars to the side with his thick muscular arms. My breath quickens as I watch him fly up a ramp and sail through the air, twisting around his bike with the grace of an eagle.

  “Wow,” I mutter, feeling it getting hotter than wasabi in here. He lands the bike with ease, and I swallow hard. It’s so sexy to see him controlling that vicious bike with his strong hands, expertly maneuvering i
t like a painter sliding a paintbrush across a canvas.

  Motocross is his art, and he looks like an artist out there as he takes another jump. A warm shiver flows through me as he stands on his bike while it rockets through the air. The arena is going crazy cheering him on, and I can’t help but join in with the thoughts in my head.

  God, he’s sexy.

  He lands the jump with perfect technique, and I curse when the video ends abruptly.

  “Shit,” I mutter as I scroll to find another one.

  Shane Winters. I thought he was sexy before, but seeing him like that is bringing him to a whole other level.

  I might just have to break my little rule.

  Maybe Anabelle is right. Maybe it won’t be like Gavin. He was the reason I came here in the first place. He was the reason I had to quit my job and move across the country from New York to Seattle.

  I don’t want to go through that again.

  I can’t go through that again.

  My eyes widen as I click on another video, and Shane’s dirt bike races across my iPhone screen. My heart starts racing again.

  His sexy words replay in my head.

  Rules were meant to be broken.

  Chapter 6

  Madison

  “So, the tests came back,” I say to Mr. Thatcher as I scan his file. My shoulders drop, and I let out a defeated breath of air. “Inconclusive.”

  He sighs as he looks down at his hands. He looks thinner than when he first came in, and his skin looks like it’s got a new tint of yellowish-brown to it. He seems to be getting worse. I’ve done every test I can think of, but I still can’t diagnose him.

  He came in last week complaining of stomach pains, joint pain, and severe fatigue. I ran some tests and found a low red blood count, kidney dysfunction, high blood pressure, and he could barely stand under his own strength. I’ve done everything I can think of and more to diagnose him, but I’m drawing a blank.

  I even spent most of my day off yesterday researching rare conditions, but didn’t find anything to match his symptoms.