“I still stand by the board’s goals and decisions,” Harlow said.
“Except when it came to wanting to put me in the position of co-director.”
He waited out her shock—and it took a couple of holy-shit heartbeats for her to get there—before adding, “I wasn’t your first choice for this job, was I?”
Clearly, he already knew the answer. Not that it would change hers, even if he didn’t. “No. You weren’t.”
But rather than get pissy over her truth bomb, he simply smiled, and damn it, Harlow’s face heated and her breath caught.
“I’m going to enjoy proving you wrong,” he said, unfolding his long, strong frame from his desk chair and moving toward the door.
The borderline dare made her brows arch. “I’m never wrong.”
Connor’s smile grew even bigger as he tossed it over one brawny shoulder on his way out. “There’s a first time for everything. Enjoy the rest of your breakfast.”
9
As much as it stung to admit it, Connor was regretting the way he’d shot his mouth off like a two-dollar pistol by the time lunch rolled around. Not that he felt bad about going toe-to-stiletto with Harlow over her trust issues, or sorry for sticking up for the clinic’s employees. It had only taken ninety minutes of watching them in action to confirm that the staff was exactly as overworked as he’d feared. But most of them did also lack knowledge of proper protocol, which meant Harlow had a leg to stand on with her mission to clean house.
And that meant he was going to have to stand his ground very carefully in order to get what he wanted. As tempted as Connor was to argue his way into her concession (and he. Was. Tempted), he knew that most of the time, the best strategies didn’t involve force. Getting chippy with Harlow right from the jump wasn’t going to win him any favors if he wanted to convince her to give the staff the skills they needed rather than two weeks’ severance and a better-luck-next-time.
But Christ, she was stubborn. And inflexible. And so goddamned infuriating.
And when she’d taken that first bite of her breakfast, her face caught up in pure, sweet bliss, she’d been the most beautiful woman Connor had ever fucking set eyes on.
Assess. Strategize. Act. Jackass. He had far more important things to do—not to mention prove—than to go thinking with his downstairs head. He shook himself back to the here and now of the clinic’s lobby, which he’d managed to help their intake administrator, Macie, keep out of the standing-room-only department. At least, for the moment.
“Okay,” she said, her caramel-colored braids sliding over her shoulder as she tilted her head at the laptop screen in front of her. “So, I reassigned all of the nurses and PAs. Dana is on triage, Bryant will handle the well-check appointments. The rest of them will take the patients who have been triaged according to who’s most emergent first, then who’s been waiting the longest, and Dr. Mendoza will sign off on everyone and be on standby for the most emergent cases. Does this look right?”
Connor looked over her shoulder at the color-coded grid, which was already leagues more efficient than the assignments that had been in place just a few hours ago. “Yep. Perfect. Giving everyone specific tasks should be far easier than the flat-out rotation you’ve been using to treat everyone first-come, first-served.”
Alejandro Mendoza was their only M.D. on staff today, and one of the clinic’s most experienced physicians. They needed to allocate their resources accordingly—he shouldn’t be doing throat cultures that could be handled by a nurse while people with more pressing symptoms or injuries sat around waiting. And getting worse.
Macie gave up a doubtful look. “I don’t know. We’re pretty used to the old way. The people in chairs get kinda cranky when they see patients who came in after them get to pass the line.”
“I know this new system feels kind of weird to you now,” Connor said with a smile, “but when it works, we won’t have too many people in chairs who can complain. And if they do, feel free to let them know that passing the line isn’t a good thing.”
After all, the last patient he had rushed past triage in the ED had been wearing her femur on the wrong side of her skin. She’d come through her surgery just fine, according to Mallory, but still… “If anyone gives you a hard time, just holler. I’m going to go take a look at the scheduling for the rest of the month. See if we can’t make things work a little better there, too.”
“Okay. Thanks, boss.”
Ugh, that was so weird. “Just Connor,” he reminded her.
“Sorry,” Macie said. “That one’s just going to take a little getting used to, is all. Dr. Roper was real big on formality.”
Dr. Roper was also the asshat who had screwed the clinic six ways to Sunday with his lack of management and leadership. “It’s okay if it takes a while,” Connor said. “I’ll be here for the long haul.”
“Good. This place could use you,” she told him, then turned her attention to the woman who had just walked up to the triage desk with a toddler on her hip. Connor made no less than nine mental notes on his way through the clinic’s main space, nodding hellos at the staff as he went. Finally, he reached the office, taking a quick second to glance through the window at Harlow to make sure she was in the office alone before opening the door.
Yep. Still just as pretty as she’d been this morning. Also, still just as diligently focused, and damn it, he might not like her business-before-people mindset, but any idiot could see how badly she wanted the clinic to succeed.
Time to soften things up. Strategy.
“So, I’ve got good news and bad news,” he said, pressing as much levity into the pronouncement as possible as he closed the door behind him.
Harlow eyed him over the narrow red frames of her glasses, which should have made her look like an eighty-year-old librarian, but instead they just made his dick think it had been invited to this meeting. “Bad first,” she said.
Figured. But at least she was true to form, and anyway, her answer made it easier to lighten the mood.
Connor smiled. “And here I thought you were an optimist.”
Harlow didn’t smile back, but she didn’t scowl, either, so overall, not a loss. “I’m a pragmatist,” she said. “I like to know what I’m dealing with.”
“That…does not shock me.” Connor shook his head in a redirect. “Anyway, the bad news is, now that I’ve spent the morning observing the staff at work, I can officially say ops are as rough as we thought. The staff has no idea what an efficient system looks like.”
“So, that’s bad but not surprising,” she reasoned with one breath, going for the jugular with the next. “What’s the biggest issue for us to tackle in order to fix that?”
Suuuuch a loaded question. “How much time have you got?”
“Unfortunately, none.” She let out a sigh that softened her tone. “We’ve already lost weeks.”
A feeling Connor didn’t readily recognize buzzed through his veins, and he doubled down on his objective. “That was a rhetorical question, Harlow. You know, the kind where you…you know what, never mind.” He waved off the rest. “We can tackle stylistic devices later. For now, biggest issues. Best I can tell from watching the staff operate, it’s like a six-headed monster.”
“Wonderful.” Harlow painted the word with all the enthusiasm of someone headed for a double-decker root canal, and yeah, he couldn’t really blame her.
“They’re overworked, but it’s more than that. They’ve been mismanaged in pretty much every aspect of their jobs. We need a better operating system across the board.”
He lifted a hand and ticked off the main points on his fingers, one by one. “Restructured protocol for handling both emergent patients and wellness appointments, clearly defined roles for each employee, streamlined scheduling, more efficient use of the online systems. A lot of these patients aren’t even being triaged properly.”
Harlow remained quiet for a beat, during which Connor could practically hear all of her neurons firing like RPGs. Then s
he said, “I really think we need to revisit the idea of making changes to the staff. If they’re not equipped to handle things—”
“Hiring people with higher qualifications won’t change this,” Connor interrupted, unable to help it. “It’s a matter of designing a system that works and training the staff we have to use it.”
Harlow shook her head. “That’s a massive undertaking. Plus, we’d need weeks, if not months, to implement a new system, and there’s no room in the budget to hire a management group for the training.”
“Um, hi.” Connor waved. “Isn’t management training part of why I’m here?”
“Yes, but last I checked, there’s only one of you. And the clinic employs thirty-six, from the front desk to the medical staff to the lab. I know you’re good, Connor, but really”—one blond brow rose—“Houdini couldn’t even pull off training thirty-six employees in the timeframe we’ve got to work with.”
Well, shit. He couldn’t deny that Harlow had a point, and a damn good one. But he wasn’t about to give up on medical professionals who needed jobs, either. He needed a strategy, fast.
After a beat, he cocked his head and smiled. “You think I’m good?”
Her cheeks turned pink under the overhead office lights, and okay, yeah, this might work. “I believe we’ve covered this territory,” Harlow said smoothly, despite her blush. “Your résumé speaks for itself.”
“Okay, then let me prove it.”
“How, exactly?”
“Give me a chance to be Houdini.”
She remained silent for a breath, then another, before her doubt surfaced. “You think you can devise an effective operating system and train the entire staff to implement it, without dipping into the budget?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do. Look”—Connor leaned one hip against his desk, keeping their eye contact steady—“I get that our funds are limited, and that the staff isn’t up to par right now. Just give me a chance to fix what we’ve got before replacing them. Okay?”
“This isn’t how we do things, Connor.” Harlow folded her hands over her desk, unmoved. “I’m not trying to argue with you for argument’s sake, but I am here to run a business. And right now, that business is failing.”
Emotion flared in Connor’s chest. “You’re talking about a clinic. These people have jobs they need.”
“I understand that,” Harlow said. Her tone was level and logical, and damn it, she was making it hard to argue. “But just because the clinic offers healthcare doesn’t make it less of a business. It has to operate under the same basic rules as any company if it’s going to be successful. And since it’s not, the first thing we always do is make changes to the staff. We cut who we can and we replace who we need to. That’s just how it works—and it does work. Once we make changes, forward progress becomes less challenging.”
Nope. No matter how reasonable she seemed, this wasn’t right. “Staff cuts might work in other places, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s the best call to make here. You said it yourself the other day. The clinic is different. We have to treat it that way.”
Harlow’s pause was microscopic, there and then gone so fast, Connor might have wished it rather than actually seen it. “Just because Davenport Industries’ role here is a bit unorthodox doesn’t mean we should change how we do things.”
“But you and I are a new we,” he said, taking an impulsive step toward her. “Look, I know you don’t trust me. You’ve made that wildly clear. But I can’t earn your trust if you don’t give me a chance to. I really think I can turn things around with the staff we’ve got, and I think I can do it within budget. All I need is for you to give me a chance.”
She measured him with a glance, although Christ, she was impossible to read. That didn’t stop Connor from feeling every inch of her stare, making his heart pound faster and his skin tingle with heat until finally, she said, “One week.”
Uhhh. “One week…?”
“You’ve got one week until I present our progress at the next board meeting. Get a solid plan in motion by then that stays within the budget, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Connor battled the urge to fist pump. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” Harlow said. “It’s strategy, not a favor. If you can fix the staffing issues efficiently without spending money, that’s just a smart business move. Anyway, you’re not wrong about neither of us having the time to conduct a job search for replacement staff right now. But if your plan doesn’t work—”
“It’ll work,” he promised. At least, he hoped it would work. Holy shit, he was going to have to cash in some favors. And engage in some pretty cutthroat bribery. Also, possibly grovel. Whatever. It’d be worth it.
“If it doesn’t work, we’re going to do things my way,” she said, waiting for his nod in agreement before tacking on, “So, what’s the good news?”
Connor realized, just a breath too late, that Harlow’s blue eyes had lit with curiosity, and okaaaay, he was going to need to stack up some immunity against that.
He lifted a shoulder, aiming at impassivity he damn sure didn’t feel. “We made it to lunch.”
Pushing off the desk, he firmed his size thirteens beneath him and aimed himself at the office door. But her soft voice stopped him short.
“How did you know?”
His heart thumped gracelessly against his ribs, and he turned back. “Sorry?”
“Earlier.” Harlow paused, folding her hands over the papers on her desk. “You knew you weren’t my first choice for this director’s position. Did Langston tell you that?”
“God, no.” Connor huffed out a laugh to match the notion. The chief might have his back when it came to character, but where business was concerned? He’d never have let go of such confidential information. “Natalie told me.”
Shock crossed Harlow’s face, rounding first her eyes, then her mouth. “Dr. Kendrick told you that I offered her the job first?”
“Of course. We’re friends,” Connor pointed out. A little weak of a word for how tight they all were, but now didn’t feel like the time for splitting that particular hair.
“Well, yes, but…I suppose I didn’t realize you’re that, ah, close. I mean, I knew you were co-workers. After all, she introduced me to you last month.”
Something odd threaded through her tone, and it hit Connor directly in the solar plexus. “You knew then, didn’t you? That you and I had met before.”
Damn it, he’d known she probably never forgot a face. After all, it was the first thing his old man had taught him, even all the way back then. Smart businessmen always remember names and faces, Dannyboy.
“Yes,” she said. “I just couldn’t remember exactly when or where. If I’m being completely honest, I still can’t quite pull it up.”
Somehow, he could not imagine a scenario in which Harlow was anything other than completely honest, and it turned him on way more than it fucking should. “Your eighteenth birthday party,” he said, before he could stop himself. “At The Plaza Hotel. Very upscale.”
“Oh, my God. Of course,” she murmured, sitting up taller as she seemed to connect the dots. “You’d just finished your, what? Second year in college? You were in the business track at Remington University.”
Christ, her father had taught her well. The thought sent a bitter taste through Connor’s mouth, and his jaw clenched. “That didn’t exactly work out, but yeah.”
Harlow must have reached the dead-end in memory lane where his father had been indicted a few days later, because all she said was, “No. I don’t suppose it did.”
The ensuing silence stretched out between them, making Connor realize exactly how different they were. They might be here for the same reason, and yeah, she might have just done him a solid by agreeing to let him try to fix their staff issues his way.
But Harlow was a Davenport. Business through and through. It wasn’t just what she did. It was who she was, as woven into her fabric as her glacier-blue eyes or her pretty, heart-s
haped lips.
She’d been right when she’d said he shouldn’t trust her, either. So he said, “Guess I’d better get started on this staff training plan.”
And then he walked out of the office.
10
Harlow read the paragraph on the screen in front of her three times before finally throwing in the towel. This day had lasted approximately six weeks. Her temples and her shoulder muscles had thrown down in an epic battle for the title of I Can Throb More. She’d paused from work just long enough to head up the street for a grab and go dinner from one of those artisan soup/salad/sandwich places a couple hours ago, absently poking her way through a chicken Caesar salad as she weeded through report after report.
Macie had come in at eight to let her know they’d officially turned the deadbolt on the front doors and closed up for the night. Harlow had to assume that meant she was the only person still in the building now that it was nearly an hour later. She hadn’t seen anyone since Macie and Dana and Alejandro had exited together through the clinic’s back door, which locked automatically once shut.
Anyone. Ha, her subconscious—which she’d always hated, BTW—teased. You mean Connor.
Harlow pushed back in her desk chair and closed her laptop with an exhale. Okay, fine. But who else would be there after hours? Not that there was any sign that he was. In fact, she’d barely seen him after the verbal tango they’d done at lunchtime, when he’d somehow managed to convince her to break her tried-and-true business protocol in favor of giving him a shot to fix their staffing issues his way.
“You and I are a new we,” she grumbled under her breath, rolling her eyes at herself. Had she seriously fallen for that?
Actually, she hadn’t. It had been the part where he’d come at her with a decent plan, then told her that he couldn’t earn her trust if she didn’t give him the chance to that had gotten her.
Fucking logic.
Pressing to her feet, Harlow packed up her laptop and a few assorted reports, then moved to grab her coat from the spot where she’d hung it by the office door. The truth was, she didn’t need to trust Connor. She only needed to work with him until they turned the clinic around. If he pulled off this staffing thing within their budget, great. If not, she’d get her way regardless. The end result would be a win.
Between Me & You: An Enemies to Lovers Workplace Romance (Remington Medical Book 3) Page 9
