April said she understood and apologized profusely, and she’s done pretty well not allowing her feelings to shine through, although, I still catch her staring and pining after me though.
“Dr. Alexander,” one of the nurses inquires, pulling my mind from the standoff this morning.
“Yes?” I pull my hands away from the keyboard as though I were thinking about something in the chart I have opened, rather than about the woman I was in bed with last night and my out of line assistant.
“Emily McCarthy said she’s in a lot of pain and asked for more meds. Will you approve them, or should I tell her she has to ride it out?”
“Let me pull up her chart and check. Is it updated with last dosage and time?” I close out of the chart I was working on and bring up Emily’s, then glance the nurse’s way.
“Yes, sir. I charted it before my break around three hours ago.” I confirm her note and spin to face her. “Tell Emily she needs to wait another hour. Try to push that out a little further without telling her you will. See if you can get to four and a half. If her discomfort is noticeably present, push it at four hours. Call up to Psych and get a consult for her as well. I’ll put the order in now.”
“Thank you, Dr. Alexander. I’ll go talk with her right now then I’ll call upstairs.” She walks away and I input the note in the chart; then log out and close up the medical record app so I can head down for lunch and more caffeine before my next surgery.
Twenty-Two
Dee
“Today has been a long-ass day.” I pull my hair up and pile it into a messy bun on top of my head before I drop down into the booth across from Bridget. “Thanks for asking me to join you for dinner.”
“I had a long day, too. The twins have been cranky lately, then you have to add in a prepubescent little boy who thinks he knows everything, and the constant bickering between him and his father, and I leave one madhouse at work to live in another one at home. They can fend for themselves tonight. Simon is good at putting out fires and understanding Brendan. And he’ll be rewarded handsomely tonight once they’re in bed for giving me a night out to myself.”
“Oh, wow.” I laugh and grab the menu in front of me, looking to see what wine they have here and what sort of appetizers. “I don’t know how you do it. I barely manage a long day at work without losing my shit, I couldn’t imagine adding in a full family and responsibilities at home. I don’t even have a pet.”
She takes a sip of her water in front of her and shakes her head. “I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. Simon is a godsend, and I love my children more than life itself. With all of that said, we all need a little time and space to ourselves. Simon and I know better than anyone, and we both equally respect it and grant it without conditions when it’s needed.” She smiles over the table at me, and I know she is being entirely sincere.
“You’re still amazing for all of it.” I spot the waiter approaching and go silent, waiting patiently for him to take Bridget’s order, and then mine, before I continue again, “Should we wait for wine to talk work? Or can we dive right in?”
“I’d rather hear about you and Dr. Alexander.” She doesn’t even pretend to be discreet about asking, and I love it. It reminds me of home, talks with Tate, and what I’ve needed since the day I moved to Rhode Island: a good friend to confide in locally.
“A good girl doesn’t kiss or screw and tell.”
Bridget looks a little too pleased with this answer and she perches her hands atop the table, leaning in closer. “Tell me more.”
I sigh and laugh a little. “I’ll start with two nights ago and stop at early this morning. Then we talk about your workday.”
“Fair enough.” She wiggles in her seat, making a show of getting comfy for my story time, before I dive right in and tell her nearly everything. From our dinner out, to dinner in, sharing every detail but the really good ones I want to keep to myself to cherish forever.
Story time lasts through appetizers and the main course, as she interrupts to ask questions or react to everything I say. It’s nice, and she shares some of her past experiences with her husband too. She understands the delicate balance between work and personal life, and she has some great stories and antics to share, too.
Once dinner is done, and we are each down to the bottom of our glass of wine, I steer the conversation back to our workdays. Dinner was meant to decompress and vent, after all, and it wouldn’t be fair to not give her the opportunity.
“So what happened at work today?” I nod quietly when the waiter brings the bottle of wine back out to refill our glasses, signaling to him he should stop with half a pour, rather than the full glass. I’ve had more to drink here in the past month than I have in ages, I don’t want to get too carried away.
“There are days I love the ER. I love the mix of patients, the stories I get to share, all of it. But some days the cases are too hard. I had one girl early this morning, start of shift, who was in a major car accident. She was petrified, worried she’d never be able to play the sport she loved again. She had a few bad injuries and many cuts and bruises. It was heartbreaking hearing her sob before she had to be sedated. I had a DOA, too. Overdose. And then an elderly patient who was brought in by police. He had been missing from his home for a little over a day. Dementia.” She takes a large sip of her wine and closes her eyes. “These are the days that make me seriously consider becoming a stay-at-home mom.”
I recognize the symptoms and assessment from her first patient, but to protect both of us, I won’t bring up Emily’s name publicly. I understand how awful the rest must have been though. “I think I’ll be working with your first, it’s a sad story. I’m sorry you had so much happen today, too. Summertime brings out the heat-driven crazy in so many people, it seems.”
“It is a sad story. I might try to go up and check on her a little later on. It really broke my heart, and she was so alone.”
“Did you notice if she listed any next of kin or anyone other than her coach to notify?” I pinch the stem of my glass between my thumb and index finger and look at Bridget hopefully.
She shakes her head with her shoulders falling slightly. “Her parents are on a trip, she said they wouldn’t be able to answer or get to the hospital anytime soon.”
“That hurts my heart. She could use the support.” I let out a sigh and think about my own time in college, how my parents were always there supporting and encouraging me. “I can’t even imagine what it would feel like to not have them there if I had gotten hurt. What shitty timing.”
“Mine, too. Was she why your day was so long? Or was there more?”
Images of April’s thin, pretty face fill my mind and my heart quickens with my anger again. “If only. She was directly associated with it, but no, she didn’t make it bad. I finally met April though.” I know Bridget said she’s a sweetheart, and I’m sure she likes April, but I have to inform her why I do not and will never be liking her.
“If you’re linking her to your long day, there must be a story or something I’m missing. April is so kind and great at her job.”
I’d really like to stomp my foot like a toddler and shout April is far from kind, but I’m an adult, I won’t do that. Instead, I take a drink of my wine, compose myself then begin to explain. “April was anything but kind to me today. She tried undercutting my authority in front of E and Dr. Alexander. She questioned my ability, whether I was qualified to even work on such a gentle case, and basically said she would be watching my every move to make sure I’m competent.”
“No way. April isn’t like that.”
“She is and was. It was bad. Nate had to step in and stop her little dressing-down session in the middle of the hallway.”
“Why was April so short? Did something happen?”
“Not a thing. I hadn’t even met her before we saw E. I literally met her at E’s bedside while I stopped in to check on her, which I was requested to do. Nate said he told her about me earlier, too. So I really don’t get it.”<
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Bridget’s eyes grow wide and her head moves back and forth in disagreement or confusion. “The April I know is not like that. She’s an ally and advocate, not an enemy in the hospital.”
I shrug my shoulders and glance around the restaurant. “She wanted nothing to do with me. And she seemed beyond pissed when he basically chastised and disciplined her for overstepping her position. He said he was the superior in our little group of three, and if any action needed to be taken for anything, he would do it.”
“Holy. Shit. So he sided with you?” A wide, knowing grin spreads over her face and she leans in, whispering, “Are you two more than fuck buddies?”
“You are as bad as the rest of the hospital. This has to stay between us. Scout’s honor?”
She holds up a hand as though she’s taking an oath in court and all she’s missing is the Bible then says very sternly, “Scout’s honor. Now spill.”
“I think that’s the wrong hand gesture, it should be fingers, if I’m remembering from my childhood correctly.”
“Who cares. You have my word it will stay between us. Tell me what happened with him.” She’s giddy in her seat waiting for the information. It’s almost as though she’s a child about to find out where the treasure is hidden.
“We are trying to be friends, more than if last night is any indication. As you know, we are physically compatible. That’s not the problem though, he is so private, so mercurial, and he doesn’t trust me. However, when April was acting like I was no better than a toddler being allowed to run roughshod over the hospital, he basically said he trusts me completely and has faith I’ll do right by E. He told me on the phone he trusted me, too. It’s only professionally, but it’s a step, right?”
“Honey, his work is his baby. Him trusting you professionally is a huge step. Him defending you in front of someone else is, too. Yes, it was in a professional setting, but I’ve never heard of him stepping in and making even a small scene on anyone’s behalf before. He usually pulls people aside and addresses them privately.”
Our waiter returns to offer us desserts, and we both order something tasty before I get back to talking about Nate. “I know you’re right, it is huge. But it scares me. Everything with him scares me. I didn’t expect to come out here, run into a doctor—literally—then have him takeover my every thought, feeling, and want in life. Isn’t it too soon? Too much?”
“I didn’t expect the man who dug a fishhook out of my ass to become the love of my life and father of my children. I wasn’t ready for it, him, or how quickly my feelings grew at all. They just happened and I had no say in it.”
“It was one thing to find him noticeably hot at work. I’m not blind and I’m into men. But things were so much simpler when he was an arrogant asshole who I wanted to avoid as much as I wanted to see him and talk to him.”
“It tends to happen that way sometimes. Have you talked to your friend from back home, Tate, yet?” She takes a bite of her brownie and waits for my answer.
“I have. We actually have a name for him.” I giggle thinking about it. Today, he was most definitely Dr. Desirable.
“A name for him?”
“A name. We refer to him as Dr. Desirable,” I whisper the admission as quietly as I can, and instantly feel the warmth of embarrassment spread over my face.
Bridget’s laugh is loud and light, and it draws the attention of multiple other patrons here. “That’s a great name. I’ve used many for Simon too. And Dr. Alexander is definitely desirable. Even married I can openly admit that.”
“He is. He’s been undesirable at times too, though. But I made the mistake of calling him it while we were together. So, he knows, and he’s used it against me in the torments of passion and sex.”
“Oops.” She moves her hair off her shoulder and repositions herself in her seat. “You should never admit to nicknames like his, it makes them insufferable.”
The humor and truth of her words hit me like a brick, and I bark out my amusement in the form of an obnoxiously loud laugh.
“I fully expect to hear more from him now that I’ve slipped up and called him that to his face. I’m just waiting for it. Nate is definitely arrogant and confident enough to bring it up every chance he gets, even if it’s to tease me.”
“You speak about him with so much affection now, yet everything you’ve told me, there hasn’t been much in the way of personal communication or soft encounters.”
She doesn’t know about Xavier. I’d love nothing more than to tell her, but I promised him. And Xavier has nothing to do with whatever’s happening between Nate and me. “We text a lot, and have good pillow talk,” I admit. “I’ve seen him with sick kids, elderly patients, and when he isn’t a closed-off asshole at the hospital too. There’s a lot to like and respect there. It’s almost as if he’s two entirely different people. Having seen the soft side of him, plus the dirty-talking alpha, it almost makes his hospital persona hot too. Almost. It’s like he is working so hard to protect who he really is, he has created an alter ego at work. He isn’t his alter ego though. And I feel like I’m slowly getting to know the real Dr. Nathan Alexander.”
I can’t explain it any other way to her. I’m not sure I could explain it any other way to myself either. He doesn’t fully trust me, he can be the biggest dick on the planet, and he’s obnoxiously cocky. He’s also an incredible man who does a lot of good without ever sharing he’s doing it, he’s humble, and he’s fun to be around when we aren’t at work.
“Hmmm.” Bridget watches me, looking so close and hard, I feel like she’s able to see through me and examine my inner thoughts and feelings. “Go slow, keep getting to know him, I think it would do both of you good.”
“Do us good in what way?”
“In all ways. Just play it out and see what happens.”
I want to push for a more direct answer. I want to know what she apparently sees in us to make such a bold claim. At the same time, I don’t. I don’t want to know and get my hopes up because maybe somebody else sees what I do. I don’t want to admit I could see more with him, because getting hurt again, knowing I want something entirely different than he likely wants, scares the absolute shit out of me.
****
Nate
I’m exhausted, I’m on edge, and I’m pretty sure I’m in way the fuck over my head—a place I never wanted to be ever again.
There was no way I was going to sleep when I got home from Dee’s last night, so I took a quick shower, picked up a large coffee, and went out to my favorite spot to watch the sun rise before I had to head in to work.
Her body, the sounds she made, the way she responded to my every touch, tease, and torment brought me so much pleasure and excitement. Recalling and reliving each moment in my head has been the high I’ve needed all day to stay awake and going.
But the excitement and adrenaline of seeing her, being near her, maybe running into her again has worn off. My body aches from being on my feet in and out of ORs all day. My head hurts from caffeine overload and too little sleep. Even though everything about last night thrills me and I want more, I know I’m fucked.
I made a scene in the hospital today. I threw out blatant, unquestionable trust in a woman I barely know—in a professional so new to the job she isn’t even out of her probationary period yet. I put my personal feelings over my professional judgment and behavior.
I almost let it slip I have feelings for her, too. When April was touting her position and superiority over Dee’s head, I wanted to protect her from any scrutiny. I wanted to tell April she had no right to question Dee. I may have done so the first day, but it’s the same as my brothers. I can say what I want to them, I can get mad, I can argue and fight with them—but if anyone else tries I will defend them fiercely—even with my dying breath if I have to.
I’m not saying I’m ready to die for Dee yet, but I will defend her when she’s being wronged. I can talk to her, question her privately, share when I believe she is wrong, nobody else has that rig
ht. And I’ll make sure they know it.
This feeling of possessiveness and protectiveness is so foreign. Even with my ex, the one who was only with me to try to get to my brother, I never felt so protective I wanted to stop bullets for her, metaphorically, of course.
See, this is the problem. I’m taking a hot shower trying to relax after this long fucking day and I can’t get the woman out of my head. Memories of her, the day, and thoughts of what it all means are spiraling my mind out of control. How am I supposed to relax when I’m equal parts aroused and confused?
I’m not. That’s the answer. There is no way I will relax with these thoughts in my mind.
I brace myself with one palm on the wall and duck my head down, letting the hot water run over it and my shoulders. The tension there is as bad as the growing tension I’ve got farther south. And now all I can imagine is Dee on her knees before me.
I’m a sick, twisted fucker. I shouldn’t be picturing this, envisioning her hair wrapped around my fist while I fuck her mouth and throat raw. But I am.
Sex.
Friendship.
Dominance.
Trust.
Protection.
Independence.
Warring thoughts in my sleep-deprived brain.
I don’t know how I can take care of any of them tonight, but I can at least try to tame one.
I take myself in my hand, grip hard and tight, and slide my hand up and down, letting my thumb crest the head before squeezing back down to the base again. With my eyes closed, I can almost pretend it’s Dee’s mouth and hands doing this. My thumb swirling over the tip and slit—her tongue doing the same—sending shock waves of pleasure up my spine. Her mouth wet and hot taking me deeper, my fist slowly sliding down. I can picture her fingers back on my sac, massaging and teasing—featherlight touches that drive me wild—and I try to replicate it. My imagination runs wild as my fist works harder, faster, replaced by her in my mind, sucking, squeezing, licking, grazing her teeth over me.
Doctor Desirable: A Hero Club Novel Page 17
