Playing With The Doctor: A Romantic Comedy: Milestone Mischief #1

by Piper James

  Rafe nodded, staring at the pressure gauge as he released the air and listened for Dad’s pulse through the stethoscope. Then he looked at his watch, which was a fancy looking thing with several different dials on the face. Then he shook his head and removed the cuff from Dad’s arm.

  “Your blood pressure is a little higher than I’d like to see it,” he said.

  “It’s the stress, Doc. I’m worried about The Bullpen, and it’s keeping me up at night.”

  I snorted, and the sound echoed in the silence that followed Dad’s words. They both turned to look at me—Rafe with raised brows and Dad with a smirk. A smirk that disappeared when Rafe looked back at his face.

  Dad’s snores practically shook the house all night, so I knew he was lying through his teeth. But if his blood pressure was high…

  “Anything that would bring your stress level down is a good thing.”

  Rafe’s words bore through my chest, making me gasp for air. Was I being selfish, wanting to get back to Atlanta as soon as possible? Was my supposed independence more important than Dad’s health? If staying here for a few weeks would help him heal faster, why was I fighting so hard against it?

  I was a terrible daughter.

  “Fine. I’ll stay.” A bright smile lit up Dad’s face, but I cut off whatever he was about to say. “Just until you’re better, Dad.”

  “I’ll take what I can get,” he said, happiness rolling off him in waves.

  And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at my own lips.

  9

  Rafe

  I only felt a little guilty. Greg’s blood pressure was a bit higher than normal, but not high enough that I was actually worried.

  But when he used it as an excuse to keep Jessa in town…I couldn’t help myself. I’d uttered the words that were sure to make her stay.

  “What’s up with you today, Rafe?”

  My gaze snapped up from the patient chart I’d read three times and still hadn’t comprehended. Ivy Anderson, our department’s lead nurse practitioner stood next to me, staring at me with a concerned look.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, looking back at the patient chart like I was trying to concentrate.

  “Nope,” she said, laying her palm over the tablet in my hand. “Something’s up with you. You’ve been a space cadet all day, and that’s just not like you.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and exhaled. Maybe if I ignored her, she’d leave. There had to be better things for her to do than stand around and harass me.

  “Hey,” she said, snapping her fingers in front of my face. I opened my eyes and met her gaze. “You should know by now that I won’t give up. You might as well just tell me.”

  “Like a dog with a bone,” I muttered under my breath.

  She let out a low growl, and I laughed. Ivy was a breath of fresh air in this place of illness and pain, and I didn’t know what I’d do without her. With her sun-bleached hair, cornflower-blue eyes, and the smattering of freckles across her nose, she looked like she belonged on a surfboard in southern California, not in a small-town emergency room in southern Georgia.

  I grabbed her wrist and pulled her into an empty exam room, leading her as far away as possible from the open door. She came along willingly, then crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

  “This stays between us, okay?”

  “Rafe,” she said, narrowing those blue eyes at me, “I’m your best friend. Unless you intentionally hurt a patient, which I know could never in a million years happen, my lips are sealed.”

  She really was the best friend I’d ever had, and I knew I could trust her. My fear actually stemmed from the idea that she might see me differently once she knew what I did.

  “Remember the pneumonia patient, Greg Maddox?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Older hottie?”

  “Hottie?”

  “Yeah, he owns that sports bar downtown, right? I’ve always wanted to go there, but I’ve never been.”

  “Yes, that’s him,” I said. “I’ve made a few house calls to check on him.”

  “Of course, you have,” she said, giving me a warm smile. “I love how dedicated you are, Rafe, but if you put half as much time and energy into your personal life, I wouldn’t have to worry about you so much. You’re going to work yourself to death and die alone.”

  “Wow, Ivy,” I said. “Thanks a lot.”

  “I just call them like I see them,” she said, giving me an impish grin.

  It was an old argument, and not one I wanted to have at the moment. “Do you want to hear this, or not?”

  “Sorry. Yes, please go on.”

  I shook my head at her, but she continued to grin. My tongue darted out to wet my suddenly parched lips, and I swallowed hard against the knot forming in my throat.

  “So…his daughter is back in town.”

  Ivy’s eyes grew so wide I thought they might pop out of their sockets. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, before she shook herself.

  “This is about a woman?” she asked, her voice high with disbelief. “Tell me everything. What’s she like? Is she pretty? Of course, she’s pretty with a smoking hot dad like that. Did she hit on you?”

  “Ivy, stop,” I interjected, and she mimed locking her lips and tossing the key over her shoulder. “She’s, uh, interesting,” I stuttered.

  “So she’s hot.”

  “Ivy!”

  “Jeez, Rafe, just spit it out already.”

  “Fine. I find her intriguing—and yes, she’s gorgeous—but it doesn’t matter because she’s only visiting. Greg wants her to stay and run the bar until he fully recovers, and I may have…exaggerated his symptoms to help him convince her to stay.”

  “Exaggerated, how?”

  “His blood pressure was slightly elevated, and I didn’t correct him when he went on and on about stress and how much he needs her help.”

  “And you’re feeling guilty?” she asked, her eyebrows drawing down.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh my God, Rafe. It’s not like you committed murder. What patients decide to tell their families is not up to us. He’s not even technically your patient anymore. You’re doing him a favor on your own time.”

  “You’re right, I know. I just feel like I manipulated her, and it’s not sitting right with me.”

  “Oh, you like her,” she teased.

  “Shut up and get back to work,” I said, shoving her toward the door.

  She laughed as she went, then paused at the door. “Hey, what’s her name?”

  “Jessa.”

  “Jessa,” she said, rolling the name around on her tongue. “I like it. I can’t wait to meet her.”

  She zipped out before I could respond with any kind of denial. And knowing Ivy, she would be meeting Jessa, even if she had to stake out The Bullpen every night until she did.

  I needed to convince her that I didn’t really like Jessa Maddox, and I would. Right after I convinced myself.

  “Yo, Rafe, grab me a soda when you come back.”

  I knew my brother, and I already had the can in my hand before he made the request. I walked into the living room, tossing the can toward him where he sat sprawled out on the couch.

  “Thanks, bro,” he said, catching it lightly in one hand.

  “You need anything?” I asked our sister, who was curled up in the oversized chair.

  “No, I’m good,” she said.

  Nate and Lola came home for dinner at least once a week so we could hang out and catch up. I lived for these times, when the house was full of love and laughter. Without them, the place seemed cold and lonely.

  A therapist might tell me that was why I spent so much time working and making house calls. The thought made me think of Jessa, and our conversation about her being a bartender with a psychology degree. My lips curled up without my consent.

  “What’s that smile, hermano?” Lola asked, her head tilting to the side.

  “Nothing,” I said quickly, wip
ing the grin from my face. “How are your classes going?”

  She narrowed her eyes as if she knew what I was doing—changing the subject. But she didn’t push.

  “They’re good,” she said. “I’m acing every one of them, and I’m still on track to graduate next summer.”

  “A whole year early,” I said. “Mamá would be so proud of you, Lola.”

  Lola was born when I was six and Nate was four, and our mother had been ecstatic when she was born a girl. She’d treated her youngest baby like a princess, and always predicted that Lola would grow up to do great things. If Mamá were still alive, she really would be so proud of Lola.

  “How about you?” I asked, kicking my foot against Nate’s. “How’s business?”

  “Busy as ever,” he said, taking a long drag from his soda. “Cars need fixing, and customers trust us. I might have to hire a new tech next month if things keep going the way they are now.”

  “That’s great, Nate,” I said.

  My brother had never been a “school” person, and he struggled in high school until an angel of a shop teacher talked him into taking his course. Mr. Valdez saw something in Nate that no other teachers had noticed.

  All they saw was a too-handsome-for-his-own-good playboy. Nate inherited our Hispanic mother’s sandy brown skin and black hair, but his eyes were all Dad. Irish blue with thick, dark lashes. Girls fell all over themselves to get close to him, and for a while, it went to his head.

  But Mr. Valdez taught my brother he was more than an academically challenged pretty boy. He encouraged Nate to pick up a wrench and dive under the hood of a car, and that was all it took. He fell in love with the art of making engines purr, and he took that love and built a very profitable business from scratch.

  “Enough about us,” Lola said. “What’s going on with you?”

  “Work is good,” I said, leaning back against the couch.

  “What about your personal life?” she asked. “Have you gone out at all? Done anything fun?”

  “Of course, I have.” Lie.

  “Of course, you have,” Nate said, the words laced with sarcasm.

  “I like my life,” I insisted. Another lie.

  It wasn’t a lie the last time we had this beat-a-dead-horse-with-a-stick conversation, but somehow, the words didn’t ring true this time.

  “When’s the last time you went on a date?” Lola needled.

  “When’s the last time you went on a date?” I shot back.

  “We’re not talking about me,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

  I knew I’d struck a nerve, and I just hoped it was enough to stop the third degree I was getting. Lola had been so focused on school and graduating early, I knew she didn’t have much of a social life. She was a goal-oriented person who knew what she wanted and went after it.

  “Are you at least getting some?” Nate threw out, and I nearly choked on the sip of soda I’d been drinking.

  “Nate.”

  “What?” he asked. “Lola isn’t a kid anymore. I’m sure she knows what sex is.” He looked over at our baby sister. “Right?”

  Her face darkened with embarrassment, but she didn’t respond. I cleared my throat and sat forward, propping my elbows on my knees.

  “The point is, I’m fine with the way things are in my life right now. I don’t have time for relationships, and I’m okay with that. My life is full. I have everything I could possibly want.”

  And that was the biggest lie of all.

  10

  Jessa

  I was feeling antsy, being locked up in the house with Dad when I was used to working most nights. Now that I’d agreed to help run the bar, I was anxious to get started. But a phone call to Janice left me feeling deflated. It was a slow night, and she didn’t need any help.

  And she refused to take the night off so I could come in and work.

  Dad had all but ordered me to leave the house, saying my jitterbug energy was harshing his mellow. He seriously used those words, and I found myself blinking at him several times before shaking my head and agreeing to go out.

  Problem was, I had no friends in this town. Well, none other than maybe Rafe, and I wasn’t about to call him. I’d seen the text message he’d sent me the night I’d gone all “one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor,” and it had said, In case of emergency only.

  My boredom was not an emergency, and I didn’t want to bother someone who obviously didn’t want to be bothered.

  So I found myself pulling into the parking lot of The Bullpen, despite Janice’s assurances that she didn’t need me. Maybe I needed her and this place.

  When I walked through the front doors, nostalgia overwhelmed me at the sounds of glasses clinking, the smell of beer permeating the air, and the low music coming from the old school jukebox in the corner. There were several televisions anchored along the walls, broadcasting baseball games, UFC fights, and even a replay of a bass fishing tournament from earlier in the day.

  Janice had been right—it was a slow night. Only seven of the tables were occupied, and a couple of the servers were sitting at the bar, just shooting the shit.

  “Jessa, what are you doing here?” Janice called out from behind the bar as I walked toward her.

  The two waitresses moved to slide off their perches on the barstools, but when I waved at them with a smile, they settled back in. Having the boss’s daughter show up unexpectedly obviously put them on edge.

  “I was bored, and Dad kicked me out of the house,” I said, sliding onto a stool.

  Janice slid a cocktail napkin onto the bar in front of me and asked, “What can I get you, sweetie?”

  “Just water tonight,” I said. “I’m driving.”

  I jiggled my keys in the air before stuffing them into my pocket. Janice smiled as she set a glass of ice in front of me and filled it with water. I thanked her as I picked it up, then spun around on my stool to survey the bar.

  A couple of the tables were occupied by older gentlemen who looked as if they’d come here straight from work. Three couples sat in booths, sipping cocktails as they talked, laughed, and stared into each other’s eyes. I wondered how long that romantic glow would last before it faded and one of them left the other.

  Shaking my head, I let my eyes stray to the last set of customers. Two women sat in chairs at a table tucked in the corner, laughing uproariously as they sipped frozen margaritas. One sported flaming-red curls, while the other’s hair fell into a sleek, midnight curtain that shined even in the dim lighting.

  My eyes widened a bit as I realized I knew them. Well, sort of. Knew of them was a better word choice. Karly Brooks and Felicia Stone grew up in Milestone, and we were in the same grade in school. Because I always kept to myself, I didn’t have a circle of friends, but if I remembered correctly, those two ran in the same circles in high school.

  Felicia looked up, catching my eye. Her perfectly sculpted black eyebrows shot up, and before I could look away, she waved.

  “Jessa Maddox, is that you?” she called out, making Karly’s gaze dart in my direction.

  I gave them an awkward wave of my hand, unsure what I was supposed to do next. Should I get up and go over there? No, that’s too weird. I should smile. Yeah. Normal people smile at each other.

  My smile felt forced, more like a grimace, so I took a sip of my water to cover it up. Both women raised their hands, frantically waving me over. With a deep, solidifying breath, I slid off the stool and walked towards them.

  “I can’t believe it’s you,” Felicia said, pointing me into one of the two empty chairs. “How long’s it been? Seven years?”

  “You look amazing,” Karly added before I could answer. “Your teeth are perfect.”

  Something about the way she said that struck me as funny, and I barked out a laugh. Felicia backhanded her shoulder and shook her head.

  “You are so awkward, sometimes.”

  “What? Look at those chompers,” Karly said before turning back to me. “I
worked as a receptionist in a dental office for a while. You should see some of the horrendous teeth that came through those doors. Your orthodontist did a great job.”

  A grin curved my lips as she spoke with gusto, waving her hands around to emphasize her point. Her red curls bounced around her face, highlighting emerald eyes that sparkled with enthusiasm…or tequila. I eyed her margarita glass, which was half full.

  “That’s her first one,” Felicia laughed, noticing my interest. “She’s not drunk. She always acts like this.”

  “I’m high on life,” Karly said, taking a sip of her drink.

  “So, Jessa,” Felicia said, flipping her obsidian curtain of hair over one shoulder, “what brings you back to Milestone?”

  Karly leaned her elbow against the table and propped her chin in her hand, gazing at me intently as they waited for my answer. I tried to find some deception in their demeanors, some indication that this little tête-á-tête wasn’t as friendly as they tried to make it seem. Maybe they were digging for information—

  Stop, Jessa. Nobody is trying to get the goods on you.

  “My dad is ill,” I blurted before my paranoid mind could conjure up any more gloomy scenarios.

  “Oh, no. Is he okay?” Felicia asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, shaking my head as I waved a hand in the air. “He came down with pneumonia, but he’s recovering. I came to check on him and somehow got talked into staying to help Janice run this place.”

  “That’s great!” Karly blurted before backtracking. “I mean, not that he’s sick. That’s terrible. It’s great that you’re staying a while. It’s so good to see you.”

  I nodded as if in agreement, but my mind was whirring a million miles a minute. Did she have some warped memories of us from school that led her to believe we’d been friends back then? Her words made it seem like she’d missed me while I was gone, yet this was the longest conversation we’d ever had.

  “You’re being weird, Karly,” Felicia said, kicking her under the table. Karly howled as she hunched over to rub away the pain, but Felicia kept her eyes on me. “Don’t mind her. She thinks everyone she knows is her best friend.”