Dr. OB (St. Luke's Docuseries Book 1)

by Max Monroe

  “Melody,” she answered for me.

  “Melody, yes.” Fucking hell. “Let’s step outside.”

  Please, please, get me out of this room.

  I was starting to get concerned that my new job was actually the Twilight Zone of weird, absurd, and comedically awkward.

  I’d been hired on the spot after arriving late to the interview for some insane reason. A reason that appeared to revolve around the fact that I wasn’t applying for the position to get inside of Dr. Cummings’s pants. Then, on my first official day on the job, instead of getting a normal, new-hire orientation of the inner workings of the office, I was told by an old nurse named Marlene—who bore an uncanny resemblance to Grandma Moses and literally gave zero fucks—to go into exam room one.

  It’d gone something like this:

  “Are you Melody?” she spat out with an irritated sigh.

  “Yes,” I responded with a smile. “Hi. It’s very nice to meet you.”

  Marlene ignored my proffered hand and grabbed a file from the desk. “Well, what are you waiting for?” she questioned with a raise of her brow. “You’re Dr. Cummings’s new nurse, and he’s already in exam room one.”

  She’d given me no time for questions. No welcome to the office basket or encouraging smile. No tour of the break room or where to find the supplies—or even helpful pointers about the best places to hide and cry.

  Just her, cantankerously telling me to get the fuck in there, basically. That was that. My official orientation.

  Unfortunately, Marlene’s list of undiscussed topics didn’t end there. No, she’d also failed to mention that inside exam room one wasn’t just Dr. Cummings. It was actually Dr. Cummings in the middle of a pap smear.

  Now, I’d had no issue with the pap smear itself, just the fact that my official introduction to my new boss had occurred while he was wrist-deep inside of a vagina.

  And funnily enough, that hadn’t been the worst part of the situation.

  No. The awkwardness had reached its climax when Dr. Cummings had pulled his hand out of a vagina and then promptly held that gloved, vaginal-fluid-covered hand out toward mine to shake.

  Uh… thanks, but no thanks, Doc. I’d never been the type of girl to shy away from bodily fluids, but I’d also never been the type to embrace bodily fluids without the proper protective equipment.

  As I followed Dr. Cummings out of the exam room, I honestly wasn’t sure where else this could go. And if I was being frank, I kind of wanted to strangle my mother for thrusting me into the insanity that was my current place of employment. Who are these people?

  “Let’s head into my office for a minute,” he said, glancing over his shoulder and gesturing toward the end of the hall.

  “Sounds good,” I lied. Because yeah, it was a lie. Absolutely nothing sounded good at this stage in the game, especially not several more minutes of awkward as fuck interaction between me and anyone in this office. I’d have much rather been relegated to dealing with only the patients, as I still held out hope for their normalcy, via access to the outside world.

  As I glanced up at the ceiling, I wondered if maintenance needed to come check for poor air quality or carbon monoxide contamination. Anything to explain the oddities of the people inside this office.

  At least it’s getting close to lunch time, I thought to myself and glanced down at my watch for confirmation. When the numbers 9:01 a.m. glared back at me, I groaned internally. It was a bad, bad sign when you felt like you’d worked for five hours, and nary an hour had passed. Not only was I in the Twilight Zone, but it was an alternate dimension of the Twilight Zone where time stood still.

  Holy screaming goats. This day is never going to end. I will literally die in this place.

  Dr. Cummings opened the door to his office and gestured me inside. “Please, take a seat,” he instructed and I complied. I didn’t have much choice in the matter, but as I sank into one of his old leather chairs, I thanked circumstance that if I was going to be consigned to hell, at least the seating was comfortable.

  Good design work, Satan.

  “Good God, that was awkward,” he said and moved around his desk. My eyebrows lifted in a statement of yeah, fucking obviously while his back was turned, but as he shrugged out of his white exam coat, my brain made a U-turn from its route to a well-deserved mocking and straight back toward arousal.

  His muscles flexed and moved beneath his well-fitted dress shirt, and his waist was lean without seeming skinny. With the way his muscles stood out in stark relief—through the freaking fabric for kittens’ sake—he didn’t need any more bulk. Dr. Cummings was a man who made the statement less is more ring true.

  Believe me, it was more. Oh boy, was it more.

  My traitorous gaze moved down his shoulders to his back and landed on his perfectly firm ass.

  Sweet baby pigeons in a kayak, my new boss was an Adonis.

  I wonder what he looks like naked. That perfect ass…those wide shoulders…his trim hips that no doubt hold that sexy as hell V…

  Holy hell. Was I just fantasizing about my boss? The very boss who’d no less than five minutes ago attempted to shake my hand with a glove covered in more than just latex?

  God, what was it with this place? It was like I’d stepped onto the set of the medical version of The Office. The only difference was that this boat of crazy wasn’t commanded by Captain Michael Scott. It was Dr. Awkward Adonis.

  I cleared my throat nervously and watched as Dr. Cummings threw his exam coat haphazardly across the back of his chair and sat down. He rested his elbows on the mahogany wood of his desk and ran a frustrated hand ran through his golden-brown locks. I fought my brain’s urge to daydream about running my own hand through those sexy tresses and gave my best attempt at professionalism, crossing my legs and sitting up straighter in my seat.

  Eventually, his gaze met mine, and he offered an apologetic smile, blue eyes crystal clear with unpretentious sentiment. “Can we have a do-over?”

  “A do-over?” I asked, taken aback by his question.

  “Yes.” He nodded. “I’d prefer our first introduction didn’t occur while I was in the middle of a pap smear,” he explained earnestly. “I’d also prefer that you’d wash that embarrassing and, honestly, really unsanitary, attempt at a handshake from your memory.”

  “Oh, so you don’t always try to shake new hire’s hands right after performing a vaginal exam?” I teased.

  “Definitely not.” He smirked and shook his head. “That was the first time I’ve ever tried that intimate of a welcome to the office.”

  “Wow,” I responded with a smirk. “I’m not sure if I should feel special or concerned.”

  I felt the rough vibration of his soft chuckle in my chest—and squeezed my legs together to stop the feeling from spreading to other places. “I guess it’s safe to say you’re never going to forget that, are you?”

  “Probably not.” I shrugged. Truthfully, the comedic value was too good. I’d likely be jazzing up this story to tell to my grandkids one day about how tough it was to be me. My version of walking both directions uphill in the snow, to school, barefoot. “But, in the name of getting into my new boss’s good graces, I’m willing to allow a do-over,” I added with a smile and held out my hand toward him. “Hi, Dr. Cummings, I’m Melody Marco. Your new nurse.”

  He took my hand in his and grinned. “It’s nice to meet you, Melody. And please, just call me Will.”

  “It’s nice to meet you too, Will,” I said and instantly loved the feel of his first name sliding off of my tongue.

  His grin grew wider and finally gave way to one of the best smiles I’d ever seen in my life. A smile was one of those things that was so universal even an infant knew it by heart. A smile could tell you a lot about someone. And with the way Will’s smile encompassed his lips and his cheeks and his ocean-blue eyes, my gut instinct told me he was a down-to-earth guy at heart. Maybe a little awkward at times. Definitely sexy as hell underneath that white exam coat. But
I had a feeling he was one of the good ones. The kind of guy every woman searches for and only a few have the luck to find.

  I wanted to know him. Like really, really know him.

  And see him naked. Don’t forget you want to know him naked.

  Jesus. I blushed at my mind’s brief detour into the gutter. It was one thing to be intrigued by someone, but it was a whole other ball game when you were fighting your brain’s desire to picture that person sans clothes.

  “Thank you for obliging me with a do-over, even if it was under the pretense of extortion. I feel a lot better about our introduction now,” he said with a little wink. “Now, seeing as it’s your first day on the job, I want to make sure you feel at home here. Do you have any questions for me? Is there anything I can show you?”

  Your penis.

  Oh. My. God. Even though the words never crossed my lips, the shock of them flooding my head made my eyes go wide and my lungs forget how to maintain the normal flow of oxygen in and out. Saliva clogged my throat, and I couldn’t stop the fit of choking coughs that followed.

  Had I really just thought the words your penis?

  As in yes, please, Will, show me your penis?

  Holy hell, I was a pervert. A total fucking pervert.

  “Are you okay?” he asked in concern when the coughs continued for an uncomfortably long time. “Do you need some water?”

  I need more than just water, I thought to myself. A lobotomy. A new job—preferably one where my boss doesn’t make my brain think about his penis.

  I nodded in response because it was literally the only thing I could do. For one, speech wasn’t really feasible between the coughs, and two, I feared if speech were an option, I’d blurt out something ridiculous about his balls. I mean, if Penis was stop one, my train was two short chugs away from pulling into Testicle Station.

  He pulled a fresh bottle of water from his drawer and slid it across his desk.

  I took it willingly, and thankfully, the slightly cool liquid managed to clear my throat and calm my lungs.

  “Better?” he asked, and I nodded again.

  “Thank you,” I said when I felt confident enough to use words and set the bottle onto his desk. “I swear, I normally have the whole breathing and talking thing down without dying.”

  He chuckled at that. “Kind of like how I don’t normally try to shake hands right after performing a pap smear?”

  Hmm. I guess he makes a point. I smiled. “Yeah. Kind of like that.”

  “Did Betty show you around this morning?”

  “No.” Will’s brow furrowed in confusion, so I explained further. “Actually, she had Marlene show me around.”

  He sighed and shook his head. “Yeah. That’s not going to work. I’ll make sure Betty takes the time to show you around and then has another nurse give you an actual orientation.”

  Obviously, Marlene’s give-no-fucks attitude wasn’t something new.

  The overhead vents inside his office creaked and groaned, and suddenly, the room started to fill with hot air. And it wasn’t the good kind of hot air. It was like ten times hotter than a sauna kind of hot air. It didn’t take long for my pores to respond to the desert-like warm temperature.

  “Christ,” Will cursed under his breath. “Can you give me a minute?”

  I nodded.

  Picking up the phone on his desk, he tapped one of the speed dial buttons. “Harry,” he greeted. “How’s it going?”

  I tried to ignore the heat while he continued with this phone call, but eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to de-layer or else I’d find myself in another awkward situation of fainting in his office.

  Be proactive—that was my goal.

  “That’s great, man. I’m glad to hear it,” he responded into the receiver. “Listen, I’m still having issues with the temperature in my office. The vents are blowing more heat than the sun. I can actually feel my skin shriveling.”

  He was right. Not even lizards could live like this. Good God, it’s hot. I moved into survival mode, removing my button-up scrub jacket and sliding up the sleeves of my long-sleeve white shirt. Even though the room was still insanely hot, I sighed in relief from the slight decrease in temperature less clothing had allowed. Anything was something when the vents in Will’s office were on a mission to kill us both via heatstroke.

  “Okay, perfect,” he said and looked toward me for a brief moment. His eyes went wide, and he blinked several times before hurriedly moving his gaze in the complete opposite direction of the room. “Yes… No… Shit… I’m sorry, what did you just say, Harry?” he stuttered into the phone.

  What the hell?

  Will’s eyes moved toward me again, and his reaction only got more absurd when he nearly dropped the receiver in his hand.

  Okay…seriously…what was happening? Did I have something on my face? Did I have pit stains from sitting inside the office that could now be used as an actual steam room?

  Surreptitiously, I glanced down at my shirt. I wished the reason for his hysteria had been less obvious, but it wasn’t. Not even a little. There for all to see were my braless boobs—underneath a white shirt no less. I didn’t know if I should sprint from his office like my ass was on fire or crawl under the desk and curl up in the fetal position.

  How in the hell had I forgotten to put on a bra this morning?

  I wasn’t the kind of girl who just free-boobed without a care in the world. Hell, I only ever free-boobed in the privacy of my own home.

  Could this day get any worse?

  A part of me wanted to say that there was no way anything could top this, but then again, I’d naïvely thought the whole vaginal-fluid-handshake thing was the climax of awkward. It wasn’t. Not even close. The true peak of embarrassment had just officially occurred—with my nipples on display like donuts beneath a clear-glass cabinet in a bakery shop.

  Quickly, I tossed my scrub top back on and stood up from my chair once navy blue was securely over areolas and white. Will watched as though my breasts were a car wreck before jerking roughly away and staying gone.

  “Uh…” I fumbled for something feasible to say that would allow me to exit Will’s office. “I’m going to go see if…Betty can give me a walking tour… Yeah…I’m going to go see Betty…” I stammered. Will nodded with the phone still firmly pressed to his ear, but his eyes never met mine or me.

  I couldn’t blame him.

  My first day on the job and I’d inadvertently given my boss a peep show.

  Happy motherfucking first day of work, Mel.

  For the past week and a half, I’d been doing my best to avoid the one woman I thought I wouldn’t be trying to avoid at all.

  After the Vagina-gate and Nipple-ghazi scandals of Melody’s first day, neither one of us had been able to do more than mutter a few words to one another while studiously avoiding looking into each other’s eyes. In fact, direct eye contact felt like a solar eclipse—stare too intently and one of our special parts would pop out and blind the other before they had the chance to look away.

  But, as one might imagine, avoiding someone you work with wasn’t without failings.

  “Dr. Cummings?”

  I lifted my head from the prescription on my desk and looked straight into the hazel-green eyes of the woman herself.

  See? Hard to avoid.

  Looking away quickly and back to my desk, I scribbled my signature and concentrated on simultaneously seeing what she wanted as best I could. “Yes?”

  “Your next patient is in exam room two, and your two thirty is early. Do you want me to go ahead and bring her back or wait?”

  “You can bring her back.” Without meaning to, I looked up, and everything about her sharp gaze hit me right in the gut. Soft auburn-brown hair back in a respectable ponytail and creamy peach skin peeking out from the professional V-neck of her scrub top were the perfect complements to the enthralling green-gold color of her eyes.

  God, she’s pretty.

  Shit. I was star
ing. I nearly knocked over the cup of pens on the corner of my desk in my haste to look away. Thankfully, she ignored the ensuing scramble to catch them.

  Eyes back to my desk in protection, I spoke again. “It always seems like people are happier to wait in the actual room than out in the waiting room.”

  A brief pause settled between us, but I fought against its urging to look up at her again. Was she staring at me now? What was she thinking?

  “You got it.”

  I lifted my gaze as soon as she turned and watched her take a few steps down the hall before forcing myself to look away again.

  I didn’t want her to feel unwelcome, but I didn’t want to make it harder on her either.

  Fuck, being awkward sucked. I didn’t know how my sister Georgia had done it her whole life.

  Ripping the prescription from my pad, I held it up to give it a once-over before taking it to the front desk for the patient checking out.

  And thank fuck I did.

  Because there, scrawled in my handwriting for all to see, were the words: God, Melody Marco is pretty as fuck.

  Good going, Will. There’s something that’ll help your reputation.

  Melody met me outside the door to my next patient’s room and handed me her file. I opened it quickly to double-check the name. Linwood, Colleen.

  “Knock, knock,” I called as I rapped my knuckles against the door.

  “Come in,” Mrs. Linwood invited, and I turned the handle to oblige.

  She was just about my mother’s age, but she still hadn’t hit menopause. Unfortunately, her periods were needlessly heavy and a huge burden we’d been fighting for the past couple of years. Cryoablation hadn’t helped adequately, so today we’d be seriously discussing the merits of doing a hysterectomy.

  “Hi, Mrs. Linwood,” I greeted.

  I smiled my normal smile, but I could tell as soon as she didn’t return it that this wasn’t going to be as pleasant as our previous appointments had been. I mean, the subject matter and her suffering were never exactly a good time, but she was always sweet to me and pleasant to chat with.