Romance Me: A Collection Of Standalone & First In Series Books

by Florella Grant

  Alex joined them and picked his daughter up. She looked to Kimberly for an answer. Kimberly grinned from ear-to-ear. "Yes, I will." She kissed both Ariel and Alex. There couldn't be a better way to end the night.

  Hook, Line, & Scalpel

  Chapter 1

  REAGAN FOWLER LEAPED away from the scorching water and stuck her head out the shower curtain. Her boyfriend, Matt, adjusted his fly and looked at her through the mirror over the sink.

  “What the hell are you doing?” She barked.

  “Nature calls,” he said in a sleepy voice. “What's it look like I'm doing?”

  She dipped her toe under the water, still too hot. It would remain hot until the toilet water stopped running. “Can't you see I'm in the shower?”

  “Ooh?” Matt reached for the curtain and pulled it back. “Let me join you.”

  Reagan pushed his hand away, but not before he eyed her naked body. “Stop. It's not a good time and you know it.”

  His face hardened as he yanked the curtain. “Whatever,” he mumbled and turned around. Reagan stepped under the stream once again. “It's never a good time for you,” Matt grumbled. As she lathered herself with soap, he flushed the toilet again.

  “You're such a jerk,” she squealed, “and you will make me late for work.”

  Reagan Fowler followed the same routine, day after day. She woke at 3:30am, showered, and was out the door by 4:00. Her drive to Bay City Medical took twenty minutes, which allowed ten to walk across the parking lot and to her workstation. Matt's bathroom stunt put her behind everything.

  She left the apartment at 4:05 and told herself she'd be fine. Five minutes was nothing a heavy foot on the gas pedal couldn't fix. She couldn’t avoid the train hauling dozens of boxcars though. Damn it! This isn't happening!

  She reached the nurses’ station at 4:43, thirteen minutes later than usual and thirteen was never a good number for Reagan. Other scrub nurses took their times arriving at work and getting their prep work done, but that wasn't Reagan's style. She glanced at the coffee maker, empty. It's not made yet, if I don't do it, nobody does.

  There wasn't time to fuss. Reagan shrugged her shoulders and noted the days’ surgeries, then set off to prepare for her assignments.

  Two hours later, she rubbed her temples. “Are you ok?” Her best friend and coworker, Mercy Rutherford asked?

  “Lack of caffeine,” Reagan answered. “Haven't had coffee yet.”

  Mercy looked over at Reagan as she scrubbed her hands. “I made a pot a little while ago. Go take a break.”

  Reagan toweled her hands and grinned. “What would I do without you?”

  “I love you too,” Mercy giggled. “Now go.”

  Reagan approached the nurse’s station and noticed a large paper cup with a note attached. The cup had a smiley face drawn on it along with her name written in black marker. “Don’t be mad at me,” the note said, “it’s not my fault I had to go.”

  Even when angry at Matt, he always brightened her day. They’d been together for seven years and Reagan hoped he’d pop the question soon. They’ve talked of marriage, starting a family, but he’d yet to ask. Reagan dwelled on it more than she should. Give him time. He loves me.

  The couple were on edge because of Reagan’s work hours. She went to bed early to wake before daylight, while he stayed in the living room doing God knows what. Their sex life suffered and resulted in quickies here and there, but they shared a deep connection and Reagan appreciated every moment she had with him. Lack of sex led to arguments though, and every little thing annoyed her. I'm no angel either but he puts up with me! Reagan knew she’d get her wish and be his bride.

  Reagan held the cup and thought about Matt as she swallowed the warm liquid. The weekend would be there in two days and she thought she’d surprise him with a romantic night. She planned to make his favorite dinner then they could share a hot bath. Her thoughts consumed her as the coffee spilled from the cup. Shit.

  The beverage dripped onto her scrub top, bounced off her breast, and landed on the floor. The tissue box was empty. “Damn it,” she mumbled before she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Reagan headed straight to the clean utility closet to get another box to clean her workstation, and her shirt.

  Just like on television and movies, Bay City Medical had its share of affairs and frisky business going on in places you least likely expect to see. It was common to walk in on a couple who only got to see each other while at work, you just never think it will be someone you love. Until it happens.

  The clean utility room door didn’t budge when Reagan tried to open it. Clue number one, if it's locked from the inside, it's locked for a reason. She took the access card out of her pocket and opened the door.

  Sure enough, someone pressed a young girl against the opposite wall, her skirt pushed up her thighs. Her hands held the back of a man's head, but her attention focused on Reagan. “Just need some tissues,” she whispered, she had no intention on stopping the lovebirds from making out. The plan was to grab the box and to get out of there. The girl wiped her mouth and tried to push the man away, alerting him they weren’t alone, but he seemed eager to devour his lover.

  It took a second to put the pieces together but when she did, Reagan wished she could close her eyes and take it all away. She knew the tattoo on the man’s shoulder. Matt.

  The tissue box hit the floor, and the door slammed behind her as Reagan stormed off. She said nothing to the pair, nothing to stop the man she loved from pounding the young unit clerk. The coffee cup sat on the counter as Reagan walked by. He didn’t bring it to apologize, he brought it as an excuse to enter this side of the hospital and hook up with the girl.

  Did he plan this? How long has he been seeing her?

  Matt worked in the East wing which was an addition put on by the hospital twenty years ago. He worked in radiology as a technician and didn’t need to speak to the surgeons on Reagan’s floor. The only time he came to the surgical floor was when he wanted to visit Reagan. She thought he stopped by with coffee to say good morning, but she’d been wrong.

  How could he be so stupid? Reagan grabbed the cup, still half full, and threw it into the trash can. Liquid splashed the wall and the top of the can, but she didn’t care. That’s when the tears began to puddle in her eyes. She couldn’t cry, not at work, what if someone asked her what was wrong? No, Reagan decided she wasn’t anywhere near ready to discuss Matt’s infidelity.

  She made a beeline to the bathroom, pushed the door and ran through as quick as she could with no one noticing. Reagan dodged inside the restroom and hid inside a stall. Her vision blurred and she hadn’t been paying attention to her surroundings.

  She couldn’t help but cry, her throat constricted, pulse raced, tears streamed down her reddened cheeks. The girlish sob Reagan tried to control, let loose, and she bawled like a baby. She sat on the toilet, with the lid closed, and buckled over. Her chest tightened as Reagan fought for air. Her head rest in her hands, and hair stuck to her wet face. So, this was what they called ugly crying?

  Reagan never ugly cried before, never had a reason, her life had been perfect until that day. She held things together well, but the morning she had and her boyfriend moving his hand up another’s skirt, did Reagan in. She sobbed and sobbed, careless of the time.

  “Are you okay in there?” A strange voice asked from the next stall. It didn’t occur to Reagan that it was a man talking to her. “Hello,” he said again. “Listen, I know it’s none of my business but since we’re both here, if you need to talk to someone, I’m listening.”

  Reagan sat up and used wadded toilet paper to wipe her eyes, her breathing still heavy and she didn’t know if words would form or not. “Yeah,” Reagan whispered, sniffing air into her clogged nostrils at the same time.

  “You don’t sound all right,” he said.

  Then it hit her, all at once. Everything she’d been bottling up, came out of her mouth like word vomit. “The shower was too hot, and I had to wait f
or a train,” her voice trembled as she spoke.

  “Can you slow down?” the man asked. “Your voice is high pitched; I think only dogs can understand you.”

  Asshole!

  Reagan took a deep breath and started over. “I’m having a bad day and it’s all because of my boyfriend.” She wanted to say more, might have told the stranger her personal business, but he interrupted again.

  “Hmm, boy problems, huh?” He stopped speaking for a moment while she composed herself. Reagan didn’t recognize his voice and thought maybe he would listen to her without judging. He continued to talk, “Can I just tell you that there is nothing in this world that you can’t talk about in a relationship?”

  “But-”

  “But nothing,” he cut in. “How bad could it be?”

  Thoughts of stabbing the stranger, just enough for him to feel pain too, crossed her mind. The sobbing started again, “He, he,” she couldn’t find the words.

  “You’re not thinking,” the man lectured.

  She sat on the toilet and ran her fingers through her hair. The urge to stab him with something grew stronger. “I am too,” Reagan protested. “You don’t understand what I’m going through so save yourself the trouble of trying to help.” There, she told him, what could he say to make her believe he’d been correct, and that she hadn’t been thinking?

  “I’m sorry,” he started. “It’s just, well, I assumed you weren’t thinking because you’re crying your eyes out in the men’s room.”

  Wait. What? “This isn’t the men’s room,” she snapped. Reagan wasn’t dumb enough to enter the wrong bathroom. She jumped up, threw open the stall door and looked around. Reagan saw the same white walls, the same faded green stalls, and heard the same depressing music bellow through the speakers. Yes, she was in the correct rest room. She turned and noticed three urinals against the wall stare at her. The room spun and her mind played tricks on her. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear they looked like the ‘hear no evil’, ‘see no evil’, ‘speak no evil’ monkeys and they gave her the evil eye. Well, not the ‘see no evil’ monkey urinal, it covered his eyes, but his tongue stuck out like a two-year-old. “Oh my God,” Reagan moaned.

  The man’s laughter echoed in the small room. “I’ve been waiting for you to leave because there’s just some things I don’t like to do when there’s a lady near.” Reagan’s stomach flipped, and she held herself back from hurling. She ran out of the men’s room as fast as she could, praying there were no witnesses in sight. “Did you wash your hands,” he hollered from the other side of the door.

  As soon as Reagan reached the nurses station, she flopped down in the chair and buried her crimson face in her hands. A hand reached out and touched her shoulder, causing her to jump out of her seat. “Reagan, what’s wrong?”

  Mercy stood in front of her. Reagan backed up and planted her rear into the seat again, turning her face so Mercy couldn’t see the tear streaks. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she yelled.

  “What happened to you?” Mercy asked as she pulled up another chair and faced Reagan. She didn’t answer right away, and Mercy reached to wipe the tears that pooled below her eyes. “Tell me.”

  Reagan couldn’t tell her, she couldn’t tell anyone, Mercy of all people. Mercy would march over to Radiology and strangle Matt with her bare hands. If anyone got to choke him, it would be Reagan. Maybe the bathroom stranger was right, Reagan thought, maybe she should talk about it with Matt. She straightened herself out to get through the day without crying again. Maybe she stopped him from making a terrible mistake. Maybe fate brought her into the utility room before things went too far between him and that trashy clerk. Only time would tell and there was nothing Reagan could do until then.

  “Seriously,” she faked a laugh. “I just made a complete ass of myself but I’m ok.” Mercy continued to wipe Reagan’s leaking eyes and gave her a disapproving look. Reagan knew Mercy knew when she lied, but Mercy didn’t press Reagan further.

  Mercy pierced her lips together and stood. “Well you better do something about your hair, and hurry, they’re about to start.” She stood and watched Reagan finger comb her hair, throwing it into a ponytail.

  Reagan looked down at her watch, first surgery was always at 7:30. It was 7:20 and time to scrub up and get inside to assist the surgeon. She stood and headed toward the OR, Mercy right on her tail. “Are you with me?”

  “No,” she replied. “I’m with Doctor Stillman today.” She paused before heading to the other operating room. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes,” Reagan lied again. On the inside she shook like a leaf, like it had been her first surgery. She inhaled and stood tall. Reagan’s personal life might have been a disaster, but her career was as good as it got. I got this! Mercy leaned over and kissed her cheek before leaving Reagan to her duties.

  The surgery lasted three hours and distracted Reagan from her thoughts. Like usual, the surgeon confirmed her nursing skills and thanked her for being there. It was what she loved most about Bay City Medical, the doctors appreciated their nurses and it showed. If only she had surgeries lined up for the rest of the day, but she didn’t, and became afraid her bottled up emotions would peak their ugly heads again.

  Mercy was in the cafeteria when Reagan entered. Reagan paid for a sandwich and noticed how the cashier avoided looking her in the eyes, but she thought nothing of it. She sat down on a chair next to Mercy. “How’d your day go?”

  “Uneventful and yours?”

  Reagan shoved the tuna sandwich in her mouth and swallowed it without too much chewing. “Infected appendix, you should’ve seen it.”

  Mercy laughed. “I’m eating, sicko.”

  Reagan could feel her spirits lift. She knew, no matter what she dealt with at home, she’d still walk away being a damned good scrub nurse. “You didn’t have a problem telling me about the damaged liver you saw last week,” Reagan teased. They sat and talked about the surgeries they witnessed, neither of them affected enough to not eat.

  “Come on,” they heard Faith call out from behind them. Faith had been their loving Nurse Manager since Mercy and Reagan worked at Bay City. Faith loved them like her own daughters, but they wouldn’t dare cross her. “Meeting at the OR nurses’ station in five.”

  Mercy and Reagan both stood, threw their trash away and raced toward the elevator. Brief afternoon meetings at the nursing station meant something new and exciting, and Reagan could use a little excitement.

  Chapter 2

  FAITH, THE NURSE MANAGER Dean met that morning, stood and talked to her nursing staff as he stood nearby listening to them chatter. They discussed new policies, reminders of old ones, things of that nature but he wasn’t paying attention. Dean looked at their faces, tried to listen to their voices to figure out which one was the sobbing princess from the men’s room.

  Voices failed him, though he couldn’t recognize her voice when she spoke in a normal tone. She’d been crying when she talked to him earlier. Dean didn’t see her, even when she left the stall and stood inside the bathroom. He could have peered through the crack, looked at the damsel in distress, but Dean was a man who respects privacy.

  She has a boyfriend. I don’t stand a chance.

  Not that he wanted a chance. Dean wasn’t looking to comfort her in that way. He didn’t know why he searched for her, being the new guy at Bay City Medical, she wouldn’t talk about her problems to him, anyway.

  He only wanted to make sure the girl was all right. His eyes drifted to the floor and looked at the nurses’ shoes. What did she wear? He tried his hardest to remember since her feet were the only part of her he could see from the stall next to him. At one point, before saying anything, he bent over to convince himself he wasn’t crazy and there was a female in the men’s room. Mickey Mouse ears! That was it, the confused woman had stickers on the top of her sneakers.

  Dean looked around and bingo, gray sneakers with big ears faced him. Oh no, he thought. Why would she have stickers
on her shoes? Was the headstrong female who didn’t wash her hands a nurse in Pediatrics?

  He wanted to be a pediatric cardiac surgeon since he was a young kid. There was no way he would allow some ditzy cry baby to work with the children if she couldn't bother to wash her hands after using the restroom. If she was a pediatric nurse, he would have to put his foot down right away.

  “And oh, before you go,” he heard Faith wrap up her meeting. “There’s someone I want you all to meet.” Her hand pointed toward Dean and he took one step forward. He met the other doctors, most of them anyway, but this had been the first-time meeting any of the nurses. “This is Doctor Dean Everly.”

  Dean stepped closer and watched them go from professional nurses to drooling high school girls in seconds. “Kind of cute isn’t he,” he overheard a blonde say as she bumped her hips into the woman he tried to comfort. The restroom stranger rolled her eyes when her coworker spoke. Dean didn’t care. She crossed her arms over her chest and bit her lip as Dean began to speak.

  “Yes,” he confirmed what Faith said. “I’m Doctor Everly and I’m here on a fellowship in Pediatric Cardiac surgery.”

  The women cooed and inched closer, except Ms. Didn’t Wash Her Hands. “Oh wonderful,” Faith purred. “Reagan specializes in Peds, one of the best scrub nurses you could ask for.” Faith nudged the nurse and forced her to take a step forward.

  Reagan held her throat with one hand and held out the other, “Sorry, sore throat,” she mumbled. Too embarrassed to talk to me, aren’t you? She stood there with her hand stretched for him to shake it. “Reagan Fowler, pediatric scrub nurse,” she squeaked like she didn’t have a voice because of her sore throat.

  Dean looked down at her gross hand. Cold germs now covered them, if she didn't lie about her throat. He stuck his hands into his lab coat without shaking hers. The girl standing next to her, the one who thought he was cute, whispered something into Reagan’s ear. Reagan smirked and shrugged her shoulders.