Doctor Desirable: A Hero Club Novel

by Anjelica Grace

  “Hold tight, I’ll be right back.”

  She came. It’s more than I deserve, but I’m going to make the best of however many minutes I get with her right now. I walk up to the counter and order our pizza, asking for two cups to go so we can take them back to the hospital with us.

  “Your girlfriend is beautiful,” the older woman behind the counter states easily. “You both work at the hospital?”

  “Yes, ma’am, we do.” I pull out my wallet and she shakes her head then pats my hand. “This one is on us as a thank-you to you both. We appreciate you all over there. My Denny got real sick not long ago, and if it weren’t for men and women like you two, he wouldn’t be back there making pizzas today.”

  She must be in her sixties or seventies at this point, her hair is silver and her skin shows signs of age and a life well lived. “Thank you, ma’am. And, I have to agree; she is beautiful. Even if she is stubborn and a pain in the butt sometimes.”

  She looks at me like she knows something I don’t, then leans over the counter and whispers, “It’s the ones who challenge you every step as a person and a lover who are worth a life lived together. My Denny still gets on my last nerve, but I wouldn’t have him any other way. And the make-up sex is always worth it.”

  My laugh is immediate and loud, and I know Dee is watching us now. “I’ll have to keep that in mind. Things are still new between us, but I hope I get to find out exactly what you mean one day.”

  She winks at me and says as quietly as she can, “If the way she’s looking at you is any indication, young man, you’ll find out.”

  ****

  Dee

  He puts his wallet in his back pocket and drops some cash in the tip jar next to the register, and she beams at him again. This is the side of him I got glimpses of on Saturday. He’s charming and sweet, and he has this woman smiling from ear to ear with very little effort, it seems. She is completely enthralled by whatever it is he’s saying, so much so she almost misses her husband—if I had to guess—poking his head out to ask her a question.

  Nate turns back to the table with two drink cups in his hand when she stops him. I can hear every word this time. “Nate,” she says, clearly they introduced themselves, “don’t forget what I said. It’ll be worth it. Every last bit of it will.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Conner. I’ll remember, I promise.” The grin she gives him is wide and full, and it grows even happier when she turns to face and talk to her husband.

  “What was all that about?” Curiosity is getting the best of me here, but that was a pretty public display of humor and discussion.

  “Mrs. Conner was just giving me some sage advice. What would you like to drink?”

  “Hmmm. Do I want caffeine, or do I want pure deliciousness?”

  “Aren’t they the same?”

  He’s a silly man. Caffeine is a necessity. But some soda combinations are just heavenly and amazing. “Not even close. So what do I want?”

  “Deliciousness. You can get shitty hospital coffee for more caffeine later.”

  With the decision made for me, I get out of my seat and walk past him. “Watch and learn, Dr. Alexander.”

  I can feel him on my heels and know he will think I’m an oddball for this, but I don’t care. It’s one of my favorite combinations to drink.

  “Nate. I asked you out as Nate, not Dr. Alexander.”

  The point comes across efficiently when he says that, and it makes me smile. “Well then, Nate, watch and learn. This is the single best way to drink at a restaurant that doesn’t include alcohol.”

  I glance at the drink selections, relieved to see my two favorites are both an option, then I fill my cup with about one third ice, leaving plenty of room for goodness but guaranteeing it stays cold for a while. “You see, you split the cup into fourths, layering root beer and then cream soda. Alternating every fourth of the cup. I know that sounds insane. Why not pick one or the other, right? But I’m telling you, it is so much better than anything else by itself.”

  He steps up beside me and starts to fill his cup with ice, making a face as he watches me take a sip from mine. “You are weird. Incredibly weird. That just sounds disgusting.”

  I gasp in mock horror. “Blasphemy! You have to try this before you can judge it.” Without giving it any serious thought, I hold my cup up to his lips and tip it as he carefully tips his head back to take a sip and humor me.

  “Hmmm.” He swishes the liquid mixture back and forth a little then makes a show of swallowing, one that allows me to imagine exactly where the sodas are sliding down his throat as his Adam’s apple bobs. “Not bad. Dr. Pepper is better, but I’ll give it an eight out of ten.”

  “You’re insane. This is the best there is. But I will concede Dr. Pepper is good, too.” I smile at him and bring the drink back to my own lips, taking a sip. “Mmmm.”

  “Christ,” he murmurs and closes his eyes. “I’m not sure how I’m going to pull this off.”

  I don’t know what he means, but I won’t hold my breath waiting for him to tell me. He’s already made it more than clear he doesn’t trust me, or anyone, easily. “Should I even bother asking what you’re talking about? Or is it like why we are here, something you’ll get around to eventually?”

  “The answer is yes, to both.” He leads me back over to our table and then pulls a number from his pocket to set on the ledge denoting our order. “You should ask, I think I always want you to ask. And it is like why we’re here, because it is why we’re here.”

  Is he speaking in riddles now, having a stroke perhaps? Because he is honestly not making any sense to me, but he must read the confusion on my face because he takes a drink of his soda and then he smiles and continues, “The sound you made drinking your weird drink was a sound that could and did very easily get to me. Which is a problem because for some odd reason, I want to get to know you. Actually get to know you, Dee. Not just your body. Not just for a night. I want to be your friend. I want to see what the fuck this—connection—I’m not even sure what to call it, is.”

  “So that’s why you asked me to lunch? What’s changed since Saturday night?” I pick up the silverware rolled in a paper napkin and start to fidget with it, picking at the edge of the napkin nervously.

  “You changed me since Saturday. You and a call with my brother. Everything you said got me thinking. I like how you challenge me and don’t back down. It’s refreshing and irritating. But nobody has ever done that. Nobody has called me out on my shit before.”

  “I’ll call anyone on their shit.” It’s straightforward and true. He isn’t special because I call him on his shit, but if I’m being honest, he’s special for other reasons. Even if he is an asshole half the time.

  “I know you will. But very few people dare to call me on mine. And even fewer care to get to know me enough to call me out on a personal level. The only ones who do it are my brothers.”

  “You have multiple brothers?” This is news to me. Contrary to what he thinks, I’m not such a superfan of Xavier I would know his whole bio.

  “Two of them. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

  I shrug a shoulder. “I pay attention to standings and good players; I don’t stalk them. I have zero interest in using you to get to him. Besides, he’s probably a serial dater and has a new person in bed with him every city they travel to. I get it, and more power to him, but that’s not my type.”

  His mouth falls slightly slack and he blinks. “You truly don’t give a shit about my brother?”

  “About his fame? No. About whether he is a good man, yeah. But given his relationship with Micah, I’d be willing to bet he’s a pretty decent dude.”

  “He’s a great man…” He looks irritated I’d say that about his brother, but I call it as I see it. I’m not meaning it in a derogatory way. I just genuinely have never cared beyond standings, statistics, and community involvement.

  “That’s awesome. I’m not being a bitch, Nate. You really need to quit jumping on the defensive and
untrusting track. We can never be anything if you don’t. I’m not here with you for your brother the hockey player. Or any of your other brothers. I didn’t even know they exist. I’m here because, even though you’re an asshole the majority of the time, there’s something about you—about who I have seen when you have your guard down—I can’t forget or shake.”

  Mrs. Conner brings our pizza over and sets it down between us on the table with a to-go box already ready. “I know you will have to leave to get back to your shift, now you can just load up and go.” She smiles at me, pats Nate’s hand, then walks away.

  “I’m trying, Dee. Trust doesn’t come easily. And I’m asking you to please give me a chance, bear with me. I do want you to ask questions. Ask why I’m saying something or doing something. Let me prove to you I’m trying. Let me work on it.” On the outside, it nearly sounds like he’s demanding a chance. I would probably get up and walk away right now because of it, if there weren’t a hint of desperation underlying his every word, and if his eyes weren’t begging mine to trust him.

  If I can’t trust him, it makes me a hypocrite. “I’m here, Nate. And I want to give you a chance. I want you to be a friend at least.”

  “And that is the true answer to your question about what I meant when I said I couldn’t pull this off.”

  I tilt my head as I take a bite of my pizza, stifling a moan and closing my eyes instead as the cheese, pepperoni, and peppers melt together over my taste buds. This may be the best pizza I’ve ever had. He goes silent after my bite, and once I swallow, I open my eyes and find him staring at me. It’s not a look of anger or desperation, he doesn’t seem confused, he seems like he wants to devour me while I do the same to the pizza. “What?”

  “Watching you eat that, hearing those noises. I want to be a hell of a lot more than your friend, Dee. I’m not sure I will be able to just be friends.”

  “Oh.” I wipe the grease from my lips and smirk at him. “I never said we could only be friends…” I don’t think I could contain myself if that were the only thing we could be. The man is sex on legs. I haven’t had a night since I saw him in that wet shirt, every bit of fabric clinging to his perfectly defined body, where I haven’t dreamed about him, imagined being able to touch, taste, appreciate every solid, wet inch.

  “You will be the death of the man I am, Cassidee Parker. I know you will.” He takes a bite of his pizza and swallows it with a drink of Dr. Pepper. Just like he didn’t hide the fact he was watching me, I don’t hide my watching him either. I refuse to. I want to remember every bit of this conversation, from his piercing green eyes with blue circling the outer edge of his irises to his well-fitted scrubs and perfectly mussed and done light brown hair. When he leans back in his chair, the sun makes his hair look almost dirty blond compared to its darker appearance in the shade. After what I need to tell him, he may be out. And I want to appreciate this lunch, the flirting and banter, while I can and save it to cherish forever. He has made me feel emotions on every level more extremely in the past week than I have ever felt.

  “I won’t just sleep with you with absolutely no strings attached, Nate. I want more than a quick fuck because you need to get off. And we don’t jump into bed right away. You clearly have trust issues, and I’ve been burned in the past by men.”

  “We start as friends then. Let me show you I can be a trusting, good man. But I need you to have patience and understand when I fuck up. Because I can promise you, I will fuck up. It’s been a long damn time since I’ve let anyone in. I don’t know how to do it. And I want to try with you. But it won’t be easy for me.” What he’s saying is fair, and I could overthink this for the next decade, weighing every single option, the pros and cons. Or I can leap.

  Taking another leap of faith right now sounds pretty amazing. After all, my last leap landed me here in Rhode Island, at this pizza place, with him. Annoying, frustrating, bipolar, hot and cold, for all he is that drives me up a wall, I’ve seen the soft, caring, light, fun side I want to get to know more. It’s that side of him, paired with his obviously amazing looks, that makes him Dr. Desirable.

  “I’ll give you a chance. And I’ll do what I can to be patient. But, Nate?”

  “Yeah?” He puts his napkin down on the table and leans in, waiting for whatever I have to say very cutely with his hands clasped and attention fully on me.

  “You don’t get to be an asshole to me at work. I’ll keep us a secret. I’ll respect your privacy. But you can’t be an asshole just to be one. Tone it down.”

  “For you, I will do my best.”

  It’s all I can ask of him. He can’t just change who he is and has been, and he obviously can’t treat me differently. I wouldn’t want him to. I wouldn’t ask him to. Just like me giving him a chance is all he can ask of me.

  I know I need to get back to the hospital and back to patients, but I don’t think Dr. Alexander or this lunch are going to be leaving my mind anytime soon. Even with our understanding, I have a lot to think about, consider, and prepare myself for. If he is going to be my friend, if he is going to be more, I’m going to need to be ready for any sort of attitude, behavior, we may experience. After all, we’ve already established there will be highs and lows.

  Fifteen

  Nate

  Lunch went better than I thought it would with Dee today. I really didn’t even think she would show up. When she walked through the door, then agreed to give me a chance to be her friend, I could have done a little jig right there in the middle of the pizza shop. Not that I do jigs, or have rhythm. But knowing I can finally figure out what it is about this woman I can’t get out of my mind might just make me a dancer.

  My brother was right when he told me to just be honest and lay it all out there. Who knew the perpetually single, refuse to commit fucker actually had a clue about women? Where I don’t trust, he just sees no reason to settle down. He likes to hit it, quit it, and move on to the next one. How he doesn’t have kids running around with different women at this point in his life is beyond me. I guess it’s just a testament to how religiously safe he is with rubbers.

  But I know now his never having a girlfriend has nothing to do with an inability to understand women. Or to trust. He really just doesn’t want to go there. It’s shocking.

  I suppose I’ll have to start giving him more credit. Because everything he recommended worked. I put myself out there, even if it wasn’t baring my whole soul to her, and she was receptive and even agreed to be my friend.

  I use friend loosely, because I will sleep with her. It’s inevitable. She’s fuel to the raging inferno inside me, roaring and burning to astronomical heights anytime I’m in her presence. I know the only way to douse those flames will be to smother them through actions and experiences together.

  I won’t rush it though. For one, I don’t fully trust her. For another, Dee isn’t the type of woman who will let me use her and walk away. And finally, I can’t risk my career, or even hers, by not being smart and methodical here. She could very easily get pissed off and turn me in to HR or sabotage my patients and negatively affect my career. I can’t take the chance. She says she won’t share our secret. She wants to keep things professional. Experience has taught me not everyone honors their word.

  Fool me once, shame on you.

  Fool me twice, shame on me.

  I was fooled once already; I won’t let it happen again.

  Which is exactly why I’m going to be smart and look into her. I’m not big on social media, but I’m going to find hers. I don’t want to invade her privacy, but I want to know who she is, what her past is like. I want to know if she has skeletons—past actions with past boyfriends—moments of dishonesty.

  I want a way to connect with her beyond working hours, because in all my infinite wisdom and experience with women, I managed to not even think about getting her phone number.

  It’s ordinarily not necessary, or even something I want. I rarely date women, and on the random occasion I do hook up with one, it’s s
trictly casual.

  No numbers, no commitment, no personal information out there.

  Fresh out of the shower, now would be the perfect time to start finding out what I can about Dee and see if I can get in touch with her before work tomorrow.

  I pad through my apartment with my computer in hand over the dark hardwood floors, grabbing a cold beer from the refrigerator on my way, then cross the living room and take up residence on my balcony.

  The view up here is pretty great. I love watching dusk settle over Providence and give way to business lights and the liveliness of the city. It’s peaceful out here, quiet enough from how high up I am, but with the distant sounds of people living beneath to drown out the silence. I pull up a seat at my table and prop my feet on the chair across from me. The cool summer air breezes over my exposed, still warm from my shower skin, and sends a brief chill down my body. I open up my laptop and do something I haven’t done in a long time, I sign in to my Facebook account. Notification after notification dings on my computer, forcing me to silence the volume before I get too irritated and give up.

  I have friend requests from old college buddies. I have friend requests from people I knew back in grade school. There are even some from exes and some of Xavier’s teammates, but I don’t want to add any of them—even if they know who I am and who I’m related to.

  Before I can look for Dee, a picture my brother shared earlier catches my eye. He has it captioned ‘Always the best. Nobody beats us Alexander Brothers.’ I don’t need to scroll back up to know Xavier shared this one. It’s from when we were teens; I was barely in high school. He is most active on here, but he’s also the most open and proud of our name, our bond, and our connection. He shares a lot of family pictures.

  Comments fill the space beneath the image, women talking about how cute we were, teammates giving him shit for being shirtless and scrawny, acting like that hasn’t changed yet. It’s all very juvenile. At the same time, though, I love seeing the picture. I love seeing a day I loved and still cherish now. The only thing missing from this photo is her. She would have made it so much better.