“Honestly, you need more than a visual, you need a freakin’ tutorial. Just saying. Maybe it’s time to mount the horse again-”
“You need serious help,” I quipped while shaking my head.
Time to change the topic. That didn’t mean she was wrong. She was more right than I would admit. Sierra knew enough about my past not to push the issue, but I appreciated her brutal honesty. It came from a good place.
“Anyway, I really called to remind you ‘bout tonight and make sure you don’t let the new guy get your panties in a bunch. He’s supposedly a real ball of sunshine. So since your day’s basically gonna suck, just look forward to happy hour instead.”
“And this is making me feel better how? Wait. How do you know about him?” I balanced my cell in the crook of my neck and pushed my office door open. I lucked out; I didn’t have to share my office like the six other case managers did. In reality, it was a converted storage closet attached to the security office, but it served its purpose.
“Dodd was at the hospital yesterday working on an endowment contract, and he said all the nurses couldn’t shut up about the new guy. I meant to call you last night, but placenta brain took over.”
Basically, a brain surgeon and a dick was what she was saying.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Who are you kidding? It wouldn’t matter if he was Mr. Rogers, you’d still be running to the bathroom all morning. Is it sick and twisted that I’m jealous? Bet you’re feeling skinny.”
“Sierra. Do me a favor and just stop talking.” She knew me too well.
“You know I’m right. You’re awesome at your job, and sure, it sucks you have to start from scratch every month with all new people, but whatever. You’ll have your shit figured out by noon and then you’ll be back to saving the world. It probably works in your favor. You totally thrive under pressure. And tonight you get to pig out on Rosa’s guacamole and not worry about gaining a pound ‘cause you made plenty of room. Bitch! I’m jealous!”
“Just. Stop. Talking.”
“Fine. I’ll see your skinny ass at six-thirty. Wa-hoo, favorite night of the month!” She sounded entirely too bubbly for this hour.
“Of course I’ll be there. Now can I go to work?” My huff was half-hearted at best.
“Fine, you’re no fun, but if there are any hotties on your team this month, I’m gonna want details. Your eyes still work, right? Even if your vagina’s sealed shut by now.”
“I’m hanging up now. Go gestate or something, see ya tonight.”
I ended the call and dropped my stuff in a desk drawer. The clock read 6:20. Sierra was right. I was all twisted for no reason. Much like the night before the first day of school, anticipation was the killer. Once you got there, you realized it was pretty much the same story, different day.
My actual job stayed the same every month, just the characters changed. I was good at it too, despite the fact it had little to do with social work. And technically, I didn’t need to play into the hierarchical ass-kissing that the residents did, but the whole vibe still affected me. Everything depended on the team. Basically a mishmosh of ambitious personalities dictated the tone of the month. Some months it worked, some months it sucked. Either way, a margarita and killer tacos waited for me on the flip side of the day.
The nurses’ station was quiet when I got there. Rounds didn’t start for another five minutes, so I booted up my tablet and checked email. Suddenly a strong nudge to my hip sent me flying. My left foot jetted out to stop myself from face planting. I blushed from the near miss and glanced up to a familiar cocky smile and a pair of dimples to die for.
“Two rotations in a row, how’d I get so lucky?” Dr. Guy Hunter said in his raspy voice and tilted his head to the side.
“Hey you! I thought you were going to plastics this month.” My voice jumped two octaves, and my grin reached halfway up to my eyes.
“Sorry, doll. You’re stuck with me again!”
As if. Stuck was not the word I would use.
My feet wanted to break into a happy dance. Guy was a kickass third year surgery resident who I was lucky enough to work with a few times—last month on pediatrics being the most recent. He was one part arrogant, two parts awesome and looked like he stepped out of a California surf magazine. His disheveled blonde hair was a little on the long side, with slightly darker roots screaming for a little sunshine. He had to be a solid six feet and he fell in the lean and toned category. His face and arms were lightly tanned. I only imagined what he would look like if he didn’t work eighty-five hours a week and actually had the chance to see the light of day. His pale blue scrubs fell loose and low on his hips and he wore burnt orange crocs. He epitomized laidback and even slipped in a “dude” from time to time. No question, he was good looking. Add in the ocean blue eyes and the dimples, and he was more like hurt-your-eyes good looking. But what made him awesome was that he was one of the smartest residents in the surgery program with a great bedside manner. By third year most of the residents had adopted cocky and started trying out different styles of arrogant. Not Guy, he was grounded and his patients adored him, especially the women whose panties seemed to melt when he flashed his dimple.
Let’s not forget charming. And although I wasn’t into him like that, or anyone for that matter, I wasn’t immune. He spoke fluent flirt, but his dialect was never offensive or distasteful. The way all the nurses looked at him, I’d bet money he was the lead in more than a few NC-17 daydreams. Oscar-worthy, no less.
Don’t get me wrong, if I were to consider abandoning my no-dating-at-work policy, hell, my no-dating-in-general policy, Dr. Hunter probably would have made the shortlist. But we were just friends. I was in no way ready to open myself up to anyone again, so I could just enjoy all things Guy. And there was a lot to enjoy.
“Switched with Martin. He loves that plastics shit, and I’d rather not waste a month doing facelifts and fucking boob jobs. Why? You sick of me yet?”
My grin felt permanently stitched on my face. “You kidding? That’s awesome, I’m psyched.” This news made my morning take a serious turn for the better.
“So you want me to run the list with you?” He reached for my tablet and accidentally grazed my side. Knowing Guy, it was probably not an accident.
He tapped the screen and the list of patients on the neuro service opened. The bottom right side of the screen glowed 6:38. The nurses’ station was still empty. The whole floor was empty.
“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 we
ren’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 never said that, doll. He totally noticed.”
Read other books by Riley Mackenzie
Copyright © 2015 by Riley Mackenzie, LLC
All rights reserved.
ISBN-10: 5928701
ISBN-13: 978-1519777843
Cover design by Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations
Interior Design and Formatting by E.M. Tippetts Book Designs:
www.emtippettsbookdesigns.com
Edited by Lori Sabin
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the above author of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
All songs, song-titles, and lyrics excerpts quoted herein are the property of the respective copyright holders.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Books by Riley Mackenzie
About Abruption
Dedication
Quote
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Epilogue
Note from the Authors
Acknowledgements
Sneak Peak of Beautifully Awake
Copyright Notice
Abruption Page 27