Heart Doctors Collection

by Carly Keene

  “Good,” Rachel says. “C’mon there, Chief, give Daddy another hug and let’s get on the road.”

  James’s small arms are warm and fierce around my neck, then I set him down. “Rach, you ever think about just letting the kid ride the school bus?”

  She scoffs. “This school district’s pretty mixed in terms of demographics, bro. Do you really want him riding the bus with foul-mouthed teenagers?”

  My face probably shows my distaste at the idea. He’s too young now to learn all the four-letter words that he’ll certainly learn by the time he’s a teenager himself.

  Rachel laughs, and opens the door. “I didn’t think so. Bye!”

  “Bye!” James echoes, and then they’re gone.

  I’m so tired, all I want is a shower and my bed. Out of habit, I make the shower a quick one, five minutes tops, and collapse onto my bed after a cursory towel-drying. I close my eyes, preparing for sleep, but as usual, my brain decides to make a tour of last night’s shift. It spins through blood and torn muscles and x-ray films, stops briefly on Kalinda White, spins again through the tiled floors and the bright lights, and stops again on Kalinda.

  Her aquamarine eyes. Strawberry-blonde curls, pink cheeks, wide smile. That upside-down-heart ass.

  I’m instantly hard. Without planning it, I slide my hand down to grip my cock and give it a squeeze.

  Kalinda.

  What would it be like, having her hands on my cock instead of my own . . . What would it be like to have her under me, moaning in pleasure, as I plunge inside her again and again . . . Hot, sweet, wet, tight . . .

  It doesn’t take me long, stroking one out to thoughts of her lush body and sweet smile. My last thought before I wipe off with the towel and collapse into sleep is that I need to ask her again. Her beautiful mouth said no, but the invitation in her eyes said hell yes.

  My phone alarm goes off at 5 p.m. I stretch, feeling my wake-up woody brush against the sheets, and I think about jerking off again to more thoughts of Kalinda White naked and willing in my bed.

  Then my door bangs open, and it’s James. “Daddy? Are you up yet?”

  Seems like I’m always “up” when I’m thinking about Kalinda, I realize wryly, though that’s already changing. There’s nothing like a little boy in the room to douse a good erection. “Yep, bud. Gimme a minute to go to the bathroom and get dressed, okay?” I toss the sheets back and get out of bed.

  “Wow,” James says. “Your weiner is really big.” He looks down at himself. “Mine is small.”

  I cover my smile. “Well, you’re a small person. When you get bigger, it will too.”

  He follows me into the bathroom and chatters away about school, and the time his class spent preparing to sing at the meeting this evening. “And I know the words perfect, Daddy. I don’t forget any of ‘em.”

  “Good for you, bud. Think I better shave?”

  He shrugs. “Aunt Rachel is making sketti and meatballs for dinner, too.”

  “Excellent, I’m hungry.” I scoop him up under my arm and carry him down to the kitchen, both of us laughing.

  Later, I find a seat on the wooden bleachers of Hopedale Elementary, looking around at the mixed bag of people in the tiny gym. Moms in yoga pants or business attire, dads in khakis and button-downs, or lube-shop shirts with their first names embroidered on the pocket. Grannies in elastic-waist pants. Teachers in work clothes. I’m glad I chose my softest jeans and a flannel shirt over my well-worn Linkin Park tee.

  One of the grannies accidentally bangs me in the shoulder with her purse as she makes her way past me, and it makes her teeter. I reach out to steady her, and she clings onto my arm until she can take a seat on the row above me. She thanks me, I say it was no trouble, and we exchange smiles. When I turn back to the front, there she is: Kalinda.

  Our eyes meet, and a smile as surprised as my own blooms across her face. She heads right for me, and I move to make room. Why is she here?

  “Hi,” she says when she gets up to my row. “Hi, Doc—um, Noah.” She sits next to me, her color high. “My little brother and sister are in the program tonight.”

  Ah. Siblings. “My son is absolutely thrilled to be singing,” I tell her, unable to keep my amusement down. “He treated me to a preview in the car. The whole ride over here was one nonstop rendition of ‘The Rainbow Connection’, if you can imagine it.”

  “Are you kidding?” she says, grinning at me. “We heard it all through dinner.”

  “Who’s ‘we’?” I can’t believe I’ve never asked her about her family.

  She looks down, picking at her fingertips. Her nails are short but beautifully manicured, polished a wine color that looks great with her dark gray long-sleeved tee and faded skinny jeans. It takes her a minute to look back up at me. “Oh—my family,” she says offhand, in a way that says that the facts are not offhand at all. “My mom and her kids.” She shrugs, and everything about her body language says that she’s making the best of something that isn’t good. “There’s my baby sister Kandace, with a K. In fact, we all have K names.” She smiles again, and this time it’s a little softer than her usual sparkle. “Kandace is in 2nd grade. Korey’s in 4th. Then there’s Kollin, and he’s a senior in high school. And then me.” Her shoulders are drawn in, but she straightens them and lifts her chin. “So you have a son?”

  I tell her about James. “He’s six. He’s adorable and sweet and funny, and he drives me nuts. As far as I can tell,” I say, “that’s totally normal.” She laughs a little, but her eyebrows are drawn together. “I’m widowed,” I say. “James was almost two when his mom died.”

  She nods, thoughtfully. We sit there together, through the incredibly boring business meeting about fundraising. I can’t stop thinking about her mouth, her smile, her body. I can’t stop wondering what she’d be like underneath me.

  But then the 1st and 2nd graders get up to sing, and I tell my dick very sternly to knock it the fuck off and calm down so I can enjoy this. It does. I do. James sings with his whole body—little head bobbing, knees bouncing—and it’s so adorable that I wish Abby could be here to see it.

  After the 4th graders have given us a short skit about George Washington, the meeting is dismissed and James makes a beeline for me, literally clambering over Kalinda to jump into my lap. I chastise his manners, and he apologizes, tucking his silky dark head underneath my chin. “You look so much like your dad,” she tells him, and he smiles shyly.

  When Kalinda introduces her siblings to me, I find it interesting that they seem unrelated in appearance. Korey, age ten, is tall for his age and already built like a bear, with textured dark hair and an impressive nose he hasn’t quite grown into yet. Kandace has long silky-straight brown hair and blue-gray eyes, and is every bit the flirt that Kalinda is. They’re adorable.

  Korey is clamoring for ice cream, as a reward for memorizing all his lines, and then a tall gangly teenager with kinky hair and cafe-au-lait skin comes up to the group. Handsome, despite the zits, and he’ll grow out of those. “I got the groceries,” he says to Kalinda, “and here’s your credit card back. Guys, come on, let’s go or the ice cream will melt.” He starts herding the other kids out the door, in a hurry.

  Kalinda looks back over her shoulder at me. “That’s Kollin,” she says, “and I have to go. Nice seeing you.”

  FOUR

  Kalinda

  Noah’s kid is so cute, and he’s got the same nice manners his dad does.

  For a minute there, I was starting to feel like I’d been played—did Noah think I wouldn’t care that he was married with children? But as it turns out, he’s single.

  And probably lonely, my ladyparts suggest. They’re enthusiastic about fixing that for him.

  I can’t trust them, though, because they’ve been single for a long time too. I wasted a couple of good teenage years running around with the wrong crowd: smoking, drinking, doing the occasional recreational drug and pursuing recreational sex far more seriously. I went on the pill at seventeen
and never looked back. Mom never busted me, although I dropped plenty of clues. But by the time I got into community college, I had no time for recreational sex.

  And then I started working, and I had even less time for recreational sex. About the only thing I can manage these days is a long hot bath, with busy fingers, before I try to catch some sleep in the bedroom I share with my baby sister.

  Tonight, though, Kandy’s out like a light after the excitement, and my ladyparts are still buzzing from sitting so close to Dr. Noah Bonner, he of the long lean six-pack torso, the strong hands, the muscled ass, the dark sparkling eyes . . . And I can’t stop thinking about him. About that Adonis-belt of muscle diving toward his groin. About what it would feel like to kiss him and run my hands all over him.

  About what it would feel like to straddle him and ride him like my personal palomino.

  I stifle a moan in my bed, and give up, peeling off my panties. They’re so damp they’re clinging to me, because every second I spent sitting thigh-to-thigh with Noah on the bleachers was sweet torture. His clean smell, like pine and sandalwood and warm skin, was as intoxicating as all the beers I sneaked as a stupid teenager at once.

  My nipples are diamond hard, just from thinking about him.

  I tease them with one hand, then let my other hand slide down between my thighs, right into the wetness of my cunt. Oh yes. I let myself go, imagining Noah’s beautiful mouth on me, his tongue on my clit. I turn my head and pant into my pillow, letting my fingers roll and plunge and rub, letting them pretend to be Noah’s fingers and tongue and cock, and the orgasm hits me like a kickball to the stomach, making me grunt. Making my hips rise off the bed to absorb the impact. Fuck, I whisper as the aftershocks subside.

  It wouldn’t be enough if he was with me, but it’s enough to let me sleep.

  The way our schedules work at the hospital, there are two teams: blue and yellow. (Hospital colors.) Blue will be on days for three months, and Yellow on nights. Then we switch. Further, each team has subteams A and B. A starts out working a twelve-hour shift Monday-Wednesday-Friday-Sunday the first week, and then Tuesday-Thursday-Saturday the second week. You’re working either 36 hours a week, or 48, depending.

  Nobody loves the first two weeks of the quarter, because you’re trying to adjust to a new sleep schedule. It sucks. So early into this quarter, I’m still struggling to get enough sleep. But I get up on Friday and go in to work a little before 6 p.m., according to my work schedule, looking forward to seeing Noah. I even enter through the ER instead of the door closer to Radiology, because I might get a glimpse of him that way.

  Nope.

  I hang up my jacket and stick my lunch in the fridge, say goodnight to my colleagues on the B team going off duty, and check the online system for radiology appointments scheduled in the early evening: nothing. Looks like it’ll be emergencies only.

  When I turn around, Noah’s standing in the door with a colorful bouquet. “For you,” he says, and I can feel the blush spreading across my face as my uncontrollable grin does, too.

  “Thanks.” I bury my nose in the fragrant flowers to hide my excitement. Laura passes by me in the hall, giving me and Noah an avid glance. Great. By midnight everybody will know about this.

  Noah watches her go, then turns back to me. “Guess we’re busted now.” He gives me one of his beautiful smiles. “I don’t think I care. Do you?” I shake my head. “So do you want to go to dinner tomorrow night?”

  “I’d love it.”

  “Xavier’s? Pick you up at seven?”

  I catch my breath. “Xavier’s is maybe out of my price range,” I admit.

  “I’ll cover the bill,” he says softly. “I think you’d love it there.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I invited you, I pay,” he reminds me, and I can feel my cheeks go hot all over again. “If you’d rather go somewhere else that’s fine, but please don’t worry about money. I’d love to take you.” The heat in his gaze makes my body want to melt into his, and my breath comes fast.

  I’m unable to speak, so I just nod.

  Seven tomorrow. Dinner with Noah. I can’t wait.

  FIVE

  Noah

  At half past six on Saturday night, I am freshly showered, shaved, cologned, sharply dressed, fully prepared, and more than eager for my first date with lovely Kalinda. She’d wanted to meet me at the restaurant instead of having me pick her up, and although I’m disappointed not to see where she lives, I figure there’s time enough for all that.

  I hug Rachel and James goodnight. For James, this is no big deal; with my job, I’m gone a lot anyway, and one more night isn’t something memorable for him. All the same, he squeezes me tight. “’Night, Daddy, see you tomorrow.”

  Rachel, though—Rachel knows that this is the first time I’ve been out with someone since Abby died. Her eyes look worried. “You sure you’re okay?” I nod. “I want to meet her,” she says under her breath, while sending James to wash his hands for dinner.

  I just nod again. I point to the wedding picture on the wall, Abby looking elegant and joyous in white chiffon and me looking so much younger than I am now. “Think James might like to have that in his room?”

  Rachel’s eyes go wide with surprise, and then she smiles. It’s sad, but understanding. “I think he might, yes. It’s really time, Noah?”

  “It’s really time,” I say, and my voice is husky.

  “Good,” Rachel says, and hers is too. “Have a great time.”

  Xavier’s parking lot is busy when she pulls in, but I’m quick to open the door for her. “You look beautiful.”

  She smiles shyly, and takes my arm. “Thank you. You look sharp, too.”

  “In your honor. I can’t match you.”

  We leave our coats at the coat-check and follow the maitre d’ to our table. I’ve never seen her look more gorgeous. Her red-gold hair, softly curled on her shoulders, shines in the light. Her long legs stretching up from strappy heels. Her modest but curve-conscious navy dress, and the delicate silver bangles on her wrists—it’s all a sparkling package, but nothing sparkles more than her eyes.

  The candlelight on our table just points up how gorgeous she is. There’s a feeling in my stomach almost like fear, and then lust takes over. I could no more keep my cock from getting hard than I could keep the sun from coming up. All the time that we’re choosing appetizers and entrees and wine, all the time that we’re talking about work and the PTO program last night, all the time that we’re eating our meal and looking into each other’s eyes, I keep building up a longing for her body. For us together. I think I could be with her forever. I want her so much.

  I think she wants me too. It’s in the way that she looks at me. Her nipples are visible through the dress. I’m so hard for her that I’m grateful for the tablecloth.

  But for all this lust, the conversation is easy and feels honest. I talk about my parents a little, how Dad insisted that I give up cross country in high school so I could concentrate on my grades, and how awful it was for both me and Rachel that he didn’t seem to care about hers. About how, once I got into chemistry and biology, I loved it, and how I didn’t even care anymore that medicine was Dad’s choice, because it had become mine. About how I’m determined to make James investigate areas of study but choose what he wants, and about how I’m determined to be a more affectionate father than my own has always been.

  Kalinda talks a little about how each of her siblings has a different father, and how none of them have ever been involved longer than a year or so. She shrugs, giving off a no-big-deal attitude, but I think maybe she’s toning her feelings down so she won’t come off looking needy.

  I won’t have that.

  I lean across the table to take her hand, and that’s when I see the ring on it, a silver semicolon that tells me she’s older in spirit than in years. For half a second, it makes me sad that such a beautiful young woman has struggled, and then I remember reading the words that inspired me to get my own tattoo: A
semicolon is used when an author could’ve chosen to end their sentence, but chose not to. The author is you and the sentence is your life.

  “I like your ring,” I say softly, and her gaze flies to my face. I show her my left hand, where I had a semicolon tattooed on my inner wrist. “I did worry a little bit that having a visible tattoo might make patients see me as less competent, but—” I shrug. “Maybe some of them need to see that it’s okay to go through tough times, that I survived and they can too. To me that’s more important than the possibility of offending people.”

  A tiny smile has crept over her face. “That’s really thoughtful.” There’s a long pause while we look into each other’s eyes.

  I want her more than I have ever wanted her, and that’s saying something. It goes deeper than heart-shaped ass and insistent hard-on, but it definitely goes through that territory. I adjust myself in my suit pants yet again.

  Dessert menus arrive, and I suggest the raspberry cheesecake. She looks undecided, and then she sets the menu down. “What I’d really like,” she says, and puts her hand on my tattooed wrist, “is to go somewhere we can be alone.”

  To make love, my desperate body immediately tells me, and my eyes nearly roll back in my head at the thought. “Yes,” I say.

  “I’d like to get my bag from my car,” she says, and my cock nearly rips my pants open. I just nod, and tell her I’ll pay the bill.

  We leave her car at Xavier’s and I drive us to the Jefferson Hotel.

  SIX

  Noah

  The Jefferson is possibly the grandest hotel in Richmond; it’s certainly the one with the most celebrated history. I could have taken her to any Marriott or Omni, but I want to do things right. Kalinda looks almost panicked in the lobby. “I’ve never been here,” she whispers at me, and tugs at my hand.