by J. P. Oliver
I looked at Jason, and my heart lurched at the disappointment etched on his handsome features. He glanced away as if trying to hide his reaction.
I lowered my head, trying to catch his gaze again. “There’s no way Mr. Ward was talking about me. You know that, right?”
Jason shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I’m an expert at playing second fiddle to the great Mark Johnson.” He smiled, trying to make light of it, but I could tell he was devastated.
“Rosenfeld wouldn’t let me get a word in,” I said, wincing inwardly at the defensiveness in my own voice. I didn’t want to feel defensive because that meant I’d probably done something wrong.
“Yeah, well, you’re pretty good at interrupting. When you want to be.” The pointed look he shot in my direction sank in deep.
“Is that an accusation?”
“Just an observation. But if the shoe fits…”
“I can’t believe you just said that. You know I support you. We’re a team, for God’s sake. Partners in crime.”
Jason scoffed. “I don’t hear you telling Rosenfeld that. When he comes around singing your praises, you just give him that infuriating Aw, shucks look, and he eats it up like candy.”
I glanced around to make sure the man wasn’t still lurking around somewhere, then turned back to Jason. “Rosenfeld is a kiss-ass, J. Everyone knows it. He thinks if he throws some compliments at me, he’ll get a big ol’ pat on the back from my father and the rest of the Board of Directors. Why do you even care what a guy like that thinks of you?”
“Why do I care? Are you fucking serious right now?” Jason’s fists clenched at his sides, and he looked like a powder keg ready to blow. “I care because he’s my boss. And because we’re on the last leg of our residency, and I need this job. And because not all of us have rich parents and a guaranteed future as the CEO of a successful pharmaceuticals company. Some of us have to work for a living. Is that enough for you, because I can come up with more.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “No. Jeez, keep your voice down. I get it, okay? I had no idea you felt that way. I just figured everybody knew he was kissing my ass to get in good with my father. It’s a little awkward, to be honest. I imagined everyone was snickering behind my back about it.”
“Snickering,” Jason said bitterly. “Maybe you find it funny, but I certainly don’t. Not when it’s my job on the line.”
I opened my mouth with a half-baked apology on my tongue, but what came out was not anything close to an apology. It was the sullen retort of a child who had been caught red-handed but still couldn’t admit he was guilty. “It’s not like I do it on purpose.”
Jason shrugged again and stared at his hands. “Whatever. I need to get going.” He stood and started walking toward the door.
“Hey,” I called after him. When he turned to look at me, I said, “I hate it when we fight.” But the line that had earned me a smile just a few minutes before now fell flat on the air between us.
“Shut up,” he said. And this time, I was pretty sure he meant it.
By the next day, Jason seemed to have forgotten the incident with Dr. Rosenfeld, and I couldn’t have been more relieved. He showed up to our regular tennis date at Belle Meade Country Club with a smile on his face. The form-fitting joggers he wore were sexy as hell on his frame, but I couldn’t help wishing it were warmer weather so I could watch the flex of his thighs and calves as we played. Jason Whitham in shorts was a work of art.
After our game, we went to the locker room, where we always showered and changed before heading home. Tennis at the country club had been my workout of choice for years, but Jason had started accompanying me a little over a year ago—shortly after he’d transferred into our residency program. It had taken some convincing on my part because Jason had never been a member of a country club before, but he’d finally caved and joined. He never took part in the dinners and events held there. Tennis was it for him, but he seemed to enjoy our time together on the courts as much as I did.
“We ought to start playing golf together,” I said as I rummaged in my duffel bag for my jeans and sweater.
Jason stopped digging for his own clothes and stared at me, horrified. “Mark, I can’t play golf. Like I have literally never been on a golf course.”
I shrugged. “I can teach you. It’s really all about form, and you have a natural physicality. When you play tennis, your form is textbook perfect. If you can learn that, you can learn golf.”
“But I don’t have any clubs,” he said. “Aren’t they… expensive?”
“They can be, but you can use mine while you’re learning. Then if you like it enough to continue, you can build a quality set slowly. Buy a nice driver, then some woods, and then the irons. There are some cheap sets out there, but I wouldn’t recommend skimping on your clubs, and especially not your driver.”
He seemed to consider it for a moment.
“Did I hear someone say golf?” Kaden Grimes grinned as he swaggered into the room, all muscles and nineteen-year-old testosterone. Everything about the kid screamed athlete, and for good reason. He’d been the quarterback of his high school football team, and he dabbled in every sport there was.
“Yeah,” I said. “I was trying to talk Jason into playing golf with me.”
Jason blushed. “I’ve never played. Mark offered to teach me, but I don’t want to be a burden.”
Kaden smiled, and every muscle in his six-foot-four frame seemed to flex with pride. “I can teach you. I’m an assistant golf pro at the club course.”
“Of course, you are,” I muttered, instantly recognizing my petty jealousy and feeling ashamed. Kaden’s peacocking got on my nerves sometimes, especially when he was aiming it at Jason, but he was a nice kid. He’d grown up in Belle Meade Country Club same as me, so I’d known him since he was in diapers and I was collecting Power Rangers action figures.
“That would be—” Jason glanced at me. “Well, maybe I could take some lessons from you before I go out with Mark. Just so I don’t slow him down too much.”
Kaden’s smile got impossibly brighter. “I’ve never taught a doctor before. That would be awesome. I’ll even give you a couple of lessons on the house.”
“Will I have to have my own clubs?” Jason asked.
“Just a driver for the first lesson or two.”
“I told you I’d let you use mine,” I said irritably. “I’ll go with you to your lessons. Maybe I’ll pick up some pointers by watching.”
Kaden’s smile faded a bit, but he recovered quickly. “Okay. When would be a good time for you? I’m on the course every Saturday and Sunday.”
“Let me think about it,” Jason said. “I work a lot, and I’m not sure what the schedule looks like next week.” He glanced at me. “We work a lot of weekends.”
“Tell you what,” Kaden said. “Let’s exchange numbers, and you can text me when you know your schedule. I may be able to fit you in during the week.” He bit his lip.
Fucking Christ, the kid was really going for it. What he didn’t know is that Jason was private as hell, and he wouldn’t dare give his number out. Besides, why did Kaden need his number, anyway? It didn’t even make good sense. Jason was the one who was supposed to call.
“Okay,” Jason said, pulling his cell phone out of his duffel bag as Kaden hurried to the other side of the room to fish his out of his locker.
“Really?” I said where only Jason could hear.
A blush crept up Jason’s cheeks. “What?” he mouthed silently just before Kaden returned with his cell.
“You first,” Kaden said, thumbing the number into his phone as Jason rattled it off. “Gonna text you now.” His thumbs flew over the keyboard at a speed only androids and teenagers could pull off.
Jason’s phone chimed, and I couldn’t help looking over his shoulder at the message. It said, I’d love to let you use my driver, but it’s really long. He followed it up with a winky face.
Oh my God. Why hadn’t he just gone ahead a
nd added an eggplant emoji? It took every ounce of control I had not to jump on Kaden and start swinging. He had three inches of height and at least thirty pounds of muscle on me, and he would have beaten my ass into the ground, but I wanted so badly to knock that cocky smile off of his face.
Jason smiled, suddenly looking shy, and if I’d thought he’d been blushing before, it had nothing on the red stain his cheeks were sporting now. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m sure Mark’s driver will be adequate. I’m only an inch shorter than him.”
Adequate. Could he possibly have chosen a less sexy, more emasculating word?
I chuckled darkly and headed to the showers, needing to get away from this weirdly insulting innuendo fest. I stripped down and turned on the water, checking the temperature with my fingers before stepping under the spray. Goosebumps broke out over my skin then faded away as I settled into the bone-heating bliss only a warm shower could bring. I dispensed a puddle of my two-in-one body wash and shampoo into my hand and ran it through my sweaty hair.
“I guess our golf thing is on,” Jason said as he entered the shower room.
I peeked over my shoulder and watched as he unveiled his perfect body. The tight muscles honed from hours on the tennis courts, firm pecs with a light sprinkling of chest hair, flat abdomen with just the right amount of definition to hint at a six-pack, and enticing bubble butt. His soft cock lay nestled in a bed of brown pubes the same color as the lowlights in his dark blond hair.
Before he could step into the shower space beside mine and start the water, I turned to face him, soaping my hair. My cock had just begun to stiffen I could feel it hanging thickly between my legs.
“Jason,” I said.
Jason’s gaze shifted to me, and I saw his eyes eating up every inch of my body before he got himself in check. “Yes?” he asked, his voice strained.
“Just for the record, my driver is more than adequate.”
And finally, I was able to draw the same blush to his cheeks that Kaden had. Jason’s eyes flickered involuntarily down to my heavy cock, and a strangled laugh escaped his throat. He hurried into his own shower and didn’t look in my direction again until we were fully dressed.
“So, are you going to the New Year’s party?” he asked on our way out of the building.
“Of course,” I said. “Are you going? Last year, you told me you’d go, and then you never showed up.”
Jason shrugged. “I was the new guy last year, so I was a little nervous about going.”
“You weren’t that new,” I pointed out. “You’d already been working with us for six months.”
“It takes me a while to warm up to people, I guess.”
“Well, you’re plenty warm this year, so there’s no excuse. I expect to see you there, or else.”
Shock and amusement warred on Jason’s face. “Are you threatening me?”
“Maybe.” We had reached my Porsche in the parking lot. I pulled open the door and slung my duffel bag into the passenger seat, then turned back to Jason with a grin. “Just go to the party, Jason. I don’t think you want to risk incurring my wrath.”
Jason kept walking toward his old Toyota, which was parked two spaces down. “Wrath,” he repeated with a chuckle. “I might skip the party just to see what kind of punishment you come up with.”
As Jason climbed into his Toyota and started the engine, I couldn’t help thinking how sweet it would be to exact a certain kind of punishment on my favorite resident.
3
Jason
The hospital New Year’s Eve party was being held in one of the large conference rooms at the Marriott Hotel. I’d spent the early part of the evening at a small get-together in my apartment building, then rushed off at ten thirty to ring in the new year with my co-workers. The room was pretty crowded when I got there, and I had to wonder how the hospital was functioning with so many of us absent.
“Jason, you finally showed up!” Jolene Starr tottered up to me on ridiculously high heels, a plastic champagne cup clutched in one hand. Her blue party dress contrasted beautifully with her long red hair, which she’d worn loose instead of twisted into her usual braid, and flecks of silver glitter sparkled on the pale skin of her chest.
“Hi, Jolene.” I ran my thumb across her smooth forehead and wiped away a rogue speck of glitter. “You look nice tonight. Very festive.”
About six months after I’d started working at Vanderbilt, Jolene had confessed that she’d worked as a stripper to put herself through nursing school. She’d come from a family with even less money than mine, and her father had been an alcoholic and abusive as hell. I wasn't sure of the exact nature of the abuse, and I hadn't wanted to push for such personal information.
Needless to say, Jolene had wanted to put as much distance between herself and her father, so she'd left home the day after her high school graduation and hadn't looked back. But she soon found out that her grocery store cashier job wasn't going to pay her Bill's. Stripping was the only way she could afford the exorbitant tuition fees and the rent on her tiny studio apartment.
It had been hard for me to reconcile the image of Jolene as a stripper with the no-makeup, hair-in-a-braid picture she presented at work but seeing her this way—all sparkling and vivacious—I thought I understood. If she had any moves at all, she would have made a hell of a stripper.
Jolene grinned and spun around in a circle, giving me the full effect of her outfit. “Thanks. I have a date.”
“Oh, yeah?” I said absently. “That’s nice.”
I scanned the room and found Mark, and a tension I hadn’t even known I was holding inside of me loosened at the sight of him. He’d been wrangled into one corner of the conference room by a gaggle of tipsy nurses who were trying to put one of those party favor crowns on his head. He tossed his head around to shake the crown loose, and a lock of glossy dark hair fell across his forehead.
Jolene continued talking as if she had no idea how distracted I was. “My date is right over there,” she said. “His name is Steve, and he’s a bartender. Well, right now he’s between jobs because the bar he was working at had too many people, and they had to cut him. But he’s put in a bunch of applications around town, and he thinks he’s got a good shot at a couple of them. Bartenders make killer money in tips. I know that from my dancing days. Isn’t he just the hottest thing you’ve ever seen?”
In the corner, Mark was laughing and holding a bottle of beer high above his head to avoid spilling it. Even from across the room, I could see the sparkle in his dark brown eyes. It looked like he was having fun, whereas I was just stalking him from across the room like a loser.
“Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Jolene demanded.
“Huh?” I peeled my gaze away from Mark and focused my attention on Jolene.
She followed my line of sight, eyes settling on Mark, and gave a knowing smile. “I said, isn’t he just the hottest thing you’ve ever seen?"
I gulped, worried that maybe after all this time, I was being called out on my infatuation for Mark. “Who's hot?”
“My boyfriend, Steve. He’s over there getting drinks.” She gestured gracefully toward the bar.
A young man with shoulder-length black hair was pushed up to the bar, talking with the female bartender. At first, I thought I must be mistaken because he looked awfully cozy with the pretty blonde behind the bar. But there was no one else it could be.
“The guy with long black hair?” I asked just to be sure.
“Yeah,” Jolene sighed. “He is so damn fine he makes my panties go up in flames every time I look at him. Don’t you think so?”
“He’s very…” Flirtatious? Rude? “Uh, good-looking. He's got that whole bad-boy vibe going on.”
Jolene beamed. “I know, right? I met him online. He’s a Gemini, and he likes strong, independent women. I’m strong and independent, right?” For a moment, she looked uncertain. "Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Am I strong and independent?"
Fondness for
the woman welled up inside me. Something about her clueless honesty triggered something inside me. Something warm and protective. “Yes, Jolene. You are very strong and independent. Stan is a very lucky man."
"Steve," she corrected.
"Well, whatever his name is, he's lucky to have you."
She smiled, and I thought I saw a blush creep across her skin beneath all of the glitter and makeup.
"So, what's your New Year's resolution?" She asked. "Mine is going to the gym twice a week. Gotta get rid of this gut." She pinched her nearly-flat belly. "Steve won't stick around long if I let myself go. A guy like that… He could have any girl he wants."
I glanced back to the bar, where Steve was very clearly getting his flirt on with the blonde. I wondered if Jolene was just ignoring that fact, or if she didn't care. Either way, it was none of my business.
"So, what's your New Year’s resolution?" she asked.
I waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not really the resolution type."
“But there must be something you want to do. Something you’ve been thinking about but haven’t done.”
Yeah, I thought. Kiss every inch of Mark Johnson’s body.
“Not really,” I said. “I’d like to buy a house, but that’s not in my budget right now.”
She tapped one of her long red nails against the side of her cup as if it would help her think. I knew they were press-ons because our nurses weren’t allowed to wear nails that long. Too easy to tear gloves. “A smaller goal, then,” she suggested.
Usually, I would be all about talking to Jolene, but right now I was too distracted. My obsession with Mark was only getting worse, and tonight it was nearly unbearable to watch him flirting and partying and knowing I could never have him.
“Look, Jolene, I really don’t—”
“Getting out more,” she interrupted with a triumphant smile. “That would be a great resolution for you. I know how much you residents work, and you’re always saying you don’t have time for a social life. It makes me feel so bad for you. Everybody needs to get out sometimes. Maybe you could make a resolution to set aside a few hours one day a week or something.”
