Healing Touch

by Rothert, Brenda

  I ROUNDED THE corner into Radiology and scanned my access card. The door opened and I caught a glance of the graying, bushy hair of Gary, the one guy I was hoping I wouldn’t run into tonight. He was an asshole with megalomania tendencies and I was in no mood.

  “About time,” he said, grimacing with aggravation. “Time is money in Radiology, you know. We’re backed up waiting for that bulb to be changed.”

  “Where’s the problem?” I asked.

  He pointed to a set of double doors. “The technician will show you which bulb is out. And then I need you to recalibrate another machine for me.”

  “Where is the new bulb?”

  He scoffed and shook his head. “Do I look like I know where the extra bulbs are kept? That’s not exactly in my pay grade.”

  I counted to three in my head before responding, which didn’t tame me much. “Yeah, it’s not in my pay grade either, but who really gives a shit? You’re supposed to call Maintenance for this, not Mechanical Services, but I’m here.”

  He huffed his aggravation. “Just get it done, alright?”

  “If I can find a bulb, I’ll change it,” I said. “If I can’t I’ll page Maintenance. And I’m not touching the machine that needs to be calibrated. You’ll have to call the manufacturer for that.”

  “How hard can it be?” He glared at me over the rim of his glasses.

  I shrugged. “I’m not doing it. It voids the warranty and that’s expensive equipment. Plus, I’ve got another project that I need to work on.”

  “Thanks for nothing,” he said.

  “Anytime.”

  It was all I could do not to flip the asshole off as I turned toward the double doors. When I got inside, a guy who looked about my age looked up from the screen of his smart phone.

  “Hey,” he said in greeting, standing up. “Thanks for coming. I assume you’re here to help with the bulb?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Cool. I’m Andy.”

  “Carson.”

  He led me to the machine in question and I took a mechanical screwdriver from my pocket to remove a panel.

  “Don’t want to go hang out with Gary?” I asked.

  His single note of laughter said it all. “Yeah, no. His wife left him not too long ago and none of us can stand to be around him anymore.”

  “Why would any woman leave such a charmer?”

  “I know, right?”

  I took the panel off and set it on the floor. “Can you hold these?” I passed him the screws.

  “So you’re the famous Carson?”

  I gave him a confused glance before reaching my arm inside the machine in search of the bulb.

  “Uh, no,” I said. “You must be talking about another Carson.”

  “I don’t think so. The female techs have been talking about what they could do to get the hot new Mechanical guy, Carson, up here.” He laughed. “They’re going to be mad when they hear you were up here tonight.”

  I frowned and grunted dismissively. The last thing I wanted was to encourage that sort of thing.

  After several turns, the bulb gave way and I pulled it out.

  Taking one look at it, Andy said, “We definitely don’t have a replacement for that here.”

  “I’m gonna run down to Maintenance with this,” I said. “Be back in a minute.”

  Andy nodded and returned to his chair to resume whatever it was he was doing on his phone.

  I got lucky, both in locating a replacement bulb and not running into Gary a second time when I returned to Radiology. The repair was done in two minutes. Andy thanked me and I left to get the tools I’d need for the OB project.

  It was unlikely I’d get back to the dilapidated old furnace tonight. I was a sucker for someone needing help, and the furnace could wait.

  I WAS FINISHING up an email to the kitchen confirming the snack trays I’d requested for tomorrow’s interviews when Hattie approached, giving me a look of concern.

  “Hey,” she said softly. “I need to talk to you.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Can we go into the break room?”

  “Sure,” I said, getting up from my chair.

  I tried to read her expression before she turned toward the small room that served as our break room. It contained a motley assortment of chairs, tables and an ancient refrigerator. It was ugly, but we all cherished it.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. Like me, Hattie worked a lot. She’d lost a few pounds recently and I was worried about her but hadn’t wanted to say anything.

  She closed the door behind us, scooting me away from the window.

  “You know I love you,” she said, putting her hands on my shoulders. Her blue eyes were wide with worry.

  “Of course, and I love you too. What’s going on?”

  She shook her head slightly. “There’s some news that just started running through this place like wildfire, and I want you to hear it from me, and not in front of a bunch of other people.”

  I laughed sarcastically. “Girl, you know I can take anything. It can’t be worse than Dean fucking Amanda while I was in the same building.”

  “She’s pregnant,” Hattie said. “They’re getting married next month.”

  I just looked at her for a couple seconds.

  “Really?” I finally said, giving her a skeptical look. “Are you sure it’s not just a rumor?”

  “They announced it to the ER staff right after you were down there.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Sorry I missed it.”

  “Seriously, Joss, are you okay?”

  “I’m . . . surprised, I guess. We dated for three years before we got married. And he said he didn’t want kids ‘til he was in his mid-thirties.”

  “Maybe it was an ‘accident,’” Hattie said, emphasizing the word with air quotes. “Maybe Amanda planned it so he’d be stuck with her.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest protectively. “Yeah, maybe. It does feel strange, I won’t deny that. Not because I want to be in her shoes. I don’t at all. I just . . .”

  Hattie pulled me close for a hug. “I know, sweetie. You don’t have to explain it to me.”

  I sighed deeply and hugged her back. “Thanks for telling me.”

  “Let’s go out as soon as we both have a night off,” she said. “We both need to blow off some steam. And maybe blow something else, too.”

  I laughed and pulled away to look at her mischievous expression. “That sounds great. The night out, I mean.”

  “Joss.” Hattie rolled her eyes and glared at me. “You need to get laid, girl.” Her eyes brightened and she grabbed my hand, leading me out of the break room. “C’mon. Let’s see what Magic 8 thinks.”

  I groaned my disapproval but couldn’t help smiling. Hattie and I had bonded immediately when I started working here. She was two years older than me, but we were kindred spirits in every way and she’d become my closest friend. We had a tradition of answering life’s questions, both big and small, with the Magic 8 ball she kept stashed in a cabinet at the main OB workstation.

  Hattie went straight for the cabinet and pulled out the worn black orb. Only Shayna, a nurse we both liked, was sitting at the workstation.

  “Magic 8,” Hattie said, shaking the ball, “does Joss need to get laid?”

  Shayna covered her mouth with her hand to suppress her laugh. There were no secrets around here—everyone knew I’d been celibate since Dean.

  A triumphant smile lit up Hattie’s face and she turned the ball toward me.

  “As I see it, yes,” I read out loud.

  Hattie arched her brows and smiled. “See? We’re going out this weekend.”

  “I work all weekend.”

  “Hmm. Next weekend, then.”

  I sighed. “Working then, too.”

  “Dammit, Joss,” Hattie said. “Why do you volunteer for every weekend?”

  “Every day is the same to me,” I said, shrugging. “Why not work so people with families can be home?”

  “We
’ll go out on a weeknight then,” she said. “This city is alive all the time anyway.”

  “I really appreciate the thought, but I’m not up for a one night stand. That’s just not me.”

  “Come on, Joss. I’m not saying unprotected sex with an ex-con or anything. Just—”

  I cut her off and looked at Shayna. “I’m not a one night stand girl, right? Tell her.”

  Shayna, a mom of five in her forties, gave me a sly smile. “I don’t know, Joss. Maybe with the right man. Just a night of fun. Why not?”

  Hattie gave me a shit-eating grin and shook the ball. “Magic 8,” she said in a tone so low only I could hear it, “if Joss goes out with me, will she meet a hot man with a huge cock who will give her multiple orgasms?”

  She read the answer and grinned even wider. “Most likely!”

  “You kill me,” I said, shoving her shoulder playfully.

  “Magic 8,” she said again, “will Nips and Dr. Dickhead have an ugly baby?”

  I burst out laughing this time at her outrageousness. She shook and groaned when the answer showed up. I looked at the display.

  “Don’t count on it,” I read before giving Hattie an admonishing look. “I want them to have a healthy, beautiful baby. Truly. I’m not the kind of person to want anything else.”

  “You’re a better woman than me,” she said, shaking the ball yet again. “Magic 8, will Nips gain lots of weight during this pregnancy?”

  I laughed again, heading back toward my research room.

  “You may rely on it!” Hattie called after me.

  I went into the stuffy room to take inventory of what I needed to prepare for tomorrow. While reaching for a clipboard, I caught a glimpse of myself in a full-length mirror and then turned back for a longer look.

  When Dean and I met in our college pre-med program, I’d been a vibrant, happy 20-year-old. The vibrancy had been diluted by years of med school and residency, and the departure of the man I thought I’d be with forever. And the happiness? It was still there, but it was different now. My happiness was something I kept inside, and it came entirely from my work and friends.

  I was supposed to be in my prime, but I wore my hair back in the same predictable ponytail whether I was working or not. “Dressed up” meant jeans instead of scrubs. Makeup? A distant memory.

  I’d gained ten or fifteen pounds since college, and as I stared at the tired-looking blonde in the mirror, I realized I was the textbook definition of letting yourself go. I sucked in my stomach and pushed up my cleavage, narrowing my eyes to blur the image a little. Could I still pass for a decent looking woman?

  I got my answer when I let go of my boobs and they fell back into place. Their perkiness was hanging out in the location of my former waistline.

  The sound of someone clearing their throat made me turn around. Oh, God. The hot maintenance guy had seen me feeling myself up. My cheeks burned as he raised a hand in greeting, avoiding my eyes.

  “I’m gonna get started,” he said in a gruff tone.

  “Uh . . . I was just trying to take an honest look at myself,” I said, running my ponytail through my fingers. It was my nervous habit, but right now I was wishing I had developed something more compelling. “You know, like, see what others see?”

  Carson took a drill out of a worn canvas workbag and searched through a box of silver drill bits. This was awkward. Not talking about me touching my own boobs was worse than talking about it. I wanted to explain myself.

  Crossing the room, I sat down in a metal chair near the spot where he was kneeling on the floor. He didn’t even look up.

  “Am I so bad?” I asked, the question as much for myself as for him. “Is no makeup and ten pounds and a permanent ponytail really such a deal-breaker?”

  His gaze flicked over mine before he gave me a glance that had uncomfortable written all over it.

  “Uh . . . I’m gonna need to move that chair so I can access the duct,” he said.

  I sprang up, my humiliation complete. He wanted me to leave so he could work. And he probably thought I was more than a little crazy.

  “Sure. I’m gonna go . . . do some stuff,” I said, pointing toward the door. “You know, work stuff.”

  I wasn’t going to do anything. The only thing I needed to do was set up this room, and I didn’t want to bother him by doing it while he was trying to work. Not to mention that I just couldn’t take any more of his impassive attitude.

  Heading back to the break room, I decided to kill time surfing the Internet on my phone. It was going to be a long night of waiting.

  PULLING A SMALL notebook from my canvas tool bag, I wrote down the dimensions of the duct opening and used my drill to screw the grate back on. I didn’t have a lot of experience with carpentry and ductwork; wiring and electrical repairs were more my speed. But this looked like a pretty simple fix, though it would take me several hours.

  As I headed around the corner and into the room, the sight of Dr. J. Drake stopped me in my tracks. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen the blonde doctor with the beautiful smile. I’d seen her a couple of times taking brief dinner breaks when I was working on a walk-in cooler in the hospital cafeteria. I’d never gotten close enough to read her name badge, but her name, “Dr. J. Drake,” was stitched onto the white coats she wore. And I’d wondered what the ‘J’ stood for.

  She was standing in front of a mirror, looking at herself and squeezing her tits. My cock stiffened in response. I should have turned away, or let her know I was there. I wasn’t being much of a gentleman, just standing and staring without her even knowing.

  But I indulged myself for a few seconds. Seeing the pretty, buttoned-up doctor who’d caught my eye in my first week here with her hands on her tits was just too damned good to pass up. I wished it were my hands on those round C cups. Followed by my mouth.

  My cock was completely hard now. I adjusted myself quickly and forced myself to clear my throat.

  “I’m gonna get started,” I said, avoiding her gaze. Her cheeks were bright pink with embarrassment, and damned if that wasn’t hot, too.

  “I was just trying to take an honest look at myself,” she said in a rush. “You know, see what others see?”

  All I knew was what I saw. A woman so beautiful she made me forget how much fucking trouble women were.

  Without a clue as to what to say, I kneeled by the spot where I planned to cut into the vent and distracted myself with my drill bit kit. She walked over and sat down next to me. My hard-on had finally calmed, but just her closeness brought it back full-force.

  “Am I so bad?” she asked. “Is no makeup and ten pounds and a permanent ponytail really such a deal-breaker?”

  Against my will, I let my gaze stop on those big brown eyes. Fucking shit. She was feeling unsure of herself and seeking reassurance from me? I was completely out of my element. If she’d asked me to spread her legs and eat her out ‘til she saw stars, I’d have been all over that shit. But anything involving feelings wasn’t my bag.

  “Uh . . . I’m gonna need to move that chair so I can access the duct,” I said. Her face fell and she jumped out of the seat.

  “Sure. I’m gonna go . . . do some stuff,” she said. “You know, work stuff.”

  Nice, Stephens. You made her feel like shit. No wonder you haven’t had a relationship in four fucking years.

  I looked at her back as she retreated through the doorway. For whatever reason, she wasn’t wearing scrubs tonight and I got a great view of her round, full ass in her jeans.

  Shaking my head with disgust, I pulled out my tape measure. It wasn’t really her ass I wanted to be looking at right now. It was her smile. But I’d ruined any chance of that.

  I thought back to the man I’d been four years ago. I’d have been looking her in the eye and assuring her she was beautiful. My time overseas had changed me. Not the time itself, but what had happened there. Finding out firsthand that nothing lasts forever changes a person.

  With a deep exhale, I took ou
t my notebook and started taking measurements and drawing a diagram. I had to get this cut just right. Not only because I took pride in my work, but because the least I could do for the blonde doctor who was doubting herself was help her get this room ready for tomorrow.

  The sound of footsteps in the doorway made me turn. She was back, wearing an apologetic expression.

  “Sorry,” she murmured. “I left my phone in here.”

  My heart raced as she ducked her head and went to pick her phone up from on top of a filing cabinet.

  “Dr. Drake?” I said, clearing my throat to ease my nerves.

  She turned, eyes wide. “It’s Joss.”

  Joss. It was a fitting name for this gorgeous woman. I rolled it around in my head a few times before continuing.

  “Joss,” I said. “I just wanted to say that . . . well, you asked if you’re really that bad.” I ran a hand through my short hair, trying to think of the right thing to say. “And you’re not. You’re . . . beautiful.”

  Her pink lips parted with surprise and then their corners turned up a little. “Thanks, but you don’t have to—”

  “I mean it,” I said. “I’ve seen you in the cafeteria before. Drinking tea and reading a book, usually. If I was the kind of guy who talked to people, I’d talk to you.”

  Her brown eyes softened. “Well, you’re talking to me now.”

  I nodded my agreement. “You don’t have to go. Unless you’ve got work to do. I mean, if you have work in here, that’s fine.”

  Her smile widened. “I do have some things to do in here if you don’t mind. Is there anything you need that I can grab while I’m getting some stuff?”

  “You guys have coffee?” I asked, getting up from the floor. “I could use a cup if you do.”

  “Yeah.” She eyed me from head to toe. “Yeah, we have a cup . . . I mean we have coffee. It might not be fresh, though. Let me go check and I’ll get you some. Bring you some. Coffee, I mean.”

  She ran a hand over her ponytail, her cheeks slightly pink. Was I making her nervous? I’d never been smooth, and the past few years had left me even more abrasive than before.