by Mia Kayla
Oh, hell no.
I stood taller, my bones tensing like a cat ready to spring in between them.
“It’s okay, Billy Bob,” Clary cooed as she replaced Anne and held her son.
Unbelievable. A minute ago, she’d wanted nothing to do with him.
In my periphery, I saw Dr. Klein’s mouth twitch at the boy’s name. Though Clary’s fakeness raked on my nerves, I released a dry cynical chuckle. Being fake was my biggest pet peeve. You should never be fake, unless a man was lying on top of you and you wanted to spare his feelings.
Dr. Klein continued with protocol, asking the questions he needed to ask before he continued with the stitches. The laceration stretched deep enough you could see the child’s muscle. His wound spanned more than one-fourth of an inch deep, verifying the need for stitches. I assisted and held the boy down, watching Dr. Klein’s hands administer a numbing shot and steadily mend the boy’s wounds. His fingers moved slowly and deliberately, and my imagination went wild, visualizing how his hands would feel on me. With the same precision, I was sure.
“So, Billy, are you into any sports?” Dr. Klein’s head peeked up as he continued to suture the cut. “Are you a Mets or Yankees fan?”
The diversion was working as the boy mouthed Mets through his tear-filled eyes.
“I root for the Mets as well.” He smiled warmly at the boy.
A few minutes later, he finished and the boy seemed better, all patched up. His loud cries had turned into soft whimpers.
Dr. Klein patted Billy’s shoulder. “All done, buddy.”
Clary stepped away from the bed and, without warning, pulled my doctor into a half hug. He moved away, but not before she squeezed his big arms. “Thank you,” she said in a tone that didn’t match her real voice. “You saved my son.”
His eyes widened as though he wasn’t expecting such an overly affectionate gesture.
My fists bunched at my sides, annoyance rising within me.
Saved her son? He needed stitches on his damn knee.
I didn’t know why this surprised me, though. Clary had always reigned as queen of melodrama in high school. I doubted things had changed.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, backing away, looking slightly uncomfortable.
I bit my tongue before a snippy comment fell out of my mouth, and I was turning to leave, when the bling on her ring finger caught my eye. It was massive and gaudy in a way that said ‘I’m a gold-diggin’ hoe’.
So she was married. And flirting with Dr. Klein. Figures.
“So, who’s the lucky guy who brought you to New York?” I asked sweetly to disguise my disgust.
She seemed taken aback as Dr. Klein cleaned up, disposed of his gloves, and moved to the sink. “His name is Arthur Jennings the Third.” Her tone oozed with arrogance as she turned her nose up. “He’s into real estate.”
Now that Dr. Klein was blatantly ignoring her, not interested in her trying-too-hard self, she felt the need to brag about the poor loser who’d won her.
I forced a smile as I gritted my teeth. “I’m so happy for you. You deserve to be happy after Tommy left you for your sister. How is Abigail, anyway?”
Clary blanched, and I tried my hardest not to laugh. If looks could kill, I’d be dead on the floor.
Dr. Klein moved into Clary’s line of sight. “He’ll be fine. The stitches should dissolve within a week or two.”
“Thanks so much.” And there it was, that annoying fake tone, which sounded like a squeaky irritating little mouse. The one that made me want to puke my dinner all over her Louboutins.
He offered her a small smile, one that usually made my heart swell, but not today, when Clary was all up in my face, dampening my mood.
I propped one hand on my hip. “I’m sure your husband will be so glad your son is okay,” I called out as Dr. Klein waved to Anne and Billy Bob and then exited the room.
Clary’s eyes turned murderous as she flipped toward me. “Oh, boy. I see Kendy has her sights on a certain doctor.” She picked up her designer purse and glided it up to her slender shoulder. “I wonder if I should warn him about you. Does he know?” She flipped her long red locks off her shoulders. “That you can’t keep a man?”
My muscles tensed as I fisted my hands at my sides, my nails digging into my palms. The next second, I charged toward her, mere inches from her face. I had a sudden urge to knock her cold on her ass. But that wouldn’t have hurt her as much as she’d already hurt me.
She reeled back, but I moved even closer, just so she understood that she had messed with the wrong girl. “What did you say?” I tilted my head to egg her on.
She took a step back.
When she didn’t speak, because she was a chicken shit, I narrowed my eyes as I threw words out at her like stones. “Expensive clothing, designer bags, and even a new city won’t take the sleaze out of Bowlesville’s biggest skank.”
At that, I turned around and walked out the door, but not before she yelled out, “You know Cole was sleeping with me the whole time you two were together.”
My fingers twitched as I stopped mid-step. Their indiscretion had hurt me, but the pain Cole had caused went above the cheating. Something only Beth knew . . . because she was the only one I’d told.
It took all my self-control not to lose it in front of her. I gritted my teeth, stomped down the hall, and tried to calm my breathing. I walked into the supply room, shut the door behind me, rested against the wall, and slid down to the floor. My chin trembled as I tried to calm the emotions brewing inside me.
Breathe. Just breathe.
I pulled my knees up, dropping my chin to my chest as painful memories paraded through my mind. A lump formed in my throat, and my body trembled as a glimmer of my past resurfaced. It was amazing how one experience with a man could alter your view on every man in your life.
Every relationship post-Cole had been short-lived. Though I didn’t know if I could call my quick hook-ups real relationships.
My eyes fell shut. I couldn’t do this now. Not at work. I couldn’t let him affect me. He’d already taken too much.
My phone buzzed in my pocket again, thankfully breaking me from my thoughts and bringing me back to the present. Standing up, I swiped the budding tears from my eyes. I was bigger than this. I had my eyes set on someone new now, someone perfect for me. And tonight I’d drown myself in work and forget about Chlamydia Clary, Cole, and anything remotely related to my past.
***
BRIAN
The chemical smell of the hospital wafted through the room as I applied pressure to the cut.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay here? Hold your hand or something?” Trey smirked, though his eyes narrowed in concern.
“Nah, go ahead. I wouldn’t want you to cry or pass out from all the blood,” I joked back, though my own sole focus was on not passing out. Once Trey left the room, I rested against the hospital bed, focusing on the ceiling.
When the door opened, I couldn’t help but take in the attractive woman in the blue scrubs. The cotton fabric hugged her hips and accentuated her well- endowed chest. Even lightheaded, I could appreciate the curves. Then, when my eyes landed on a familiar pair of blue eyes, I couldn’t help but sigh at my luck.
Fucking-A!
What were the chances that the nurse in front of me was the best friend of the girl who’d broken my heart?
“Kendy?” I had to make sure my luck hadn’t just gotten worse.
At her name, her head flipped up from the clipboard, and her eyes flew to my chest then up to meet my eyes. I knew when she recognized me, because a swift shadow of shock swept across her features before she threw me a mean girl look.
I clenched my jaw and stifled a laugh. If I hadn’t wanted to see her, the expression on her face indicated she wanted to see me even less.
“It’s Kendall.” Her tone was harsh, and the scowl on her face implied she was already in a foul mood. She lifted her head and started talking to the ceiling. “Serio
usly? What have I done? Is this some cruel joke? Am I getting punk’d here?” She scanned the room, looking for filming cameras, which clearly weren’t there, then she fixed me with another glare. “I’m getting you another nurse.”
A deep chuckle escaped my mouth. Too weird. What were the chances?
I found this situation unlikely, too coincidental, but even more humorous. I forced the smile off my face. Even annoyed, I had to admit she looked adorably cute. Her eyes wavered on what to do next as she bit down on her bottom lip.
The blood continued to drip down my face, onto my bare chest, as the sticky T-shirt I held soaked it up. “I’m bleeding here, Kendy.”
“I. Am. Not. Kendy. My name is Kendall,” she huffed and charged toward me, her temper rising with her words. “Forget it. The sooner I do this, the sooner you’ll be out of my hair.” She ripped my T-shirt from my hand and slanted toward me.
The sweet scent of peaches entered my nostrils. Shampoo or perfume? Whatever it was, I angled closer to get another whiff. The scent was intoxicating, or maybe it was the loss of blood causing my head to spin.
“How small is New York City?” she mumbled to herself. “To the point that I’ve seen two people from my past . . . well, sort of . . . and in my hospital?”
“Your hospital?” I raised an eyebrow, amused at her annoyance.
She threw me a nasty look, her eyes turning a darker shade of blue, as if they changed color with her moods. “Yes, sir. My freaking hospital.” She pulled a pair of nitrile gloves from her pocket and slipped them on. The snap of the gloves against her skin echoed through the room.
When she opened up an alcohol swab and swiped at the open wound at my brow, I flinched as the cold stung against my skin.
“First, Chlamydia Clary, and now you. Everyone from freaking Bowlesville is creeping into my business.” Her clipped curt tone was the complete opposite to her gentle professional touch, which had a calming effect, though the throbbing pain was still present.
“I’m not from Bowlesville,” I corrected her. “I’m from Madison, and this is the main hospital in the metropolitan area.” Anyone in the city who needed to be rushed to a hospital would end up at New York Cornell.
“So?!” She pressed the alcohol swab farther into my wound, and I winced at the burn. I wondered if she did it on purpose. A second later, her face softened. “Sorry,” she mumbled, dropping the swab.
I reached for her free hand, my body acting on its own accord, and our eyes locked. A jolt of electricity surged between us. At five-five, an overall cuteness surrounded her. How had I never noticed it before? Her blonde hair was perfectly curled, and her makeup only highlighted her soft yet stunning features.
She smirked, catching me staring. “I’m not your type, boy.” A moment later, her hand brushed against my chest. “I’m way out of your league.” She leaned in closer, inches from my face, her breath tickling my skin as she whispered in my ear, “And I most definitely don’t fuck good boys.”
She drew her hand back as the blood from my wound immediately rushed south instead. Her naughty mouth was so out of her small town character, but so damn hot.
“Ouch,” I said, placing a hand on my own heart, feigning pain. I was hurting all right, but the ache wasn’t in my chest.
She flipped her hair over her shoulder, turned, and strode to the counter. I watched her perfectly sculpted ass move from side to side.
“It’s not that you’re not cute. I’m just not into your type.” She threw the gloves and swab in the red trash can then moved toward the table.
My curiosity was piqued. “And what is your type?” My eyes zoned in on her apple ass as she turned to lay out her medical supplies on the metal table.
She shrugged casually. “Not the good boy, that’s for sure.”
“I was just in a bar fight. How am I a good boy?” I silenced another chuckle.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m dating someone,” she said.
My shoulders sunk at her words. They shouldn’t have. I didn’t need or have time for a girlfriend, so I didn’t understand why I felt even an ounce of disappointment.
“Who beat you up?” She changed topics on me so fast I got whiplash.
I cringed as I remembered the whole stupid story. “Some random guy.”
“What did you do to get this guy super pissed enough to draw blood?” She quirked an eyebrow, a sly smile on her face.
“Hit on his girl and tried to take her home.”
Her gentle laughter rippled through the air, the change in her mood even more refreshing than her earlier annoyance. “No, you did not.” Her eyes showed amusement, surprise even.
“Not a nice guy move, is it? Hitting on another guy’s girl?”
“But you didn’t know, did you? And I bet you didn’t even get in a good hit.” She crossed her arms over her chest and quirked an eyebrow.
I pushed my fist into my palm, playing the tough guy. “You should’ve seen the other guy. He could barely even stand, let alone walk out of that club when I was done. Him and his friends.”
Her eyes flickered to my biceps before landing back on my face. “Really?”
I shook my head as a deep chuckle escaped my lips. “No, the guy handed me my ass.”
An irresistible devastating grin spread across her face. Her laughter was infectious, causing my lips to turn up wider in response. I noticed she had the cutest subtle dimple on her chin, and a sudden urge to run my tongue along her jawline came over me.
“Come on, did you even get a hit in? Surprise him with your fist against his jaw?”
I shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t want to deal with it. I just wanted to get home.” Mentally cussing out Trey, I remembered I hadn’t even wanted to go out in the first place.
She tilted her head, her blue eyes studying me. “See? You’re too nice.”
“Nope. I just have bad luck.” Lately, that stroke of bad luck kept on stroking.
A knock on the door broke our conversation. When the doctor peered in, Kendy gave a nod, straightened, and popped her hip out, throwing a charming smile his way.
Her boyfriend?
I took him in, already sizing him up.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Klein.” He strolled in, looking like he had a stick up his ass as he shook my hand. He had a weak handshake for someone of his stature and build. Being a little over six feet tall, I’d expected a firmer grip. He stood no taller than five-eight as his eyes assessed me.
“Brian Benson.”
Kendy cleared her throat, and we turned our attention her way. “Hi, Dr. Klein.” A forced sweetness, which hadn’t been there a minute ago, flowed out of her. She fluttered her eyelashes, yet something kept them apart.
Maybe they’re not together and she’s just flirting with him.
I coughed to cover up my laugh, fixing her with a stare. It was funny to watch her turn professional all of a sudden when, a minute ago, she’d been reaming me out for bleeding at her hospital.
“Brian Benson, twenty-five-year-old male—”
“I gave the doctor my name already.” I tried to hide the amusement in my tone, but failed.
She threw me the dirtiest look, but composed herself, covering it up with a smile when she realized that still had Dr. Stiff’s attention. “A one-inch laceration by the eyebrow caused by a major impact to the face. Heavy bleeding for the last twenty minutes, indicated on his paperwork. No dizziness reported by the patient. He’ll most likely need stitches.”
Kendy handed the doctor some blue gloves, her hand lingering on his, but he seemed unaffected as he turned to me and proceeded to do his doctoral duties. I caught disappointment on her face, confirming her feelings were indeed one-way. That shouldn’t have made me feel good, but it did.
Dr. Stiff numbed the area with a local anesthetic, threaded the needle, and then placed a hand on my shoulder, indicating I should lie down. I followed his lead.
“We’re going to stitch you up. Just a couple to close this wound. They should dissolve in one
to two weeks.” His chipper tone irked me. Like he wasn’t about to stick a damn needle through my skin. I was sure they’d seen more gruesome injuries in the ER.
Resting against the hospital bed, I closed my eyes, and then flinched when I felt the needle pierce my skin. As many times as I’d had stitches from playing football and being the rambunctious only boy in the family, I should’ve been used to the pain. But pain was pain. Before I had counted backward from ten, he’d completed his task.
“All right, we’re done here.”
I sat up, touching my brow as the roughness of the stitches brushed against my fingertips. He met me at eye level, forced a small smile, and shook my hand before quickly turning away. The gesture seemed practiced, like he’d learned it in medical school.
I pushed myself up to a sitting position. “Thanks, doc,” I said as he reached into his pocket for his phone.
He barely acknowledged my presence before turning to Kendy. Where had this guy learned his bedside manner? “Kendall, can you clean up here? I’ve been paged to the front.”
“Of course, Dr. Klein.” There was that lilt in her voice again, and her eyes lit up like fireworks while he fumbled with his phone, then left the room.
She paid no attention to me as she tidied up the medical tools and my bloody mess.
“So, is that the lucky man?”
Her eyes finally met mine, sparkling as they did when Dr. Stiff had been in the room. “Yeah. Isn’t he divine?”
I could hear the swoon in her voice.
Ugh.
My eyes flickered back at the door, where Stiff had walked out. Was she serious? I wanted to tell her straight up ‘no’; he was far from divine.
“How long have you been together?” I knew they weren’t an item, but I wanted to entertain myself with her reply.
“Well . . .” My question had caught her by surprise, and her face faltered. “We’re . . . we’re not really together, just yet.” Her cheeks flushed red, her self-confidence fading.
I lifted an eyebrow, waiting for some explanation as I barely bit back a shit-eating grin.