by Iris Trovao
“What are you going to do with me?” Jolie asked hoarsely.
He leaned down, lips ghosting over her cheekbone and hovering over her ear. His breath was hot, so hot, and she trembled with need.
“Whatever I want,” he growled, and flames licked her body from the inside out.
It was exactly what she wanted to hear. Of course it was. This was a dream, after all.
“Wait,” she gasped, “this is a dream.”
He raised an eyebrow, that sexy lopsided smile ever-present. “So?”
“So, you’re not real,” she whined as she ran her fingers down his chiseled chest.
He licked his lips as he stared at her mouth. “Does it matter?”
She inhaled sharply as he ran a finger down her cheek, drawing down her chin to her throat. His fingertip left a trail of napalm all the way down to the top of her breast, tracing the curve, and it was then that she realized she was completely naked.
No, it really doesn’t fucking matter, she thought, or maybe she said it out loud, she didn’t know, and she didn’t care. If anything, this made it better. She didn’t have to think about John, or whether this was moral. Because she was in her own damn mind.
And her mind was treating her mighty fine.
Chapter Ten
Carson exited the operation room, and didn’t even make it past the small waiting area to his office. He collapsed into one of the plush chairs, tearing the paper mask from his face.
"Doctor Wessex…” Patricia trailed off from next to him, and he leaned back in the chair, pressing his palms to his eyes for a moment before regarding her with a deep sigh. She timidly held out a steaming cup of coffee, and he offered her a thin smile, taking the styrofoam cup and giving her a nod.
He didn’t trust his voice right now. Doctors were supposed to be professional. They weren’t supposed to let emotions overcome them at work. It was his job to be calm and reassuring and stay in control.
But after hours of being calm and reassuring and in control, sometimes the floodgates opened and he had to let it out or he’d explode.
He took a sip of coffee. It was bitter and burnt, but the warmth soothed him, and he took in a deep, healing breath after swallowing a few mouthfuls.
The finally-stable woman in post-op was lucky to be alive. Carson honestly hadn’t thought she would make it. Such thoughts were unbecoming of an experienced doctor, but he’d been certain that all of his efforts were in vain. They were lucky that Doctor Sahir had been around doing paperwork, because if she had to have been called in, she would have been too late.
As if she’d heard his thoughts, Kamala Sahir’s footfalls echoed in the hallway as she sauntered over to him. She’d cleaned herself up, wearing a fresh pair of scrubs, considering hers had been covered in blood splatters.
He sat up straight, blinking rapidly, hoping that his face wasn’t as pale as it felt.
“That was intense, huh?” she asked, and threw herself down into the chair across from him. “Got anything good in there?’
Carson realized she was looking at his coffee, and a tired laugh escaped from his throat. “No, unless Patricia dosed it for me.”
“Are you okay?” Her eyes softened.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to stop the embarrassment tightening his stomach. Kamala Sahir was a decade younger than him, and he’d been an emergency doctor for a long time. He should be the one asking if she was okay.
“Yeah, it was just close,” he admitted. “You did amazing in there.”
“So did you,” she said. “Team effort. She’s stable, and I think we can both say with some certainty she’ll recover.” She stood up, slapping her knees as she did so. “I’m taking off, but I left her file for Pearson when he gets here.”
He nodded. “I’m back tonight.”
“When was the last time you took vacation, Wessex?” Kamala crossed her arms and raised a perfectly sculpted brow.
Carson sighed, smiling weakly up at her. “Go on home, Sahir.”
“Just saying.” She raised her palms and backed away. “See you later.”
He waved tiredly, and took another long sip of coffee before pulling out his phone to check the time. One hour left in his shift to finish off some paperwork and try to stay awake.
As he wandered towards his office, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and for the first time that morning, social interaction didn’t feel like it would be a chore.
Jane: All right I have an armload of stupid vampire books.
He smiled as he entered his office, closing the door behind him and collapsing into his comfortable office chair. You have to put your phone down to read them, he sent back.
Jane: Tough love, doc. Gonna loiter at the cafe nursing a latte for a few hours. How was your shift?
He took a deep breath, shaking his head. Long, was all he sent.
Jane: That sounds shitty.
He smiled wryly at her penchant for colourful language and sent back, Yeah it was just a stressful patient. Looks like they’re going to be okay though.
Jane: That’s good.
His thumbs hovered over the screen, but more little dots showed up so he waited to see what else she was going to say.
Jane: I know you’re not supposed to talk about your patients but if you need to offload or vent or whatever I’m here.
He swallowed hard. He’d been expecting her to change the subject, or make a joke. The sincerity and care on top of everything weighing on him that morning was almost too much to bear, and for a moment, he actually considered pouring out all of it into that little text message box.
He remembered back when things were good with Gina, how she’d be waiting for him when he got home from work. She used to get his tea ready and pour it just as he was getting in the door. She’d give him a hug and a kiss before he could even get his shoes off, and ask him about his night as they walked to the kitchen.
She’d sit with him, leaning on her elbow, and really listen. Listen to all of his accomplishments and fears and thoughts. Sometimes she’d come up to bed with him and they’d make love before she left for the day. Sometimes she’d just come tuck him in with a kiss. He’d felt so loved, so cherished, so happy.
Where had it all gone wrong?
He dug his thumbs into his eyes, rubbing hard. When his vision cleared, he glared at the stack of paperwork on his desk. It could wait. He stood up and shrugged out of his lab coat, hanging it over the back of his chair before grabbing his winter coat and slipping into it.
He picked up his phone, and quickly typed out, Thank you. I just need to sleep. Enjoy your books. He hoped she wasn’t put off by him being a bit short, but he didn’t want to risk getting into deep conversation with her. The temptation was there, but she already knew so much about his life, and if he was being honest, it was nice to be able to shoulder some of her burden and try to help her.
Jane: Go practice your good sleeping habits, doc.
Chapter Eleven
Jolie couldn’t focus on the vampire mystery. She’d been distracted as soon as she’d walked into the bookstore, and though the shelves looked different than in her dream, she couldn’t shake the vivid memories of being pinned against them by the dream man’s strong arms.
She’d been a hot mess when she checked out with the first six books in the series and scurried outside, flushed from head to toe. As she sucked in the crisp wintry air, she’d tried to focus on anything but the wet dream her brain had conjured.
Naturally, she’d messaged Carson, but that didn’t end up distracting her at all. All it managed to do was make her read all of his texts in the same voice as her husky dream man.
And now, desperately trying to lose herself in the—admittedly good—book was having the same effect. The sexy vampire wore the face of Dr. Tweedledick…or at least she assumed that’s where her mind was going with that one.
God I need to change his name to something sexier, she thought, but then shook her head. No, I don’t! I don’t need to be th
inking sexy things about him at all! I don’t even KNOW him!
She slapped the paperback down on the little cafe table with more force than was necessary and sighed into her coffee. As wired as she was, she didn’t even want to drink any more of it.
What do people do to get over shit like this? There’s gotta be a way, she thought, and turned towards the window, her eyes glazing over as she stared at the little smudges on the glass.
Something caught her eye across the street and she refocused on the building across the way. A giant billboard attached to the front boasted a shirtless guy with washboard abs next to a scantily-clad woman showing off her biceps.
Jolie sighed. She’d never been one to work out, but maybe that was what she needed. She’d just need to run home to grab some more appropriate clothes.
She threw back the rest of her coffee and grabbed her bag of books, heading for the shelf at the back of the cafe.
The little chalkboard sign above it read, Take a book, leave a book! She pulled out her spoils and shoved them into an empty space on the shelf, hoping that somebody else could find a good time between the pages without torturing themselves with lurid fantasies about a mystery doctor.
“You know this is the first time I’ve ever seen you with a book in your hand,” Janos quipped from behind the counter as he wiped down the espresso machine to a perfect shine, “and here you are dumping all of them onto a shelf.”
She rolled her eyes. “It didn’t occur to you that I’ve read them already and am giving them a new home?”
“Those spines don’t even look cracked to me, babe,” he replied, giving her a knowing smirk.
She crumpled up the fabric bag she’d used for the books and whipped it at him. The bag unfurled in the air and floated harmlessly to the floor a foot short of the counter, and she grunted in frustration as she retrieved it.
“I’m just trying to find something to do,” she declared. “Fucking sue me.”
“All these years, and you’re just now trying to find a hobby other than coffee and alcohol?” he teased.
She wrinkled her nose. “Suck my dick, Janos.”
“If you had one, you’d be begging me,” he whispered with a wink, and she couldn’t help but laugh.
“My life would be so much easier if I were a dude,” she lamented.
He swapped his damp cloth for a towel to dry off the machine. “We do have more fun than you brooding ladies. At least us pretty ones do.”
“I bet.” She tossed a ten-dollar bill on the counter and sighed. “Well, I’m off to the gym, wish me luck.”
“Oooh, a hobby and exercise!” He raised his hands and wiggled his hips a little. “Get it, girl!”
Jolie flipped him her middle finger as she headed out of the cafe, his laugh echoing as she swung the door out into the street.
Jolie left the gym, the chill air smacking against her sweat-slicked face. She shivered, drawing up her hood. At least I didn’t wear the stupid pea coat, she thought as she crossed her arms.
All working out had earned her was some uninvited leering and buckets of sweat. She’d decided that if workouts were going to be her thing, she’d just look up some online videos at home.
She pulled out her phone as she walked towards her place to see what time it was, and it buzzed in her hand, startling her into dropping it on the salt-covered sidewalk.
“Fuck,” she muttered as she retrieved it, brushing it off. Thank god for this expensive-ass phone case, she thought as she rubbed the screen protector clean on her pants.
Dr. Tweedledick: So how’s that book report coming along?
She snorted and exposed her thumbs from her gloves just enough to quickly send back, It’s a bust, I need a different hobby.
She shoved her phone back in her pocket, rushing down the rest of the block to get home. She had enough time to shower and make herself mildly presentable for the outdoors before the dinner rush at the pub.
When she entered the front door of the condo building, her phone buzzed again and she pulled it out after unlocking the door to head upstairs.
Dr. Tweedledick: That bad?
As she headed down the hall towards her place, she sent back, Not my thing. I went to the gym today and I don’t think that’s my thing either. She swept inside, hanging up her coat and heading for the bedroom.
Dr. Tweedledick: What do you do at work?
She snorted again and tossed her phone on the bed as she stripped down, tossing her stretchy workout clothes into the hamper by the bathroom. She cranked up the hot water, steaming up the shower as she went back for her phone, sending back, Haha I’m a trophy wife my only job is to look pretty. But since I don’t have anyone around to enjoy my prettiness, I drink instead.
She set it down on the counter and stepped into the shower, hissing as the scalding water melted away the grimy feeling of workout sweat. The buzz of his return text was loud against the marble counter, and she resisted the urge to lean out and drip all over the screen to try to read what he said.
She sighed as she lathered up her scrubby, running it all over herself, the flowery scent invading the space. Roses and cream, or so the label boasted. She didn’t know where the cream part came in, unless that was supposed to mean the vanilla finish on the scent.
After lathering and rinsing her hair, she stood under the hot spray for a moment, enjoying the warmth. Was there anything as comforting as a boiling shower? She wished that could be her hobby. Melting in the shower surrounded by flower smell all day.
She turned off the water and swished open the curtain, letting herself drip a bit before stepping out onto the plush mat to grab her towel. She realized she didn’t know how many times she’d used it since she last washed it, and gave it an experimental sniff. Good enough.
After she’d wrung her hair with the soft fabric and patted down her body, she finally clicked the button on her phone to read the text.
Dr. Tweedledick: That doesn’t seem to be very fulfilling for you.
“No shit, doc,” she muttered, and wound her wet hair up into a messy bun before tossing the towel into the hamper and heading for the closet. Once dressed, she scooped up her phone and wandered back to the front door, pausing at the coat rack.
Yeah I used to work at a fast food joint when I was in high school, but it sucked, she sent back. And hubs got a job with his dad right after we graduated so I started playing housewife and that worked for a while. Now I’m just so used to this routine I don’t know what to do with myself.
Jolie shrugged into her coat and left, locking the door behind her.
Dr. Tweedledick: There has to be something you enjoy doing. The newspaper has a lot of local adult classes.
“How does someone so much older than me still have so much optimism in his life?” she muttered under her breath as she emerged back out onto the street. As she began the short walk to the pub down the block, she sent back, Ah see I also hate people. So that’s a thing. She snickered and added, Also who reads a newspaper anymore?
Unbidden, a vision of sexy vampire doctor rolling his eyes flashed through her mind.
Dr. Tweedledick: Not everything needs to be digital you know.
Jolie rolled her own eyes as she slid up to the bar, parking her ass on a seat directly in front of the bartender. Says the man that texts with me all day, she sent back, adding an emoji with its tongue hanging out.
The bartender offered her a smile and wordlessly poured a glass of whiskey, sliding it across the bar to her.
“Ah, thank you, good sir.” She raised her glass to him before throwing it back, relishing in the burn down her throat. “Keep ‘em coming.”
Chapter Twelve
Fair enough. I’m sure you can find some local classes on social media, then, Carson sent to Jane before pocketing his phone and leaning over the front of the nurse’s station to rummage around for a pen.
“Get your paws outta there!” Patricia barked as she emerged from the back office, a hand on her hip.
He face heated and he wrinkled his nose. “Sorry. I need a pen.”
“How do you not have a bunch of pens in your office, you thief?” she teased, feigning a side-eye, and plonked herself down into her chair. She opened a drawer beneath her computer and pulled out a box of pens, dumping two out into her hand.
“I lose them constantly,” he admitted as she held them out to him. “Thank you.” He took them and offered her a smile, tucking one into the breast pocket of his lab coat and clicking the other open in his hand.
“Well don’t lose these ones,” she said haughtily, but the curl of her lips told him that she wasn’t actually upset. “We’ll have to take it out of your paycheck.”
He chuckled. “Tack it onto yours, my angel.”
She rolled her eyes and waved him away as she turned to her computer screen.
Carson’s phone buzzed as he checked over the clipboard he’d wanted to make notations on. He finished his scribbling and dropped off the papers before checking the message.
Jane: Or I could ask this bartender if they do drink making classes. That would do double duty for my life.
He chuckled, shaking his head as he walked down the hallway. You’re at the bar? Aren’t you trying to cure your so-called insomnia? He hit send and headed into the cafeteria, grabbing a salad from the cold shelf and sitting at a corner table.
Jane: It’s early. You said nothing after 8pm.
He didn’t believe for a second that she actually had taken his advice that way, and was just messing around, but decided to play along. That was for food and screens, he sent back and opened his salad.
Jane: Why do I talk to you lol
Carson couldn’t help but laugh. Why did she talk to him? He was just a prude old doctor trying to encourage healthy habits. Maybe it’s you that needs to block MY number if you don’t want my health advice, he sent back.
Jane: I guess that’s par for the course being friends with a doctor huh?