How to Save a Surgeon

by C. M. Stone

  Judging by the tense way Darla held herself, her face an almost expressionless mask, she must have heard at least his last comment. How she could think there was anything wrong with herself, he didn’t know. Her scrubs couldn’t hide the full perfection of her curves, particularly not after he’d seen them flaunted in that dress. She had her glasses on again and her lips looked just as tempting without the red lipstick. Her hair was back in its signature ponytail, but still looked soft and inviting, too. The sensory memory of how it had felt sliding between his fingers made him clench his hands.

  “Hi Dr. McGaffey, DeMatteo.”

  He cleared his throat. “Morales. Did you get enough sleep last night?”

  She didn’t move in his direction. “I’m fine.”

  So many doubts and worries had plagued him since they’d kissed, he’d been sure he’d run out of worst case scenarios to obsess over. Darla being hurt and hating him was a new one, and he felt just a little ill wondering just how badly he’d fucked up. “I guess we’d better get our rounds going. Talk to you later, McGaffey.”

  A little further down the hall, he took her patient updates from her. There didn’t look to be anything surprising or worrying in any of them, to his relief. At least he could focus on a single disaster at a time.

  “Good.” He handed the tablet back to her. “Have you tried that trick with the coffee and the nap yet?”

  Her skin actually went paler, and he could see her jaw clench. “No.”

  So much for trying for a neutral conversation. He forged ahead anyway, needing something to fill the strained silence. “It helps. I doubt I would’ve made it through my residency without it.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “Listen, about last night…”

  “It was a mistake. It won’t happen again. Don’t talk about it. I know.”

  Her flat, cold tone stung as badly as her words, and for a moment, he could only gape at her. “That isn’t what I was going to say.”

  “No? Were you going to say it nicer to my face?”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything like that at all, to your face or otherwise.”

  “Then what?”

  He froze, searching his mind. Was he going to say something like that? There were a few different versions of what he was going to say that he’d practiced, and now he couldn’t remember any of them. “I’m a little worried about doing anything that could detract from your education.”

  Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses. “Yeah, that’s the nice version. I won’t bring it up if you don’t, okay?”

  “Darla.”

  “What?”

  He was silent. More than anything else, he wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her again and reassure her that whatever she’d overheard, it wasn’t meant to be hurtful. Just his own blundering attempt to cover up how he really felt. It should have been obvious to her, but it wasn’t. And he’d made it all so much worse.

  “Nothing. Let’s just work.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Shopping still didn’t fill her with whatever thrill she was supposed to get out of it, but Darla had to admit that looking at clothes with Rachel and Nikki did improve her mood.

  “I just don’t know what the hell to think. He was talking about how insecure I am behind my back, when the last time he saw me I was actually feeling pretty good about myself. And then he acts like he’s doing me a favor, saying he doesn’t want to distract from my education by pretending nothing happened between us.” Darla held up a tiny negligee that she was uncertain she could get over her head, let alone the rest of her. “But he couldn’t get enough of me at my apartment.” Well, right up until he thought her roommate was approaching. Then he shut down quicker than a quarantine after a call from the CDC.

  Nikki pulled the negligee out of her hands and replaced it with a pair of green and white striped boy shorts. “Reminds me of dating girls in the closet. They’re so hot and cold all the time, always afraid of getting caught, and that just makes them all the more desperate when you’re together.”

  Rachel shook her head, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “I’m so glad I’ve put those days of drama behind me.”

  “Preach.” Nikki kissed Rachel on the cheek.

  Darla sank down into one of the overstuffed chairs tucked around the lingerie store. She assumed they were for waiting boyfriends and husbands, but maybe sitting and brooding over their love lives was what all women did while underwear shopping. “So I should just forget about him then?”

  “Oh, I never said that. Did I say that?” Nikki dropped a few more articles of clothing into Darla’s lap, then continued her search. “Whether or not you want to deal with the drama is entirely up to you.”

  “I just hate feeling like a loser.”

  Rachel leaned down and fixed her with a hard look. “So stop acting like one. Pick out some clothes you like. Feel sexy and awesome. You don’t need him to feel good about yourself.”

  Darla considered the clothing in her lap, then stretched a pair of black lace panties between her hands. “I spend sixteen hours a day in scrubs. Clothes can’t make much of a difference for me.”

  “Hey, you’re not the only woman in the world who’s had a shitty uniform for work,” Nikki called over from the display she’d wandered to. “That’s why we’re looking at panties and bras. You wear that under a potato sack, and you’ll still feel like a sexy bitch.”

  …

  Darla wasn’t sure she felt like a sexy bitch, but two full shifts without working with Jackson had dulled the pain a little. Enough that when she had to do rounds with him, it was just a vague ache.

  “Everything looks good, Mr. Peterson.” Jackson smiled at their patient, the construction worker she’d cried in front of on her first day. “I don’t see any reason not to discharge you today.”

  Mr. Peterson looked like he might be the one to cry now. He reached over to squeeze his wife’s hand tightly. “I can’t thank you enough. I really thought that fall had crippled me.”

  “Well, we can’t take all the credit. Our neurology department certainly helped there, but Morales and I did do our best. Do you have any other questions or concerns?”

  “When can I get back to work?”

  “That’s best decided by your physical therapist. Morales?”

  She mentally ran through everything she’d done for the day, then bit her lip to stop from swearing in front of the patient. “I forgot to set up the referral.”

  Jackson drew his brows together. “Then why don’t you go do that?”

  She ran to set up the referral and enter the paperwork for releasing the patient. There was so much to do and it just kept piling up around her she wanted to scream. A glance at the clock on the wall verified her shift was nearly over. If she took a pill and started falling asleep, at least there wouldn’t be any harm from it, assuming she made it home. She supposed passing out on a bus and riding around in it all night could be a problem.

  “Hey, Morales.”

  She looked up to see Richard Mevlyn looming over her, smiling like he had a secret. That knowing look in his eyes had her shrinking in on herself automatically, her mind running through all possible scenarios. Had she messed up somewhere with a patient? Did someone find out she was planning on switching programs at the end of the year?

  “Hello, Dr. Mevlyn.” Her mouth was bone dry.

  His smile grew wider. “You and DeMatteo were getting pretty close at the gala.”

  Shit. Maybe Jackson hadn’t been overly paranoid after all. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He shrugged. “I guess girls like you have to take what attention they can.”

  She stiffened, a cold rage flooding her veins. Punching an attending surgeon would probably be bad for her career, but the urge was overwhelming. She wanted to ask what “girls like her” meant, but there was no possible answer that she actually wanted to hear. She bit her tongue.

  His smile wilted slightly, likely disappointed that
she hadn’t risen to the bait. “I thought it was a good idea to warn you about DeMatteo. He likes going after the vulnerable.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “He has no interest in me. I don’t need your warnings.”

  “Oh.” Mevlyn straightened up, looking thoughtful. “Well. Never mind then.”

  “Thank you for your concern.” She said it as politely as she could, hoping that would be the end of it, but she could see by the expression on Mevlyn’s face it wouldn’t be.

  “I did want to ask you a question.” He smiled again.

  Her skin was trying to crawl right off her body, and she wished fervently that he’d leave her alone soon. Other people at the hospital seemed to enjoy the smarmy attention of Mevlyn, but she couldn’t see the appeal. “What’s that?”

  “I couldn’t place your accent. Where are you from?”

  Her accent? She was taken aback for a moment. “Uh, Chicago.”

  “No, I mean originally.”

  Under the best of circumstances, she would have found his approach frustrating. Sometimes it could just be friendly ignorance, but the way Mevlyn looked at her gave her a gross feeling. It wasn’t helped by the fact that Jackson had warned her about him.

  “I’ve got a lot of work. Excuse me.” She grabbed the phone again to pretend to make another call. Anything to avoid having to speak to him a moment longer. That seemed to do it and he finally walked away. She glared at his back, then noticed Jackson coming toward her. Before he got there a petite brunette caught up to him and grabbed him into a hug.

  Jackson looked pleasantly surprised by this, and the woman smiled up at him. “You’re coming out with me tonight!”

  Three days and he already had a new woman. Darla had no right to be jealous, but she could still feel it prickling away at her. The least he could do is not flaunt it right in her face.

  Jackson sighed. “Eliza, I’d love to, but I’ve just had a really busy day. I’d rather go home and go to sleep.”

  “And that’s why you’re coming with Chris and me. You’re going to turn into an old man before your time at this rate.”

  Chris? Well, maybe it wasn’t someone he was hooking up with, if they were going out with another person. She thought she could vaguely remember him talking about his friend Chris before. The woman could be Chris’s girlfriend, then. Silly as it was, she hoped that was the case.

  “Morales, do you have Mr. Peterson’s referral?”

  The question startled her out of her thoughts. “Yes, Dr. DeMatteo. And he’s all set to be discharged.”

  Eliza looked at her in interest, her expression warm and inviting. “Oh, is this your mentee?”

  Jackson nodded, looking reluctant. “If you want to call her that.”

  “I’m Jackson’s sister, Eliza. It’s nice to finally meet you. Darla, right?”

  “Um, yeah. Hi.” Had Jackson been talking about her? That introduction eased some of the tension in her shoulders. His sister. Not a girlfriend. He’d been talking about her to his sister. Then she felt a flash of annoyance at herself. She had no reason to be relieved.

  “You should come out with us, too. I imagine the hospital’s working you to death. I remember Jackson’s horror stories from his residency.”

  The invitation took a few seconds to sink in. When it did, her eyes widened in horror. Having to deal with him at work all day had been bad enough, but actually socializing with him was too much. “No way. It’s not…I mean, I don’t mind…I…”

  Jackson looked thoughtful. “You should come with us, Morales.”

  She closed her mouth rather than try to stammer through more protests. And what about all his bullshit about keeping their distance? “Can I talk to you privately for a second?”

  He excused himself from his sister and walked a few feet away with Darla. His expression was bland. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking and that only annoyed her more.

  “What the hell are you doing?” She kept her voice to a hiss as an added precaution against being overheard. “I thought you didn’t want to detract from my education.”

  He spread his hands in a gesture of futility. “No, I said I was a little worried about it. It’s a friendly night out. Can’t we have that?”

  “The gala was a friendly night out, too.” And that had ended so very friendly she had to force herself not to dwell on the memories. “Do you even want me to go or are you just playing weird games with me?”

  His hands dropped to his sides, his posture growing defensive. “I’m not playing games. You seemed really upset before, and I thought this might be fun for you.”

  “So it’s a pity invite.” She crossed her arms. “You want me to go to make you feel better about making me feel bad.”

  “No.” He gave his head a small shake, and she thought she detected a slight roll to his eyes. “I wanted a chance to make things better than how we’d left them. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

  She hesitated. The thought of taking the bus home and eating ramen noodles before passing out and coming back for another sixteen hour shift wasn’t remotely appealing. She raised her chin, doing her best to look down her nose at him despite their height difference. “Oh, I’m going. Just don’t think it absolves you of anything.”

  This time he definitely rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Cascata’s a gorgeous place for a golf course, but you can’t even see it from the road driving in. Just another rich boy’s playground hidden from the rest of us.” Chris wrapped an arm around Eliza’s shoulders, leaning back in the booth. “Wasting water aside, I prefer the desert as it’s meant to be.”

  After leaving the hospital, Chris had suggested they stop at a bar and grill in a Strip casino for burgers before continuing onward. Jackson had offered to buy Darla a beer, but she’d stuck with her water and used it to wash down a pill. Was it medication or did she just have a headache? It was hard to quell the medical curiosity, but there was no polite way to ask.

  “The mountains are beautiful.” Darla swirled a French fry in her ranch dressing before popping it in her mouth. “I just don’t really know what you’d do in the desert for fun, though. Are there a lot of walking trails out there?”

  Eliza smiled and nodded. “Tons. If you like hiking, there’re a lot of options.”

  “Hiking’s okay. I jog around the park near my apartment when I can, but some of the mountains here look pretty intense.”

  “You can take riding trails too.” Chris’s eyes were lit like an evangelist about to save a soul.

  To Jackson’s amusement, Darla wrinkled her nose. “Me and horses don’t mix so well.”

  He leaned over a little closer to her, lowering his voice as if sharing a special secret. “Me neither. Watch out for these two, though. They don’t like to take no for an answer.”

  That close to her he could smell the clean scent of her skin and the faint traces of perfume. A little like vanilla, which had him wishing he could taste her skin as well. She shivered at his nearness, but didn’t draw away. As impossible as anything between them still was, he couldn’t help being relieved she still felt the connection. If nothing else, he couldn’t leave her thinking he didn’t find her absolutely beautiful.

  Chris wadded a straw wrapper into a ball and threw it at his head. It bounced off his cheekbone, making him squint. “How many times have I forced you on a horse?”

  “I think the first time was once too many.”

  Eliza ignored them, speaking to Darla. “Did you notice the gun range across the highway when you went to Cascata?” At Darla’s shake of her head, Eliza beamed with delight. “Well, they’ve really expanded it since I lived here before. Now there’s a clubhouse where you can get dinner and blow things up.”

  Darla cocked a skeptical brow and shot Jackson a look. He shrugged, not knowing anything about it. “Is that a joke?”

  “No, it’s absolutely true.” Chris accepted the bill from the server and pulled
out his wallet. “They actually advertise it as ‘blow shit up’ on their website.”

  Jackson offered a few bills to Chris. “Will that cover Darla and me?”

  “Yeah, that looks about right.”

  “I can pay for my own food,” Darla protested.

  Jackson shook his head, remembering the low pay of his years as a resident far too well. She could probably afford a burger and fries, but why couldn’t she just let him take care of it? “Don’t worry about it. It’s too much of a pain in the ass to have everybody fighting over the bill.”

  She looked a little uncertain, as if she didn’t trust the gesture. “Thank you. Anyway. That shooting range sounds like something out of a bad comedy.”

  Jackson chuckled at her skepticism. “I’ve never heard of that one, but there’s a place just over the state border in Arizona that’s a greasy spoon slash shooting range. Some kid accidentally shot one of the instructors, and he was flown to UMC for care.”

  Eliza nudged Chris to slide out of their side of the booth. “Yeah, so you can fire an AR-15 while ordering a milkshake, but you can’t smoke while you’re drinking it.”

  Darla shot Jackson an exasperated look. “I’m never going to understand Las Vegas.”

  Chris led the way out of the restaurant and back into the casino proper. “What’s there to understand? It’s the most normal place on Earth.”

  Darla’s carefree laugh in response reminded him of how she’d laughed after the gala, before reality intruded again. “You’ve never lived outside of Nevada, have you?”

  Eliza leaned in against Chris’s side and gave his arm a squeeze. “Someday we’ll build the cabin of our dreams in Yosemite.”

  “What, you mean inside the park?”

  Jackson had to grin and moved a little closer to Darla, slowing his gate to match hers. “They’ve got dreams of setting up a ranch. It’ll probably involve moving, but it won’t be to Yosemite.”

  Chris scoffed. “Says you. If you’re gonna dream, dream big.”

  Darla stared at Chris a moment, then turned her disbelieving eyes on Jackson. “They are joking, right?”