Doctor Desirable: A Hero Club Novel

by Anjelica Grace

  First, I need more coffee and ibuprofen though.

  I could fill up a cup on any floor I visit; each inpatient unit has a little nook with an ice machine, coffee and cocoa machine, and even a few fountain drinks. But I need something larger, and stronger. I finish charting the patient I just worked with and pull my phone out, checking the messages. I find one from Bridget; it appears to have come in only ten minutes ago.

  Bridget: Lunch today?

  Me: I’m crazy busy today and I’m not sure when I’ll be free. Coffee break in ten?

  Bridget: Will you have enough time to tell me about last night?

  I told her before I left work yesterday what my plans were last night. She gave me a knowing smile and told me to have fun. I’m pretty sure she expects a sordid tale of kink and excess, but he turned all that down. Though, I think he may have mentioned something about spanking. But I could be wrong. That could be a dream thing, too. Tate and I have talked about it so much, it wouldn’t be the first time I had a dream where it came up.

  Me: I will. Coffee shop by the cafeteria?

  Bridget: I’ll see ya in ten.

  I slip my phone back into my pocket and make my way down to the PT room to grab my wallet out of my locker and check the updates to the week’s schedule. I was supposed to be on the pediatric floor again the rest of the week, but that’s not the case anymore. This schedule shows me transferred back to the Med-Surg again. I’m not entirely sure why the change.

  Miranda walks past me, looking at her phone, and I chase after, nearly tripping over my own two feet in my haste. “Hey, Miranda?”

  She stops where she is and turns around, smiling wide. “Hey, Dee, what’s up? Is everything okay?”

  “I think so. I mean, I’m good, but I just noticed I’m no longer working on the pediatric floor, so I’m worried I did something wrong. Why the change?”

  She smiles wide. “You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong. In fact, there was a request you be put back on the Med-Surg floor to work with those patients. A few really liked you and the doctors all agree you are a great asset to the team here at the hospital.”

  I’m trying really hard not to react and do a little happy dance, but I don’t think it’s possible for me to hide my surprise. Never in a million years did I think I would actually be requested by doctors and patients, nor did I think it would happen this quickly. “Oh my God. Wow. So, yeah, do I finish with peds today and transition back over tomorrow?”

  “That would be fantastic. You have a heavy day today; I’ll be jumping in on kids’ work with you once I finish up paperwork this afternoon. We have to deep clean before we end shift tonight too.”

  I feel my phone buzz in my pocket and nod my head. “That sounds good to me, I’ll head this way after I finish with patients and get started. I have to go get some coffee right now though. I’m a little sluggish today.”

  “Are you feeling all right? I know I tossed you into the deep end really quick with all this, I didn’t expect to lose people and get inundated with patients right as you stepped in.”

  “I’m okay, I just had a late night and woke up a little late today. Nothing a little caffeine won’t cure. Can I get you anything?”

  “Oh no, I’ve already had my share today. Thank you though. Enjoy your coffee, I’ll be up to help you with the kids later.”

  She turns back in the direction she was heading and I make my way to the door and down to the cafeteria.

  The halls are busy, the elevators full of people coming and going, visiting loved ones and anxious for procedures. It’s a surreal feeling knowing I’m working here and could potentially be helping any of these people or their loved ones. I love it. I’m so grateful for this job and all of the amazing things I’ve already experienced, and thankful for the wonderful people I’ve already met. Especially Bridget.

  I spot her standing just beside the coffee shop and give her a small wave as I walk through the throngs of people. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long, I ran into Miranda and had to clarify a big schedule change for me for the rest of the week.”

  “Nope, I just got down here. What are you drinking today?”

  I glance up at the menu and weigh all my options, vanilla, caramel, hot, cold, everything is a variation of the menu they offer at Starbucks. “I think I’ll go with a caramel Frappuccino, double shot of espresso in there.”

  She places her order and mine then pays for both, looking at me with a quizzical expression. “Late night?”

  “Yes and no.” I exhale and step away from the counter while we wait for our drinks. “It’s not what you think, we didn’t… I managed to down margaritas, more than I should have, and by the time we left I was pretty buzzed. I hit on him, made the first move, and then he turned me down.”

  Bridget’s eyes widen is surprise and her mouth forms a small O. “He said no? Really?”

  I nod my head and look around to make sure nobody can hear us. “We were kissing and I thought things were going there, then he pulled back.”

  “Ya know, there are rumors around here he’s gay. Nobody can confirm nor deny it. The man hasn’t found his way into a single soul from this hospital’s bed. And many have tried. Maybe that was it.”

  I weigh her words and the moments from last night, from the carnival, and any interaction or conversation we’ve had in between. “Nah, I don’t think that’s it. I think he just genuinely didn’t want to take advantage of my altered state of mind.”

  The barista puts our coffees on the edge of the counter when they’re done and we step over to grab them. She reads the labels and then passes me mine. “I hope that’s the case. You mentioned just coming off a relationship not too long ago, I’d hate for him to reel you in then spring the ‘I’m in to guys, but would love to be your friend’ card.”

  Her words do give me a slight hesitation, but I know in my heart of hearts he was just being a good man. That’s all there was to it.

  I hope.

  ****

  Nate

  I am one-hundred-percent certain I wasn’t supposed to hear a single word of their conversation. I’m also one-hundred-percent certain I’m annoyed they’re talking about it so loudly out in the open. Dee may be defending me, but I don’t need my information broadcast around the hospital for anyone else to hear either.

  I also don’t want Dee getting the wrong idea. It’s true, there are rumors I’m gay. I’ve heard them and I don’t give a shit. But I don’t want her to believe them or question me. It’s the thought that has me stepping up behind them, quietly, until I’m so close I can hear each of them swallow their first drinks.

  “I’m not gay, ladies,” I whisper so low I know for a fact nobody else will hear.

  Dee jumps and strangles on her coffee, and Bridget, to her credit, turns with an embarrassed look and casts her eyes away.

  “I didn’t think you were,” Dee snaps quickly between coughs. “Right, Bridget?”

  She looks to her friend who shakes her head. “She said you were just a gentleman, but as her only friend here in Rhode Island, it’s my duty to warn her of anything and everything, just in case.”

  I cross my arms over my chest, a move that garners different reactions from both ladies. Bridget rolls her eyes with an amused smile tugging at her lips, and Dee’s jaw twitches as she stares intently at my arms. “I appreciate that, but you aren’t the only one she has here, and if she has questions about me, it would be wiser to come to me with them. After all, rumors around here are hardly ever right. And when they are right, it gets pretty personal and intrusive. Don’t you think?”

  I know she and her husband had a hospital fling at one point. And I have heard stories about all the rumors and gossip that surrounded him at the hospital—some true, some false, or exaggerated—before they were openly together. It’s a backhanded reminder, but one I know she’s following when her eyes harden and she nods. “You’re right. Rumors and the gossip mill here can be awful. I’m sorry for dragging you into it.”

&nb
sp; “Apology is accepted.” Dee flinches a little at my tone and I take a deep breath then try again. “Honestly, it’s okay. And I do appreciate you looking out for her, but I’m not out to get her. And I’m not gay.”

  Bridget digests my words and agrees with the subtle up and down of her head. “I should probably get back to work. Text me later, Dee.” The girls say goodbye and exchange a glance, then Bridget starts to walk away, adding as she passes, “Dr. Alexander.”

  Once I know she’s gone, I take in Dee. She looks tired, her hair is in a messy bun, and if I had to guess she’s probably running on fumes, but she looks amazing. “I tried to text you a few times. You didn’t answer, I thought maybe you were pissed at me.”

  “Oh, shit! I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket when I was talking to my boss and then again on my way down here, I never checked it. Did you need something?”

  To make sure we’re okay after last night.

  “Nah, I wanted to check on you real fast, then see if you got the news.”

  Her head tilts, and she gives me a puzzled look. “What news?”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t heard yet. Your presence has been requested on the Med-Surg unit, due to my and a few other doctors agreeing you have been a great fit for our patients. I figured you would have been told by now.”

  “That was you?” Her eyes narrow, brows furrowing together. “Who said I wanted to move back upstairs? What if I was enjoying the kids?”

  “Well, as a single doctor, no, as a group of doctors, we have to act in our patients’ best interests. You are the person we wanted. And given my position here, as well as theirs, and taking into consideration you’re still in a probationary period, you don’t get a say.” Again, this was not how this conversation or us seeing each other after last night was supposed to go. And again, just like every other time, I find her defiance and assertiveness sexy and lethal to my mind and body.

  “You have some nerve,” she hisses out. “I thought we agreed you would try. Not step up your game of being the biggest ass there ever was.”

  “Excuse me? This isn’t me being an ass. This is me giving you credit and respect for being good at your job, while also keeping my job and my patients a priority. I told you, Dee, work wouldn’t change. I would only try to rein in my jerk mentality with you. And I have. But you’re irritating me right now.”

  She inhales long, taking as much air deep into her lungs as she can, before she exhales slowly. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But I don’t like having my job messed with because someone can’t put their personal feelings aside. And you requesting it sounds a lot like you using your position to keep me close.”

  I take a step closer to her and lean in, whispering, “I don’t play games at work. And I’ll never jeopardize either of our jobs for sex or whatever we are doing.”

  It was a poor choice of words. I recognize it the minute her eyes seek out mine and I find red-hot anger burning in them. “Whatever we’re—Are you kidding me? I guess I did dream all that shit last night.”

  “Dream what?” Now it’s my turn to be confused and caught off guard. What the hell does she think she dreamed?

  “The part where you were a perfect gentleman, you took care of me, even kissed me goodnight, and tucked me in. There is no way the man who did that and the man dictating my work schedule right now are the same man.”

  “Jesus, Dee.” I scrub my hand over my face and step to the register to order a drink and take a few minutes to gather my own thoughts. She watches me close, glancing at her phone while she waits, and her eyes widen.

  She must’ve just read my texts. She looks up at me again, then back down to the screen. I know what she’s seeing there.

  Me: Good morning Gorgeous. I know you probably felt rough today. I’m heading down for a coffee do you want one?

  Me: Oh, and, sorry I had to grab your phone from your purse, but I didn’t see a clock or alarm anywhere else and I knew you worked today. I didn’t want to be the cause of a mark on your record so soon into your new job. Let me know how the morning went and how you’re feeling when you can.

  “You checked on me. Like, really checked on me. And you did take care of me last night.” She steps closer and slides her phone into her pant pocket.

  “I did. To both. I promised you I would before I kiss—Uh, before I left.”

  “What were you about to say, Nate?” she asks just under her breath.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Please? Tell me? Honesty, remember.” Her asking for honesty right now after we just went back and forth, again, is sort of funny, but contrary to what she apparently thinks of me, I am trying.

  “Before I kissed you goodnight. It was on your forehead. You were passing out…”

  “So that did happen?”

  “It wasn’t a dream. I’d bet most of what you’re thinking about and remembering actually happened. But I wouldn’t know because you’ve been very frosty toward me so far.”

  “I’m sorry. I’d love to talk, but I have to get to another patient. I was just meeting Bridget for a quick refill. I am very sluggish this morning. And a lot of things are kind of hazy and kind of not from last night. Can we talk later? I’ll buy you lunch as an apology for this morning.”

  “That depends.”

  She glances toward the exit and me then looks at her phone. “On what?”

  “What if you buy me dinner instead?”

  Nineteen

  Dee

  What was I thinking? How could I have suggested we order in and eat at my place instead of going out for dinner?

  That’s right. I wasn’t thinking. I was acting impulsively because I’m still really freaking tired from last night and somehow, I figured inviting him here for dinner was a better alternative than postponing. I could examine the decision, why I would rather invite him over here tonight than miss out on the dinner I agreed to—a dinner I should probably have postponed—but I don’t want to. It would require me to make some admissions it would be dumb to make already.

  He doesn’t trust. He doesn’t seem like the type to commit, and if I broke up with my ex because he wasn’t in it for the same reasons I was, why would I subject myself to the same fate here? Yet, I can’t help myself. I like him.

  I like how he pushes my buttons.

  I like how much of an asshole he is, yet beneath the protective, hardened shell he displays, he’s actually an incredible man.

  I like how kissing him last night made me feel.

  And more than all of those things, I like the fact he denied me last night for me. As much as I hate to admit it, I was too drunk to make that decision. The liquor snuck up on me and tripped me up fast, but he did something I wonder how many other men in his position would’ve done—he stopped us.

  Flashes from last night have come back to me throughout the day. Even in my drunken haze, I can recall the feel of his arousal growing against me while we made out in the parking lot—a make-out session I initiated. He wanted it as badly as I did, but he stopped. If nothing else would garner a little bit of trust; that certainly did. He wouldn’t have taken advantage of me last night, I also know I wanted it then, and in all honesty, I’d probably have woken up regretting the alcohol today but not the experience with him. I’ve taken walks of shame in the morning before. I don’t have many walks in my past, but I have enough experience there to know the guilt I would’ve felt would have been my own at being stupid and drinking too much.

  I invited him here because rash, impulsive, too fast whatever the hell it may be, I want to spend time with him, and maybe, just maybe, get back to the kissing. And maybe to apologize for last night.

  My behavior.

  My reactions.

  Passing the fuck out on him before he even walked out of my room.

  I glance around my apartment. The floors are freshly cleaned; candles are lit with my favorite scents throughout. Each candle complements the others in the rooms nicely. My kitchen is clean and my dishes are put away.
I look more responsible than I probably came across as last night.

  Now I just need to change out of my work clothes and do my hair. I glance at the clock and huff. I have a whole thirty minutes to clean up, change, and make myself more presentable. But what do I wear?

  There’s only one person who can help with this. It’s time to invoke best friend protocol.

  Me: Tate, this is a BFF emergency. No questions tonight, I don’t have time. Help!

  She doesn’t answer right away, so I set out to start getting myself ready. I can do my hair and freshen up without her help at least. I brush my teeth in a rush, soaking my mouth in the strong after brush gargle with mouthwash, then brush my hair out and start to put some curly beachy waves in it.

  My phone dings when I’m halfway through my hair and it has to be her, otherwise I’m screwed.

  Tate: You better have answers tomorrow. BFF emergencies usually revolve around me. Is it Dr. Desirable?

  Me: It is. He’s coming over for dinner. I may have gotten drunk and passed out on him last night. What should I wear? Dressy, casual dressy, or yoga pants and a tee?

  Tate: Gah! I have so many questions. What’s the purpose of tonight? Talking or getting laid?

  Me: Maybe both?

  Tate: Go with casual dressy. Nice jeans that hug your ass and a semi-casual, semi-relaxed top. Light makeup only. Don’t go all-out and look like you’re really trying.

  Me: I have beachy curls, light gloss, and mascara.

  Tate: Good girl! Tight jeans and a good shirt. Let him know you tried but not too hard.

  I step into my walk-in closet and glance over my clothes. I have a black top, exposed shoulders, three-quarter sleeves, and a tight pair of sequined boot cut jeans. I throw it all on quickly and send it to Tate with a picture.