Beautifully Awake

by Riley Mackenzie

  “Where is everyone, what about rounds? When did it become okay to not be on time? Did I miss the memo somewhere?” My brain-to-mouth filter temporarily malfunctioned. “That’s really kind of ballsy for an intern, on the first day, no less. And he might be the attending, but it’s his first day too. What happened to professionalism? Hell, I’m only the case manager and I’m here on time. Forget that, I was early and latte-less.”

  Guy struggled to contain his smirk. My uncharacteristic little tirade must have seriously amused him. Damn nervous energy, it needed a release and I chose now for some god-forsaken reason.

  “Umm, we rounded about forty minutes ago.” The words had no sooner left his mouth when the rumble below fired and my blouse suctioned to my armpits. Time for new deodorant.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t worry, doll. I covered for ya.” Guy palmed my shoulder, which had zero effect in the calming department.

  “Why didn’t anyone page me?” This made no sense.

  “The new guy Colton wanted to be a dick and show off his first day as chief. He paged at five to get us all in early. I remembered you said you needed your alarm on some crazy max volume, so I figured you didn’t hear it. It was a bullshit move on his part anyway.”

  He was right about the pager, it could have been a cricket in New Jersey. It had no chance of waking me up. He remembers that?

  “I can’t believe you remembered that, but you should have called me!” That was dumb, Guy didn’t have my number. I didn’t have his either. We weren’t at that level yet. Shit. “Did anyone notice I wasn’t at rounds?” I rubbed my forehead and pinched my eyebrow. What did he say his name was, Colton? The last thing I needed was an arrogant brain surgeon thinking I was lazy on day one.

  “Really, don’t sweat it. I told him one of the kids on peds broke your pager yesterday.” He flashed his dimples, and I suddenly felt a pang of guilt for being bitchy. It wasn’t Guy’s fault I needed a weapon of mass destruction to wake me and I slept through the page. “And be happy you got a few extra minutes of sleep and got to miss the lion pissing-on-his-territory display this morning.” He let out a deep chuckle. “I’m not a hundred percent, but I’m pretty sure the new intern, Petit, shit his pants. It was fucking ugly.”

  His full out belly laugh sliced right through my mood and I couldn’t help but join him. His laugh was infectious, even ... sexy.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Don’t be surprised if Sam Petit’s scrubs don’t match when you see him.”

  Guy was handsome and funny.

  “Poor kid, that really stinks. I hope he’s not in my office crying all day like that intern last year. The one that wound up quitting month two—remember him?”

  “Don’t feel bad for him.” The dimples disappeared and one-part arrogant took over. “Fuck that, I don’t feel bad for any of them. We all did it. Hell-” Guy looked me straight in the face as his other two-thirds finished, “and I definitely didn’t have a beautiful shoulder like yours to cry on. As I recall, peds wasn’t sharing you back then.”

  Did he really just say that?

  “Be careful what you say, you wouldn’t want anyone to hear that tough Guy Hunter cried like a baby as an intern.” I stepped back, breaking eye contact and letting some air back into the suddenly tight atmosphere. He flirted with all things female; it meant nothing. It was time for a change in subject. “So the new guy’s an ass. That’s what you’re saying, huh?”

  “Pretty much, but that’s his issue. I couldn’t give two shits if he wants to be a dick. As long as he’s as good in the OR as they say he is, and he teaches me what I need to know to get a fellowship, I’ll play the stupid game and kiss ass. I don’t care.”

  Residency could have been the topic of a bad Lifetime movie about hazing, minus the drinking and branding. It started at the top and trickled down to interns, who took the brunt. Always. It was a vicious cycle of humiliation all in the name of “medical” training. It wasn’t right.

  “It’s still not right, attending or not. No one’s that freaking special. He needs to get over himself. Remember that in a few years when you’re done with all your training and an attending,” I said, not believing for one second that Guy would turn into a stereotypical surgeon. He was better than that.

  “Well, he must be doing something right. He’s what, like thirty-six and already fuckin’ Chief of Neuro. He’s published a shit load, and I think he’s even a spokesman for some of that new equipment they’re training us on.” Guy finished tinkering with my tablet and handed it back to me. Envy and determination were in his eyes.

  Our moment was abruptly interrupted. “You can make that man spokesperson or spokesmodel for just about anything, and I’d buy it.” A sassy voice came out of nowhere. We both looked up at Leanne Crowley, a fifth floor nurse and frequenter of girl’s happy hour. She came out of nowhere.

  “Really, Lee?” Guy’s voice deepened to a semi-growl and his expression resembled that of a jealous middle schooler.

  “Yes, Dr. Hunter. Really. I’d even volunteer to be his test subject.” Leanne flashed her pearly whites and shrugged her shoulders. She knew just how to push Guy’s buttons.

  Turning as quickly as she appeared, she walked away with an exaggerated shake of her hips. Guy’s eyes were crazy glued to her assets until she disappeared back into a patient’s room.

  Not staring at Leanne was difficult. She wasn’t just girl next door pretty, she was full on stunning. Her legs started at her chin and she worked that classic Barbie doll figure, big boobs with non-existent hips. Her blonde hair bordered on platinum, a shade that didn’t exist in a box.

  When Guy’s eyes finally rebounded back and realized I caught him checking her out, he raised his brow, screaming, can you blame me? Nope.

  Before he drooled on himself or before my sudden onset of completely unfounded, unjustifiable, unexplainable jealousy clawed its way to the surface, I spoke. “Hey. Let’s run the list so I can go do what I do and not give Dr. Pompous another reason to piss all over the intern again. I hear there’s a limit on how many times you can change your scrubs.”

  “When did you get so funny, doll?” Those dimples killed me.

  Joking aside, Guy diligently walked me through the list of patients. Who was going home soon, who needed rehab, who was scheduled for the OR, and most importantly, an abbreviated Sanskrit-to-English translation of all the neuro terms that were completely foreign.

  Just as we finished with business, something dawned on me. Thanks to Guy, my morning was not total shit. He completely changed the vibe; he fixed it and made it ... enjoyable, even. He let me sleep in, if you called five thirty sleeping in. He covered for me with the new chief and even waited around after rounds to help me out. My insides warmed a degree, nowhere near thawing, but I almost imagined what it would feel like to be with someone again. To trust someone again. To share that part of myself with someone again. Almost.

  I needed out of my own head, and I didn’t want my inner debate sending Guy any wrong signals. “Hey, thanks a lot. I really appreciate your help. You rock.” I genuinely meant it.

  “Anytime. Gotta run, supposedly Super-Chief doesn’t need sleep and changed the damn OR schedule to start even earlier. I’ve got a laminectomy in five.” He radiated annoyance. “So as much as I enjoy your awesome company, I’d rather skip the Chief’s how-long’s-my-dick show if I can. I’ll see ya later, but make sure you page me if you need help changing Petit’s diaper. Show him who’s boss.”

  He squeezed my arm again and sauntered toward the stairs. Surgeons and stairs. I didn’t get it.

  “Go, run, don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll dazzle him with your lami-whatever skills, and hopefully there will be no need for any showing of man parts.” I winked and smiled. “And thanks again for covering for me this morning. I’m just glad he didn’t notice.”

  With one hand opening the steel door, he glanced back looking incredibly handsome and dead serious.

  “I neve
r said that, doll. He totally noticed.”

  2

  Chiseled

  After Guy left to lami-something someone, I tracked down Sam Petit. I was pleasantly surprised there were no signs of an impending meltdown. He appeared to have his shit together in matching scrubs. Not bad for a first day intern. It also psyched me out to learn we were getting a physician assistant on our service. Supposedly Colton was a control freak in the operating room and insisted on having his own PA to scrub with. I guessed residents didn’t cut it. He must have had some clout, because the surgery department assigned Jackson, who aside from being a great guy, was one of the more senior PAs and known to be kickass in the operating room. So far the team looked promising. Three down, one to go.

  The morning was so busy, I barely had time to stress about missing rounds. Even the rumble subsided. And since Colton’s OR schedule was jam packed with the most treacherous sounding procedures, he wasn’t going to care that his case manager slept through a page. Craniotomies, ventriculostomies, transsphenoidal resections, chiari decompressions—total effing Sanskrit. NASA sounded remedial in comparison.

  The hospital grapevine, aka Leanne, buzzed that Dr. Colton was one of the go-to-guys in his field. Patients were already scheduled months in advance for consults. And not just local patients, people were flying in from all over. The hospital powers-that-be must have been thrilled; after all, it was always about the bottom line for them. There was a good chance I wouldn’t deal with Dr. Pompous at all this rotation.

  And just as Sierra predicted, I quickly fell right into my routine. I met with all my patients trying to tease out any social issues, because old habits died hard, and then spent hours on the phone arguing with soul-sucking insurance companies. This part of the job completely and utterly sucked, but someone needed to fight for these people, even if it was always a losing battle. It always boiled down to the same thing. Money. Saving the hospital money. Saving the insurance company money. Who cared if these patients were sick and vulnerable? Figure it out, that was my job and it was mind-blowingly frustrating most days. But I had enough experience with “the system” to realize getting all bent out of shape wasn’t the answer. One battle at a time. Take a small victory when you can.

  Chime. Sierra texted all day, every day without fail. About everything and nothing.

  Babe’s hungry today

  Might gross myself out and

  order the enchilada XL!

  She was text obsessed even before she quit her high-powered job as an ad exec last spring to live the life of a main-line brat. Funny that she called herself that because, for one, she lived in the heart of Center City, not the main line, and two, she clocked close to forty-five hours a week fundraising for various children’s charities. Sierra was no stranger to working hard, she just failed to understand that not everyone could pause what they were doing to text streams of consciousness. She had to wait.

  I ignored my non-stop chiming cell and finished my torturous phone calls before grabbing a quick lunch with my friend Kate from the recovery room. I even squeezed in an afternoon pit stop to drop off the scones with my security buddies, a weekly tradition we shared. It was five o’clock before I knew it, and I was back at the fifth floor nurses’ station—this time waiting for evening rounds. It was a little like Groundhog’s Day.

  Whatever, in less than an hour there’d be a well-deserved kickass margarita in my hand. Mmm. First day down, and the rumble was quiescent. Until next month at least.

  So far, only the new intern Sam waited, and Leanne mercilessly teased the poor guy. Jackson already left for the day, because PAs rarely stayed to round. Not sure why that was kosher, but it was pretty well established and no one questioned it.

  I had a minute, so I finally took out my phone and texted Sierra back.

  About to round. Should be there by 6.

  Kate coming 2-boyfriend being sketchy asshat.

  Needs a pick me up. C U soon.

  The phone chimed back instantaneously. The girl had a problem.

  Cool :)

  How did it go today?

  Busy, but fine.

  Freak- u gave yourself the shits for nothing. LOL

  Hate u!! C u soon

  I shook my head and dropped the phone down. Leanne was still on a roll. Poor Sam. She was ruthless.

  “Lili, did you hear Dr. Petit made his grand OR entrance today? He was lucky enough to get called down to be an errand boy for Colton, and he full on knocked over the tray of sterile instruments. Classic! What I would have given to be a fly on that wall. I heard Colton was so pissed he couldn’t even speak.” She barely contained her laughter.

  Leanne definitely knew how to twist the knife. She argued she did the interns a favor. Toughened them up. Not sure anyone else saw it that way.

  Sam crossed his arms across his chest and shifted his weight side to side in defeat. Through his retro thick-rimmed glasses, he looked over at me. “Yeah, It was pretty fucking bad. Not one of my finer moments. Colton thinks I’m a total dipshit. But hey—at least I gave Leanne something to laugh about ... all fucking day.” He shot Leanne a playful I-hate-you look and quietly chuckled at himself. He took it well. Really well.

  I liked him. Sam Petit was going to do just fine. I caught him unconsciously twirling his shiny gold wedding band with his thumb all day and it made me like him even more. He reminded me of that super smart, slightly overweight guy in high school that everyone loved but wondered how he landed the gorgeous girl who always had the lead in the play. But once you really got to know him, you realized she was the lucky one. He was loyal and trusting to a fault. A good egg, as my dad said. At least that was my gut impression, and I was starting to trust in that again.

  Leanne stopped laughing and motioned her head toward the hall behind me at the same time I heard Guy’s voice. I wanted rounds over so I could be done with this day. I was exhausted, and more importantly, there was a cocktail waiting with my name on it.

  I grabbed my tablet and pivoted on my heel to come face to face with a presence that sent a sudden shiver down my spine. Storm cloud grey eyes locked with mine and cut me like glass. It was hard to tell if it was deliberation or anger, but his intensity startled me. My breath hitched and I took a step back. The small amount of extra space allowed the face possessing those eyes to come into focus. Strong jaw. Sharp nose. Razored cheekbones. Chiseled. Every defined line brought focus right back to those eyes. His bronze skin looked a shade darker than his five o’clock shadow, while dark chocolate hair hung unruly over a faint linear indentation across his forehead. Evidence of the surgical cap he wore all day. This man was intimidating beyond belief. Everything about him screamed hard. And his eyes had not wavered from mine.

  A flush warmed my face. The pulses in my neck and wrists bounded. Were you supposed to feel your pulses? I was never so physically affected by the sight of someone, and not from fear. I needed a pause to break his gaze before everyone around me realized how completely overwhelmed I was. But I was paralyzed. Please god, somebody needed to say something. The nape of my neck dampened with sweat. His eyes were still locked with mine. Guy’s voice answered my prayer and my temporary paralysis ended.

  “Hey doll.”

  My head snapped toward Guy, who was standing close to him? Who ... oh please ... you had to be fucking kidding me. This … this was my luck?

  “Nice of you to grace us with your presence, Ms. Porter.” His voice was gravelly and stern. I turned back to address him and his eyes captured mine. Again.

  “Um ... you must be Dr. Colton. It’s, um, nice to meet you.”

  The team was dead silent and the tension was palpable. This man commanded respect.

  “First, it’s Chase. Second. I take it you got your pager fixed.”

  Zero humor. Point made. This was humiliating.

  “Um. Yes, it’s all good now.” Shoot me.

  “Perfect.” He finally severed our stare to focus on Sam and Guy, the rest of his team. “From now on we all round at six a
nd six. Got it?” It wasn’t a question.

  Guy and Sam silently nodded like obedient soldiers, while I involuntarily studied the rest of this captivating man. Chase hovered a good three inches over Guy, who was pretty tall. Making him really tall, and even more intimidating. Already changed out of scrubs, he was dressed in dark charcoal slacks that hung low from his hips. Topped with a crisp white and grey pinstripe dress shirt that gently hugged his broad chest and gloved his taut arms perfectly. No tie. His top two buttons were undone, leaving a window to a ridiculously chiseled collarbone and a smooth sun-kissed chest. There was no hiding his muscular physique, even fully clothed. If I encountered him alone in a dark alley, there was no doubt panic would set in. But here, in this setting, he was ... hot.

  “Good. Let’s move,” Chase barked.

  He removed his right hand from his pocket and gestured the team to move forward. The entire time, his eyes never wavered at all, like he owned my exclusive viewing rights. Then without hesitation his other hand found the small of my back, raising my core temperature by ten degrees on contact. It was going to take an early June ocean wave to cool me down. The action was completely unexpected and too intimate for my malfunctioning self-control. And Sierra was worried about my libido ... hell, I was worried about my libido.

  This bordered on humiliation. Sam and Guy were already halfway down the hall when my legs remembered how to move. The heat from Chase’s hand lingered on my lower back as we caught up to them. I was completely disarmed by my reaction to this man. My body totally betrayed me, like a star-struck moron who couldn’t remove her eyes from her idol.

  This was the part of the movie where you pushed stop or fast-forward, because it was just that embarrassing it made your stomach hurt. Pull. It. Together. There was only one possible explanation: I was having a full-out stroke. What was that term? Cerebral vascular accident. Yep, that had to be it. Either a huge blood clot or a popped vessel spewing blood in my brain caused this sudden hormonal explosion. Good thing my new hot boss was a brain surgeon. Crap. This man was my boss! At least for the next four weeks.