Dr. Hottie

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Dr. Hottie Page 7

by Vivian Wood


  “That’s a… nice offer. But I can’t take your money.”

  “Seriously, Addy, you’re my wife, remember? No big deal. Besides, I know where you sleep. Right over there!”

  “I’m serious too, Jack. I’ll figure something else out. Right now, I just need to relax for a minute.”

  “No, I know what you need.”

  Addy visibly stiffened. “You… you do?”

  “Yeah. Hold on,” Jack pushed himself up and sauntered into the kitchen.

  He pulled the bottle of whiskey he’d picked up the day he landed in Tahoe out of the corner cupboard along with two cut crystal tumblers.

  “Fancy,” Addy said. She leaned around the couch and watched him. “How long have you been hiding that in there?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know. Rocks or neat?”

  “Rocks.”

  He put three cubes in each of the glasses and filled them one-quarter of the way. With a flourish, he handed Addy her glass and set the bottle down on the little side table she’d picked up last week.

  “Jack Daniels,” she said. “Cute. Is that the only hard alcohol you drink?”

  “Like I’ve never heard that before. Cheers,” he said.

  They clinked glasses and he watched her wince at the burn. “Is this your answer for everything?” she asked.

  “Pretty much, yes. It works, doesn’t it?”

  They finished the first few pulls quickly, and Addy refilled their glasses. He let the sweet burn coat his throat as they settled into the depths of the couch.

  Jack could see her loosen up. When she got slightly tipsy, just like that first night, the constant air of worry that clouded over her dissipated.

  Addy let out a sharp, sudden laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked, faintly aware that he’d started to slur.

  “Nothing. I was just remembering. Well… I had a dream. About you.” She buried her face in her forearm and the ice cubes tinkled in the glass. “Forget it, it’s too embarrassing, even buzzed.”

  “About me?” Jack leaned forward. “Like a … like a sex dream?”

  “What? No! God, no. We weren’t… we didn’t… do anything.”

  “Oh,” he leaned back, disappointed. “Well, way to build up the hype and then smash it back down.”

  “Just because it didn’t have to do with sex doesn’t mean—”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re really repressed?”

  She turned red. “What, are you a psychiatrist now as well as an MD?”

  “Psychiatrists are MDs, actually.”

  “Whatever. You were just in the dream, that’s all. We were at the hospital. And Rosalie came by, and you wouldn’t kiss me. You said I was a bad kisser.”

  “Are you?”

  “No! Well… I hope not. I don’t know, you’ve kissed me before. You should know…”

  Jack squinted and pretended not to remember. “I’m not sure, I can’t remember. It must not have been very memorable.”

  Addy’s mouth dropped open, horrified. “What?”

  “Maybe we should practice. You know, so that way when we kiss in public, it looks authentic.”

  Addy set her glass down and sputtered. “Wow, really? I mean… if that’s what you think we need to do—”

  Jack laughed and slapped her thigh.

  “Calm down,” he said.

  The heat that radiated from her leg sparked against his skin. He pulled her closer, somewhere between comfortably buzzed and more serious than he wanted to be.

  Addy’s eyes widened. He felt himself grow hard as he leaned in. She closed her eyes when he was inches away. The quaint charm of it was intoxicating.

  Her head tilted back, an invitation, and his lips met hers. Jack realized it was the first semisober, real kiss they’d ever shared.

  As his tongue flicked against her teeth and explored her mouth, she mewled and her breath grew ragged. The little animal noises had him rock hard.

  What would it be like to have her? To let her be on top, taking all the pleasure she wanted?

  Jack started to lower her down on the couch, but a shatter stopped them both. Her half-full glass of whiskey had toppled to the floor.

  “Sorry,” she said meekly.

  Jack rose up on his hands, his breath so heavy it filled the room.

  Addy wiped at her mouth and stood up, wobbling slightly. Jack felt his heart sink. She was clearly drunk, or nearly there.

  “I think maybe you should get a glass of water and go to bed,” he said. “Don’t worry about the glass, I’ll clean it up.”

  She opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but then changed her mind. She turned and headed toward the bedroom.

  He saw her turn and give him one last look before she disappeared and closed the door.

  10

  She leaned against the doorframe of the restaurant’s kitchen as the repairman droned on about all the problems she already suspected. “It would cost more to repair them than it would to buy them new. And I get nothing if you replace them, so that should tell you something.”

  Addy sighed. “So, what are we talking?”

  “I mean, it can vary. Depending on what you want, brand … but I would estimate maybe twelve thousand altogether. If you do some bargain hunting, you might be able to find some deals. Or if you can wait until Labor Day sales—”

  “I can’t wait even a day without having a dishwasher and freezer,” she said.

  “Sorry?”

  “No,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’m sorry, it’s not your fault. Do you have any recommendations for affordable commercial appliances?”

  “Sure, sure,” he said. With grimy black hands, he pulled a stack of business cards out of his wallet. “This guy’s local, he’ll treat you right. Tell him I sent you.”

  “And what do I owe you? For the diagnostics, and everything?”

  “I’ll send you an invoice tomorrow,” he said.

  She walked him to the front of the restaurant and chewed on her lip the entire way. Paying for the new appliances would completely drain her personal savings. Addy couldn’t believe there was a time she thought twelve thousand in savings was an impressive feat. It was gone, just like that.

  It’s not like you have much choice if the restaurant is going to stay open, she thought. Of course, you can always talk to Dad about taking out a loan.

  She nearly laughed at herself. There was no way he’d ever agree—if he was ever even sober enough to have a conversation about it. Besides, that would just make it worse. She’d be in charge of paying it back, with interest.

  Might as well use her own savings and avoid the extra charges. Maybe the restaurant would turn around and she’d actually be able to pay herself back.

  She locked the door behind the repairman and started prepping for the lunch shift. They only had a one-hour break between breakfast and lunch shifts.

  Without a working dishwasher, that was sixty minutes to wash the dishes, cups, and flatware by hand. And of course Dawn demanded her full hour break and Kenzie hadn’t come in for the morning shift.

  At least you don’t have to work at night anymore, she thought to herself as she rolled up her sleeves.

  The new hires had actually wanted evening shifts. They were experienced waitstaff and knew that’s where the best tips were. Addy knew it too, but it wasn’t worth battling it out over the closing shift.

  Let them have the heavy tippers, she thought. It made them happy, and happy employees stuck around.

  Dawn’s timing was impeccable. She showed up for her second shift right as Addy finished up with the last dish.

  “Hey! I would have helped if you’d waited for me,” she said. She reeked of cigarettes.

  “I couldn’t wait for you, these needed to be ready for lunch.”

  Dawn shrugged. “Well … thanks.”

  Thanks. Like Addy owed her a favor.

  She sucked in her breath to keep from saying anything. The last thing she neede
d was for Dawn to quit in a huff and stick Addy with another position to fill.

  As Addy headed to the car, her phone buzzed.

  “Husband” lit up her screen briefly with a text notification. It made her blush. Before she read the text, she quickly changed it back to “Dr. Hottie.”

  That was a lot more fitting and not nearly as weird.

  If she hadn’t shattered that glass of whiskey the other night, she could have really gotten herself in trouble. Jack was just being a guy, and guys didn’t turn down sex. Especially not him—God, he must have always had it easy.

  Girls throwing themselves at him. Girls like Rosalie, the superwoman-supermodel-superdoctor. She couldn’t blame Jack for trying the other night, and she wouldn’t have blamed him if they’d taken it farther.

  But Addy had to admit to herself that she’d started to develop a serious crush on him. It was manageable if she kept her distance. But if they had sex?

  If they’d had sex and then he ended up dumping her for Rosalie in a few weeks when the jealousy scheme worked? It would totally crush her, she knew it.

  Isn’t that what we’re doing this for? So Rosalie will go crawling back to him and Jeremy to me? Is it—is that really what I want?

  For the first time, she began to consider that maybe she didn’t want Jeremy back. He really was a douche. Maybe it was just her ego that was hurt.

  Did I seriously get and stay married because of some bruised ego?

  Addy opened up the text as she slid into the driver’s seat.

  Stop by my work if you have a minute. I have a surprise for you.

  A surprise?

  She swiftly texted back.

  Heading over now, just leaving the restaurant.

  It only took ten minutes to reach the hospital.

  The benefits of a small town. As soon as she stepped through the doors, she was bombarded with greetings.

  “Hi, Mrs. Stratton!”

  She blushed every time it was said. She thought she’d get used to it, but it still sounded strange.

  Fake. Like everyone was in on it and was just playing along to appease them.

  Addy headed back to the ER and immediately spotted Jack as he chatted with a patient who was perched on a table. He caught her eye and nodded.

  “Give me a minute,” his eyes read.

  She smiled. He was absolutely stunning. Beneath the blue scrub bottoms and white coat, it was still easy to make out the perfect physique.

  How did he do it? Look so effortlessly gorgeous while working these hours?

  She watched as he raked his hand through his hair, perfectly mussed though she knew he put in zero efforts to primping.

  “Addy, hi!”

  “Hi, Philip,” she said. She greeted him with a warm smile.

  “How’s it going? Here to see the husband?”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” she said. “How are you? They keeping you busy around here?”

  “You have no idea. Well, actually you probably do. Both of our jobs are brutal, huh?”

  “I think yours is a little more demanding than mine,” she said with a laugh.

  Over Philip’s shoulder, she caught sight of Rosalie. The glamazon was impossible to miss, especially in an atmosphere like this.

  She glided like she was on a runway, a perfect French twist holding her flaxen hair in place. Rosalie chatted with a nurse, the red bud of her mouth plump and full.

  Like a French woman, Addy thought. Effortlessly glamorous with a bun and red lipstick.

  Rosalie must have felt Addy’s eyes on her. Her own steel gray eyes snapped up and held Addy’s tight. The blonde squinted and slightly frowned.

  Addy looked away quickly, back to the warmth of Philip’s friendly gaze. Clearly, Rosalie still struggled with the idea of her being with Jack. Married to Jack.

  I guess that’s a good thing. That’s the goal, right?

  “Addy? You okay?” Philip asked.

  “Yeah. Sorry! It’s been a long day. What were you—”

  “Hi, Addison. Good to see you.”

  Rosalie was suddenly at her side, silent as a cat. She offered up a smile, but it didn’t extend all the way to her eyes.

  “Rosalie, hi. I was going to come say hello—”

  “Oh, it’s fine,” Rosalie said. “This one is a talker, you’d never get away.” She laughed as she nodded at Philip, and he joined in. “Is this your day off? And choosing to spend it in the ER. That’s dedication.”

  “Dedication?”

  Before Addy could say anything more, Jack had joined them. He swooped in and greeted Addy with a long kiss.

  She kept expecting him to break away, but when he didn’t and stretched it out longer, she put her hand on his chest. Jack pulled away and grinned at her, a smile so bright that it melted her insides.

  “Hey, love,” he said. “Sorry about that. I was just talking to a patient, and guess what?”

  “What’s that?”

  “He said that a restaurant in town is closing, but it’s not really public knowledge yet.”

  “A restaurant? So?” She searched his eyes.

  What was he up to now?

  “So… they’re selling all the furnishings and appliances—”

  “Like a dishwasher? Freezer?”

  “Yep, just like that. And apparently the owner was friendly with your dad. Rumor has it you can get them both for a song. A Mr. Stills, I think it was?”

  “The Stills, yeah, they own that old-fashioned burger joint on the outskirts of town. I can’t believe it’s closing! But… like, did he say a number?”

  “He said around a thousand, give or take.”

  “A thousand? As in one thousand dollars? That’s it? Really?”

  Both Rosalie and Philip had disappeared.

  “That’s right.”

  Addy launched herself into his arms and hugged him tight. She rested her head on his chest. It felt right, good, like she was home. She hadn’t realized how much she’d forced the affection up until this point.

  “Hey!” he said with a laugh. “It was no big deal. Just a touch of kismet.”

  Addy pulled back slightly.

  “It is a big deal,” she said.

  In that moment, with just a few inches of space between them, she felt that flicker again. She felt her eyes begin to droop.

  “Again? Get a room!”

  One of the nurses walked by and chided them good-naturedly, but it was enough to make Addy remember where they were. And who they were supposed to be.

  Jack cleared his throat.

  “I’ll text you the number he gave me on my next break,” he said. “Duty calls. Time to keep up the image of Professional Doctor for a few more hours.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “Seriously. I… I don’t know what to say, or how I can repay you.”

  “I have a few ideas,” he said, and wiggled his brows at her.

  “Stop it!” she said, and slapped him on the chest.

  Part of her was grateful to get back to their normal routine, but another part of her ached for those glimpses of what could be.

  “I know. Do you want anything particular for dinner? I have the rest of the day off, so it’s doctor’s choice. Whatever you want.”

  “Why don’t you surprise me?”

  Addy rushed out of the ER, feeling light and giddy. Still, the memory of Jack’s touch stayed with her, and she was flushed all the way to the car.

  11

  Uh huh,” Jack said.

  He nodded as his patient, a seventy-two-year-old local woman “born and bred in Genoa” continued to ramble during the assessment.

  “And, good heavens, that girl he married? Wouldn’t know how to marinate a turkey if her—”

  “Mrs. Miller, if we could get back to your symptoms. Where, exactly, does it hurt?”

  “Oh, somewhere around here,” she said, and gestured loosely at her hip, pelvic, and abdominal area.

  “Would you say it’s chronic? Acute?”

  “Once yo
u get to be my age, it’s just normal. You know, when I was younger, I could…”

  Jack went about the cursory examination using her physical responses to gauge the problem. He started to zone out and thought about Addy as his years of training took over. She’d surprised him last night with dinner.

  The aroma had hit him even before he’d opened the front door. A succulent meat, roasted vegetables, and a hint of something sweet in the oven.

  “What did you make?” he asked, and stopped in the doorway when he walked in.

  She’d picked up a small dining table and had draped a cream-colored linen tablecloth over it. A bottle of wine chilled in a silver bucket. From across the pony wall bar that separated the living room and kitchen, he’d watched her bustle about with her work face on.

  “Lahontan cutthroat trout,” she said with a smile. “It’s a local fish, recently restocked after commercial fishing almost decimated the population starting in the thirties.”

  “It smells amazing,” he said.

  “I hope it tastes as good. Go ahead, sit,” she said. “Open the wine, dinner will be ready in ten.”

  “Can I help with—”

  “No, seriously, I got this. I do this all day. You have to be tired. If you want to help, you can pour me a glass, too.”

  He opened the bottle, poured two glasses, and leaned over the bar to watch her work. Addy had been barefoot, and her curvy thighs shot out of worn khaki shorts she’d rolled up to nearly the crest of her legs.

  The kitchen was hot, and the baby hairs that framed her face clung to her dewy skin.

  Curves for days, he thought. The tan skin of the tops of her feet were in stark contrast to the pearly white of her at-home pedicure.

  He watched as she expertly pulled the seasoned vegetables out of the oven and moved a homemade pie to a rack for cooling. The fish came out last with a gust of rich, buttery aroma.

  As she plated their dishes, the steam rose to her face. She whipped out a kitchen towel and cleaned up the plates.

  “They don’t need to look pretty,” he said.

  She glanced up at him. “Why not?”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  They toasted as they sat across from each other. His mouth had watered as he cut into the flaky, moist fish.

 

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