“I wasn’t joking when I said I don’t date doctors.”
“Why? A person’s occupation doesn’t define everything about them.”
“With doctors, yes, especially surgeons. You all have a God complex.”
She wasn’t entirely wrong, but she was far from entirely right. “Romy, weak personalities aren’t drawn to jobs like this. If I let doubt creep into my mind when I walk into an operating room, do you realize what could happen?”
I followed Romy to the next room.
“I’m quite aware.” Her words were curt.
“You’ve been around. I don’t have to spell it out. Does the persona carry into my personal life? Sure. It doesn’t make me a bad person.”
“But it does tend to make you arrogant and self-important. Not my type.”
I extended my hands, palms up. “Yes, I know I do good things, are you going to twist that into me being evil. I volunteer my time here every week. I coach kids’ racquetball at the rec center. Everything I do is focused on helping people. My calling is to serve, make the world a better place. And working with you today has been one of my most enjoyable days in a long time. Tell me you didn’t get something out of today.”
“Like magically falling for you?” she said, snark oozing from her words.
I huffed. “No. Like the pride that takes over when you did the right thing.”
She rested her hands on the supply cart then crossed her arms. Slowly turning her head, she squinted at me. “Quite the softie. The beard, tattoos, the drive…don’t fit everything I keep learning about you.”
“Exactly.”
Romy pursed her lips. “I’ve been hurt by more than one doctor who let his importance stand above everyone else’s. I packed up and left because being the victim doesn’t mean you get off easy.” Her stare fixed on the wall beside me. “Not rape. I didn’t mean to imply it. Nothing that bad, but my taste in men is horrible. Apparently, my novelty wears off.”
Fuck whoever hurt her. I craved holding her in my arms again. And yet her statement filled me with hesitation. Was I any different from her usual choice in men?
How many dates had I gone on to satisfy someone’s pestering? There had always been a sliver of an ego boost when women had interest in me even though I’d always protected my heart.
The weight of the silence cast a heaviness over Romy and her gaze dropped to the floor.
“I’m sorry, you’ve been hurt. Some people hurt the ones they love the most, others just hurt people. I promise I’m not like that.”
Romy pushed the cart to the next room. The burden of her thoughts filled the small space. What had happened that forced the most vivacious, life-inspiring woman I’d met into a dark depth. A place that told her to be careful of men like me.
Damn stereotypes. Not all guys with beards and tattoos were assholes. Nor were all doctors. I reached for her but stopped my hand before making contact. My heart ached to lift her chin, force her to see the man I was through the pigeonhole she’d put me in.
“Either you are or aren’t, it’s not my problem. Dating someone I work with is too risky. If something goes wrong, the revered surgeon won’t be fired.” She moved to the next exam room with me rushing to keep up.
“What about being friends? Do you have anything against friendship?”
“Too complicated.”
She spun around quickly and grabbed my lab coat. “Do I have to spell it out? You already hurt me by seducing me in front of everyone at the gift swap then sharing your Christmas cheer with Jessi.”
Her glare tore into me with the full torment of her words. I had hurt her. The pain was because of me. My chest tightened while I tried to make sense of what she was referring to.
Yes, I’d bared my feelings in a not so subtle way, but I didn’t have experience with being suave. Everyone wanted dominance from me, and doling it out came naturally, especially to a woman I wanted to see it through with. But Jessi, what the fuck?
I closed the door. Only a few other staff were finishing up, but I didn’t want this conversation getting to anyone else’s ears. “You’re right about the gift swap, but then you took off without even saying goodbye, no phone number. You fucking left me hanging. For all I knew, you were rushing home to share my gift to you with whatever guy you met at the rec center, because apparently it wasn’t me.”
Romy backed against the exam table and I wanted to fuck her right there.
My gentleness skills were lacking, but it would be my version of making love to her, rough and passionate. If only I could show her what she did to me, how she flustered my insides, made me question if I could fit love in my life, the elusive emotion I hadn’t allowed in, the only emotion capable of explaining her effect.
“I was about to invite you over when Jessi ran up to you and whisked you away. She winked at me over her shoulder before ducking into a room with you. I know what that kind of wink means.” Romy’s defiant stance spoke volumes.
It was my word against the dynamic duo of Jessi’s wink and Romy’s bad experiences with doctors. Not likely to be a fair match. I leaned against the counter and rested my hands on the edge. A sharp exhale prepared me to battle the never-ending date from hell. “Jessi told me one of the kids didn’t get a chance to sit on my lap and was crying. You may have noticed I spent the majority of the evening giving my time to those kids?”
Romy rolled her eyes.
“She told me he was hiding in the room and I tried to be the hero.” The hero, full of himself believing he could make everything right. The guy Romy didn’t want in her life. I clenched my fists at the impossibility of the situation.
“Nice, a cover story. As bold as you were during our pictures at the tournament, I wouldn’t have taken you for a guy who would bother. More of a bedpost notch kind of guy. Excuse me.”
Romy skirted out the door.
I fought every instinct telling me to chase her and make her listen, give me a chance. I wasn’t going to make her do anything.
Chapter 7
Cory
After the stressful day, I was eager to get the gym and smack some balls around. See if I could have any luck getting Romy and her errant imagination off my mind.
The courts were never in use Friday night, didn’t even make a reservation. As I rounded the corner, a ball smacked against the glass, surprising me someone else was playing. I’d check the next court because I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. Relieving tension by destroying racquetballs was my only goal.
A flash of a racquet came into view, then Romy. Damn. I took in all of her exposed skin and the tight tank top and spandex shorts. Tonight was supposed to help me get over her, not remind me how hot she was with those damn sculpted muscles. I’d be thinking of her all through the night again, no matter how good my hand was in the shower.
The bench where I sat to get my racquet and ball out was right behind her court, full view. She hadn’t looked my direction and I considered leaving.
Shit. How did she mess up my head? My entire concern about being able to have a woman in my life and maintain everything I’d worked for wasn’t off to a good start if I gave up my athletic outlet because she was in the building.
I planted myself on the bench and hurriedly got my stuff out. With any luck I’d be on my court without her noticing. If she came out to talk to me, I would have to leave or I’d spend all of my mental energy on not thinking about having sex with her. How the hell was I going to make a relationship work?
Shoving my bag under the bench, I sat up and Romy was running toward the back wall, swinging at a ball way overhead, almost out of reach. Her body stretched in front of me, thigh muscles flexing as she ran, arms lifted, holding her tits even perkier than I’d already determined they were.
And bam. She slammed into the glass like a damn peep show gone wrong. Her boobs flattened with the pressure making them appear even bigger, and her abs taunted me as they clenched tightly at the contact.
The barrier was sturdy, but I w
anted to rush forward and grab her. I stayed seated. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stop staring.
She must have sent the ball to the other end of the court, but it came back, with less energy, and bounced near her feet. The movement drew my attention for a split second, then our eyes locked.
Her expression wilted. Not the feeling I wanted her to associate with me.
Peeling herself from the glass, she opened the door and nodded for me to enter.
“I practice alone Friday nights.” Far more pathetic than my schedule sounded when I laid it out in my mind.
A smirk crossed her lips. “I don’t bite. And I promise not to go easy on you.”
I couldn’t respond. The sweat dripping down her skin followed paths that teased my fingers and tongue. If I was jealous of sweat, I was a goner.
“Get in here. I’m sorry about earlier. Guess I jumped to conclusions.”
Her apology imparted far more promise and hope than our light contact had over lunch. I stepped inside.
She made her way to the service line and the rally allowed us to talk without the pressure of a face to face discussion. I had to get a handle on myself, but I loved watching her.
“I didn’t follow you here if that’s what you’re thinking. You can ask at the front desk. Friday nights I unwind, by myself, like clockwork.” Again, explaining my life choices to her left me sounding like I needed to get a life.
Romy was up three points by the time I put more focus on our match than what she thought of me.
“It hadn’t crossed my mind, and I’ll note you didn’t sound defensive at all at the prospect of me judging you.”
Crap. An unsettling combination of desperation and defensiveness racked me when I tried to navigate the world of Andromeda. I’d overheard a nurse use her full name and Romy shut her down fast. One less beating I would take no matter how much I longed to have her entire name on my lips.
But I was ready for a different battle. “So if we back up to your opinion of me before you wrongly assumed I wanted anything to do with Jessi, would you be open to meeting me here on Friday nights. It’s the least attended night at the rec center. We can play and hang out as long as we want, until they close.”
Romy swung and missed, finally giving me a chance to serve. She said, “You are a worthy opponent. Trial basis? No assumptions?”
“Sure. I wouldn’t want you assuming you’re going to win all of the matches. I’ll only throw every other one.” I dodged out of the way of my own serve.
“Did I mention I don’t date arrogant doctors?” Her laugh added hope.
I bit my response back. I’d made headway and couldn’t risk a joke about owning my arrogance. Considering it an absolute win to have a standing non-date with her on Friday evenings, saying good night was not as painful as it could have been.
No awkward moment while we worked through the mental gymnastics of whether or not to kiss. A post-match handshake led us separate ways.
Not that I didn’t thirst for more time with her. But the only thirst I could satisfy was the one the water fountain took care of.
Chapter 8
Romy
Cory was unlike any other doctor I’d dated, but I feared he would change. Meeting on Friday nights served as my compromise. I could feel him out, let him get used to me, see if he’d grow tired of the new girl. Gain the trust of the other nurses and find out if he had a reputation. So far, he was the golden boy. Too good to be true usually didn’t last.
When he rounded the corner in his shorts and tank top, I drank in his muscled body, his tattoos, his beard. I firmed my grip on my racquet and ball to remind my hands where they belonged. Meeting his eyes to keep from exposing myself, I caught his smile. I loved his smile. Was I a fool not to admit he had one-hundred percent appeal? Was I throwing the figurative baby out with the bathwater?
“Hey, Champ.” He’d adopted the nickname for me, and after he refused to stop using it, I banished him to only using it on the court.
It was cute, and made my heart lighter every time he said it. Exactly why I had to insist he not use it anywhere else. I had to limit the number of times he made me swoon, save myself the embarrassment of falling for yet another guy who was wonderful, at first.
My other relationships were great in the beginning, when I was new and shiny. Time dulled my appeal or something, and I’d learned my judgement wasn’t the best when it came to men.
He motioned to the ball in my hand. “Go ahead.”
All day long I listened to patients, read their tell-tale body language, and evaluated whether their words matched their actions. It allowed me to offer the best care possible. Why couldn’t I read signs in my relationships?
Why didn’t I trust every cell in my body screaming at me that Cory lived up to his reputation? I answered easily. If he was perfect, he’d definitely grow tired of me. Same song, fourth verse. Not a chance. Not a broken record.
I served and he returned the ball in an unspoken understanding we weren’t there to take each other out. We fell into a flow, keeping our cardio maxxed and didn’t risk any injuries. Except my heart who couldn’t understand why I’d put the perfect guy under quarantine.
I chastised my foolish heart for drooling over the new guy while quickly casting the pain of the last break up aside. Nope. Not going to happen.
He couldn’t be perfect. No one was.
At work the following week, I decided to dig deeper when a rumor surfaced.
“What’s this I hear about Cory and the new intern?” I asked Melissa while we slipped into the cafeteria for a break.
“Didn’t take long for you to relinquish new girl status. I suppose every newbie around here takes notice of Cory. If they’re single, they tend to think they’ll be the one to win him over. The guy’s a workaholic.” She poured a cup of coffee and I was right behind her.
Was she politely reminding me how I looked at him? Implying there was nothing special between us? Distance…what I wanted? He was no different than the other doctor’s I’d dated. Remembering my mantra would keep me safe. “He didn’t waste any time moving on.”
“Is it moving on if you don’t make a commitment?” She added cream and sugar to her coffee and stepped aside for me to do the same.
“Demon’s in the details.”
“He plays it off saying there wasn’t a connection, but a single date with him has broken numerous hearts.”
I sampled my coffee and added more sugar. Exactly the kind of guy I didn’t want in my life. “Guess I narrowly escaped heartbreak.”
“I thought things were different with you.”
“Apparently not. Word is he was caught with the intern.”
“Penny? Really? I didn’t take her for one to have sexy times at work. Who caught them?”
“Hey, ladies.” Cory’s voice paralyzed me.
Crap. How much had he heard? I held my cup to my lips as I turned. “Hey.”
“Sounds like I walked up for the good part of the conversation.”
Melissa’s face was bright red and mine couldn’t have been far behind. “Um, not really.”
“Yeah, we weren’t talking about anything. Heading back to work,” Melissa said.
Could she have sounded any guiltier?
We rushed away and a tinge of guilt upset my stomach for leaving Cory standing there, and for gossiping about him. He’d been nothing but nice to me. Our Friday night racquetball meetings were the highlight of my week. What would it take for me to trust him?
With only one day passing since he caught Melissa and me, I’d found a replacement for the free clinic, but it was our non-date night. I could only hope he wouldn’t bring up my participation in the rumor mill.
I showed up to the rec center when we were supposed to begin, waved at him through the glass, and went to the locker room to change, buying myself a few more minutes.
Dressed and ready to pretend I wasn’t sad he’d bypassed me, I waited for him to finish a one-man rally before I opened the door.
<
br /> “Hey,” he said.
“Hey, sorry I couldn’t work at the clinic today. I hope everything went okay. I’m sure Melissa did a great job. I’m sure no one missed me. I should be back next week, just had some stuff to take care of today. It’s hard to keep up with—"
“Stop.” He’d been ready to serve the ball, but faced me. “Yes…I heard you talking to Melissa, and no, you don’t need to obliterate every moment of peace in here to prevent me from bringing it up.”
He resumed the position to serve and began our match, in silence.
Chapter 9
Cory
Our non-date Friday night racquetball commitment should have proven to her I didn’t have any other focus. How many guys would give up prime dating time to get their ass handed to them on the racquetball court.
The tension from the rumor incident hung heavily. I hadn’t even been sure she’d show up, but she did.
After I stopped her from rambling, there was no banter. No camaraderie. Two people trying to bridge a fierce divide. The impossibility of breaking into her trust stripped the fun from our time together. She’d been a worthy racquetball opponent, but competition wasn’t what made Friday night the highlight of my week.
I lost focus on our match.
Romy slammed against me, not even catching herself, but a full body press knocking the wind out of me, but our contact hit me much harder.
My cock stirred. I glanced at the wall of glass, thankful the people who’d been on the benches a minute before were gone.
She fumbled to push away and her hand trailed down my arm, studying my tattoo. Why then?
With my cock threatening an erection, I worried she’d notice the bulge in my pants. I didn’t care. The façade of being friends was too hard to maintain. I’d done everything possible to gain her trust, win her over. Her reaction to the rumor mill proved she didn’t trust me, and maybe never would. All of her talk about protecting herself, sunk in. She couldn’t let me in, and I’d spent my life keeping everyone out. Without ever really getting to understand her, I’d let her in, and she’d left me to fend for myself.
Healing My Heart Page 4
