It’s probably nothing. But for some reason, I can’t stop glancing at it as I drive toward the office. If I weren’t so late, I’d pull over and read it right now.
But I am late, so the letter will have to wait.
When I get to the office, I grab my purse and immediately jump out. Only to nearly scream when I see myself in the window’s reflection. My straightened hair which I’d pulled into its usual long ponytail extension this morning now has tufts sticking out and there’s ash all over my face!
What the hell? Why didn’t E or A tell me I looked like a hot mess, not the former Princess Missouri the town takes such pride in?
Wiping the soot away as best I can, I set my phone to vibrate, then race into the practice. No waiting patients. Thank goodness. I head directly to Dr. Haim’s office to apologize.
“Cynda, there you are,” the doctor who replaced my father says when I push open his door. “I’ve been trying to get in contact with you all morning.”
“Sorry, Dr. Haim. The twins missed the bus and I had to drive them to school. And I didn’t have my headphones, so I couldn’t call back and tell you I was running late.”
His gray brows crease in a distracted frown and he adjusts his wire-rimmed spectacles over his long nose. “Oh, Cynda, it’s okay. I just wanted to give you some warning before telling you about a very difficult decision I made over the weekend. You see, I received an offer for my practice and after much thought, I decided to sign the deal and take early retirement.”
My stomach drops. “You sold my dad’s practice? But why?”
Dad had left me the house but strangely he hadn’t made any arrangements for the practice, so it had gone to my stepmother. Luckily she had no interest in dealing with the actual sale and had let me handle it.
I’d picked Dr. Haim to take over my dad’s clinic and he’d assured me that he was in it for the long run. He’d agreed to all of my conditions and had even hired me as his nurse to prove how dedicated he was to preserving my father’s legacy.
“I know this must come as a shock,” Dr. Haim says, his dark brown eyes somber. “But it was a very good deal and it will give me the chance to retire much earlier than I originally had planned.”
I shake my head at him. “You’re only fifty-two. Why do you need to retire now? Especially when so many people here depend on you—”
A terrible thought occurs to me, remembering the last doctor who surprised me with an out-of-the-blue retirement announcement. “Please tell me you didn’t sell my dad’s clinic to one of those McMedicine franchises like DBCare. You promised me you’d never do that.”
Dr. Haim holds up his hands defensively. “And I kept that promise! My buyer is a single male doctor, like myself. In fact, let me introduce you to your new boss.”
The door I’d only halfway opened obscures the view of the guest chair in front of Dr. Haim’s. I don’t realize there’s someone there until he extends his hand toward it.
Cursing myself for not fixing my ponytail before I came in, I frantically wipe at the soot on my face. This is not a great first impression for the boss I’m about to meet.
But remembering all my pageant training, I take a deep breath and step forward the rest of the way into Dr. Haim’s office with a bright smile and one hand extended.
Only to stop when I see the man sitting in the chair.
My heart thuds, then free falls to my feet.
Everything stops.
Everything fades away.
Everything but the man sitting in front of me.
It’s been three years but I recognize him immediately. From the slick russet brown hair to the direct steel-grey eyes.
Rhys.
The Fine Prince…
Dr. Prince to anyone who wasn’t an ER nurse in the Raines Jewish Emergency Department and didn’t love 90’s sitcoms.
The last time I saw him had been at his trendy Central West End apartment with its view overlooking Forest Park. He’d been regarding me like a king on his throne as I slunk out the door with my overnight bag.
“You may go home this weekend, but when you return, come straight back to me.”
But I’d never seen him again…until now.
“What…what are you doing here?” I demand lowering my hand. I’m too shocked to be polite.
But Rhys stands up like a proper gentleman. And dear God, he’s even finer than I remembered. His dark brown curls are no longer tousled but slicked back. He has a beard now, but somehow his jaw actually appears sharper than before, his grey eyes even more intelligent.
He’s wearing a suit instead of scrubs and a white coat, but I can clearly tell he’s been hitting the gym since I saw him last, not the carbs. Unlike me. I’ve put on at least fifteen pounds, but he’s lean with muscles that fill out his tailored suit.
He regards me for one cold and stiff moment, before saying, “Hello again, Cynda.”
He also still has that sexy English accent, which makes his greeting sound about a thousand times more polite than mine.
Until he also says, “You’re fired.”
Chapter Two
Three years ago
“Red Alert! The Fine Prince is here. I repeat. THE FINE PRINCE IS HERE!”
The alert from the Emergency Department Nurses’ text stream came through on the Apple Watch Daddy got me a few Christmases ago. And it was promptly followed by rows of eggplant emojis from several of my fellow ER nurses.
I let out a heavy sigh and rolled my eyes. I liked a hot piece of eye candy just as much as the next overworked nurse. But these heifers were acting so thirsty.
“So you don’t think I should use my Princess South Carolina scholarship money to get a degree in accounting?” a hurt voice asked.
Dangit! I’d forgotten I was on a three-way FaceTime call with my best friends Billie and Gina. Cursing that stupid message for distracting me, I turned back to the phone in my hand.
Billie was staring up at me from her screen, looking self-conscious bordering on crushed. And Gina, who as usual, was decked out in a Beyonce-level blonde weave, was shaking her head at me. I could almost hear her silently asking me, “What the hell? You know how sensitive Billie is!”
I grimaced. I had what my mother used to gently call, “ER Nurse qualities.” I could be way too direct and plainspoken on and off the hospital floor. I’d done my best to cover up all that attitude when my mom was alive. But in the two years since she died of cancer, I’d been reverting more and more to my natural state. The gracious beauty queen had faded away along with my mother and the real me, a tell-like-it-is nurse had taken her place.
But Billie and Gina have been my best friends ever since we all competed in the Queen America pageant two years ago. They’d been the only two other Black women in our class that year, and though none of us had won, we’d always said our instant friendship was worth more than any crown.
We tried to talk on FaceTime at least once a month. And since they were both on East Coast time they went out of their way to accommodate my hectic ER Nurse schedule. Yes, I like to tell it like it is, but I’d never mock either of their dreams.
“Sorry, that eye roll wasn’t meant for you,” I assured Billie. “I got distracted by this stupid text that came through on my watch about this hot doc all the nurses are slobbering over. They call him ‘The Fine Prince’, and everybody’s been acting crazy stupid about him ever since he came through for this fellowship.”
“Ooh, tell us more about The Fine Prince!” Billie demanded. “He sounds a lot more interesting than my accounting degree.”
“No, trust me, it isn’t,” I answer with another eye roll. “I already have to put up with the other nurses talking about him all the time. Let’s talk about accounting. Right Gina?”
“Sorry, Cynda, I’m on Billie’s side,” Gina answered, her southern accent honeyed and sweet. “All of us, including Billie, know she’ll make a great whatever she wants to be.”
“Aw, thanks, Gina!” A bright smile lit up Billie�
�s entire face.
It’s a sweet friendship-affirming moment for one whole second, but then Gina says, “Now spill the tea on this hot doc of yours.”
“He’s not mine,” I started to answer.
But Gina blew right through my point. “Plus, I want to live vicariously. If I even look sideways at another man, it’s a huge fight with Tommy.”
I frowned. Gina had only started dating Tommy, a sergeant with the Jonesboro PD a few weeks ago, and he was already telling her she shouldn’t look at other men? “How does that work with you being a stripper?”
There was no judgment from me about Gina’s current career. She was doing what she had to put herself the rest of the way through Emory part-time after not winning the America Queen pageant—unfortunately, her Princess Georgia scholarship money hadn’t been nearly enough to cover the prestigious university’s cost.
But I didn’t see how her fledgling relationship would work if this new guy of hers was too jealous to even let her look at other men.
Gina’s gorgeous face crinkles as she waves a perfectly-manicured hand dismissively. “It’s fine. He knows I’m just working when I’m at Magic Peaches—I mean that’s where he met me. But when I’m with him. He wants me to only be with him and not thinking about any other guys. That’s all.”
In the other FaceTime screen, Billie twisted her lips.
And I said out loud what we were probably both thinking. “That sounds controlling AF!”
“Yeah,” Billie agreed. “Are you sure this guy is a match for you, Gina?”
“C’mon guys, I was just making a little joke,” Gina said with an exasperated shake of her blond mane. “He’s great. He buys me presents and he can be so sweet. It doesn’t matter if sometimes he gets jealous.”
“It doesn’t?” I sucked on my teeth, because, “If a guy tried to catch salt like that with me, I’d be like deuces.”
“Or if he ate off-brand Little Debbie Oatmeal Crème Pies,” Gina replied, throwing me an exasperated look.
Okay, that had actually happened a few months ago. An EMT I was dating tried to offer me one of those foul Mrs. Freshley Oatmeal Crème Cookies the morning after first sex. There was no second sex. “I mean those things are just gross.”
“How about the murse you dumped because he said ER was better than Grey’s Anatomy?”
“Shonda’s show is clearly superior!” I shot back.
“Remember the vegan?” Billie asked, jumping on Gina’s bandwagon.
“That is a very aggressive decision to make in St. Louis,” I answered, my voice whiny and defensive. “And it made it so hard to eat.”
“Then why did you dump that perfectly nice firefighter who ate too much meat?” Gina asked.
“Who only eats at steak houses?” I asked back.
“Ooh! Ooh! Remember the lawyer she ghosted because he didn’t vote for the right judge?” Billie asked Gina.
Gina’s eyes flare comically. “I forgot about that one! Like president or governor, I can understand. Maybe even the mayor. But who stops dating someone because of what judge they voted for in the election?”
“If he’d voted right, a Black woman would have had a chance of making it onto the Missouri Supreme court!” I insisted.
Gina shrugged and shook her head at me like she was trying hard not to laugh. “I’m just saying my standards and your standards are on two different levels and I’m fine with that. Because my level isn’t located in Crazytown. I mean how many guys have you been through in the last year?”
I rolled my eyes. And this time it was definitely aimed at my two friends. “Twelve. I’m not tracking it or anything.”
“Twelve, seriously?” Billie asked, her eyes huge. “That’s a lot.”
“Okay, thank you, math whiz,” I answered. “Yes, you should definitely go to accounting school.”
“Ooh, will The Fine Prince be lucky number thirteen?” Gina asked.
“In what universe is thirteen lucky?” I asked my overly optimistic friend. “And no he won’t. Yeah, he’s stupid hot and has an English accent, but he’s totally stuck up. He barely ever looks at me, even when we’re face to face, talking about a patient. From what I’ve seen, he only flirts with White girls. So even if I wanted to date him—which I wouldn’t, given the aforementioned lack of diversity in his flirt game—he probably wouldn’t be into dating me.”
“He has an English accent?” Billie and Gina ask in unison.
Apparently, that was all they heard.
“And he only likes White girls. Did you not hear that part?”
“Perhaps not, but I did,” a voice said behind me. A voice with an extremely sexy English accent.
I froze, my entire body flooding with shocked embarrassment.
“Oh, no! Is that him?” Billie whispered, covering her face with both hands. “Did he hear everything you just said?”
“Hold the phone up so that we can see if he deserves that nickname,” Gina demanded, her voice also hushed.
“I’m going to have to call you back,” I answered before killing the FaceTime call.
Remembering all my pageant training, I crooked of my head and pasted on a dazzling smile before turning around. “Hey, Dr. Prince. How are you?”
“I’ve been better,” he answered, not returning my smile. His expression was serious and tight as he lifted his arm. “I came upon this ancient relic while checking on Dr. Rhajeen’s patient in bed two. It requires translation.”
I almost laughed when he held up a clipboard with a paper chart. But I tamped down amusement to inform him, “I can’t read Dr. Rhajeen’s handwriting either.”
“Yet, you let him chart on paper, which he’s apparently saved from last decade.”
I shrugged, some of my embarrassment at being caught talking about him fading away. Maybe he’d only heard that last line and had no clue I was talking about him. “Not my fault he refuses to use the electronic system.”
“Many of the other RNs make separate electronic charts for him in order to make the lives of the doctors who have the shift after him easier.”
I raised my eyebrows and pulled back my neck to say, “No, they do that to make your life easier. Your life only.”
He frowned down at the charts. “That can’t be right.”
I shrugged. “Don’t believe me, ask the other docs on your shift.”
“I will,” he answered. “But perhaps it would behoove you to show us the same kindness as the other nurses.”
“And perhaps it would behoove you to tell the chief it’s time to put Dr. Rhajeen out to pasture as opposed to expecting us nurses to cover his ass,” I shot back.
His sharp jaw worked in a way that told me he was gritting his teeth. Then he said, “Fine, I’ll take that under consideration. In the meanwhile, would you be so kind as to help me with this chart.”
Back when my mom was still alive I would have at least tried to act like I was a somewhat gracious person. But now…
“Man, I just got off my shift and this is the first chance I’ve had to eat all day,” I answered. I walked over to the refrigerator to retrieve the Chinese food I brought for lunch. “So if you want me to look at that chart for you, you’ll need to wait. Or I’m sure any of the nurses currently on shift would be happy to help you translate. They’re such huge fans.”
He stared at me for a tense, irritated beat. Then he asked, “Are you always this prickly? No wonder you’ve had twelve relationships go wrong in as many months.”
So he was listening in! I almost let him see me sweat. But acting bothered wasn’t a thing I like to do. Especially in front of men who were so fine nurses acted a fool whenever he signed on for his shift.
“Are you always this entitled?” I plopped the carton in the microwave, then punched the minute button three times to start it up. “And how long were you listening in on my conversation anyway?”
“Long enough,” he answered. He picked at a corner of the paper chart. “It sounds like your stripper friend has troubl
e brewing with that new boyfriend of hers.”
“Right?!” I asked, turning away from the microwave to face him. “He’s sketchy as a big dog, but Gina won’t listen to me.”
Dr. Prince set the charts aside on the breakroom table. “I’ve a sister like that. She’s always falling for suspect men. She went through a string of artists who never managed to produce enough work for a show. And now she’s going out with an aspiring yoga guru.”
Okay, so I guess The Fine Prince and me are chatting now. “Aspiring, huh? I didn’t know that’s something you aimed for. Yoga teacher, I get. Maybe even a meditation master. But who’s like ‘you know what I’m fixing to do? Become a yoga guru?’”
His lips twitched slightly. “Do you think he’s already written the script for the Netflix docuseries about his inevitable rise and fall under a combination of sexual harassment charges and unpaid back taxes?”
“He most definitely has!” I let out a surprised laugh. This guy was funny in a droll sort of way.
And hot I couldn’t help but notice. He had that smooth I just woke up looking like I could walk onto a Shonda Rhimes set vibe on lock. And when he smiled down at me, something weird happened in my chest. I don’t know what it was, but it made it impossible for me not to smile back up at him. For real this time. No Princess Missouri.
No wonder nurses of all colors spent so much time making sure his charts were all the way correct. The Fine Prince indeed.
As if reading my mind, he asked, “Do they truly call me that. The Fine Prince?”
“They sure do,” I answered, pulling my carton out of the microwave. “You want in on this?”
Yes, I’m prickly, but the manners my mother instilled in me remained. Even after she was gone.
Remembering my last sight of her, a wave of sadness passed over me. She’d been surrounded by loved ones, her husband, her daughter, and a few of her friends from the Lutheran church we attended. But she had looked so small in that hospital bed.
“You want me to call your sister?” my father had asked her as she worked hard to breathe through her nasal cannula oxygen tube. “Let her talk to you one last time?”
Cynda and the City Doctor: 50 Loving States, Missouri (QUARANTALES Book 1) Page 2
