by Lacey Black
Avery has been on me - again - about dating. I date. Okay, fine. I’ve dated. Not so much lately, especially since Carmen started here at the hospital and changed our entire scheduling format around for both the emergency and ambulance departments. Never mind that it might actually be a better system, which gives us the same amount of hours with more time off between days worked. I will never admit it out loud nor will I ever acknowledge it to her face.
Avery tried setting me up about two months ago with her part-timer, Sandra. Nice girl, really. She’s definitely cute with her dirty blond hair and blue eyes, but there just wasn’t that spark. That flare. That moment where you can’t wait another moment longer to taste her lips because the thought of waiting another second slowly kills you inside. At least not to the extent that Avery always talked about. We went to the movies and dinner a few times, but after a few dates, we both decided that friendship was all we’d ever have.
That hasn’t deterred my sister from name-dropping a few of the single ladies around town every time she sees me. Why she thinks I need a woman in my life is beyond me. I am content and happy being single. A few dates every now and again to keep me sane, get me out of the house, and keep the pipes from getting rusty - and I’m good. Work. That’s what I do. Twenty-four seven. My work is my life. I live, breathe, and thrive on the excitement of my job. It’s who I am.
As I lean against the wall across from Carmen’s office while she threatens whoever she’s speaking to on the phone within an inch of their life, I can’t help but acknowledge the stress of the job. EMTs and paramedics have been dropping like flies lately - mostly because of Carmen’s iron fist - and I’ve been left to pick up the slack. I’ve worked more overtime already these past two months than I did in total last year. Usually, I wouldn’t mind. But right now, I’m thinking that my weekend off will be a welcome reprieve.
Maybe I should call up one of the many names Avery has saved for me. Maybe I should enjoy female companionship over dinner. Maybe I should have a few drinks and flirt a little while shooting pool. Maybe I need to get laid.
The fact that I actually have to stop and think - hard - of the last woman I slept with is a little alarming. Unsettling. Perhaps I should head up to Jack’s Pub soon and see about taking care of that problem. Though that thought doesn’t sound too appetizing, either. I’ve never been a huge fan of casual sex. I’m more like Travis in that regard as opposed to my older two brothers. They were the Kings of Casual Sex. And kings, they are no more. They were dethroned by two bewitching Queens named Erin and Lia.
Speaking of bewitching - or witching, as may be the case right now - I hear Carmen’s terse voice rise to an octave that only dogs can hear, moments before the phone slams down on the base. I’ll be surprised if maintenance isn’t bringing her up a brand new phone later today.
An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach. I feel like the piece of steak that the zookeeper chucks into the lion’s den. I’m not nervous or scared of being called into the boss’s office. I’m more worried that, eventually, I’m not going to be able to hold back my hostility towards this woman. I fear I’m not going to be able to bite my tongue and just let the words fly. Words that I won’t be able to take back. Words that will probably cost me my job.
I’m just settling in for a self-help, blood pressure calming pep talk when I hear the hard clickety clank of her heels on the tile floor. I stand up as straight as possible as if someone shoved a rod up my ass, shoulders square, and hands firmly held behind my back. I plaster on my best hard as steel, cool as ice demeanor and wait for Carmen to open her office door.
When she finally swings her door open, she doesn’t notice me right away. Her dark eyes are cast downward, and she has a sad, distant look on her face, which leaves her vulnerable and exposed. She looks almost human.
I don’t say anything. I don’t move. Hell, I don’t even breathe. I’m taken aback by the sheer beauty of this woman. The delicate lines of her face. The softness in her brown eyes. The breathtaking way she lets her hard shell soften just a little when she thinks no one is watching. The way my traitorous body responds to her presence.
Carmen looks up at that moment and notices me for the first time. The hurt is evident in her eyes for only a few nanoseconds before her bitch exterior is locked back into place like the slamming of the prison cell door. She stands up straight and the softness in her face evaporates into thin air. Cruella is back and she’s gunning for me.
How did I get so lucky?
Chapter Two
Carmen
No one can rattle my chain like my ex-husband, Nick. At thirty-five, he spent his entire adult life putting his work and career first. Of course, he’s not the first man to choose his profession over his family and he certainly won’t be the last. Nick was ambitious from the beginning. Hell, it was one of the first things that attracted me to the pre-law college student fourteen years ago.
I was an eighteen-year-old college freshman at the University of Missouri, and I was instantly taken aback by the powerful, driven junior. Nick had his sights set high even then. His ultimate goal was to be a partner by the time he was thirty-two. Family wasn’t exactly in his immediate future, but one night changed all of that.
Now isn’t the time for a stroll down the bumps, curves, and detours of my past with Nick. I stand up, smooth my still-shaking hands down my black, crisp linen dress pants and head towards the door. I had closed it as soon as Nick called my direct office line. I knew what was coming on the other end of the line and didn’t want it broadcast to the rest of my colleagues. I’ve taken great strides at keeping my personal life just that. Personal.
I place my clammy palm on the doorknob and give it a gentle twist. Thoughts of what I’m going to say when I get home tonight flood my forethoughts. I loathe nights like this. Nights where I have to make excuses and promise that “next time” it’ll be different, even though I know deep down that next time will have the exact same result.
It takes me several moments before I finally sense the presence and snap out of my self-imposed pity party. When I look up, my eyes slam into those of William Stevens. I could stare at this man all day; lost in the cool depth of his crystal blue eyes, as calming and bright as the ocean. Not to mention that the rest of him is pretty freaking spectacular. A strong jaw and high cheekbones. Solidly built on his lean six-foot frame. And a firm ass that fills out those standard navy blue work pants to perfection and makes my hands twitch. My mind instantly goes places it has no business going. He’s my employee. Plain and simple. Nothing more. Nothing less.
But, the thought of more holds so much appeal…
I snap out of my thoughts that were quickly spiraling towards the gutter and throw on my standard all-business demeanor. I’m not here to be anyone’s friend. I’m here to do a job, and I plan to do that job to the best of my ability.
“Come in, William,” I finally say, stepping back and pulling the door further open.
“You wanted to see me?” Will says, the deep sexy timbre of his voice washes over me like a caress sending waves of heat to the apex of my thighs.
“Yes, I did,” I start as I close the door and step around to sit behind my desk. Will follows suit and sits in the first of two chairs across from my desk. “I’m going to be frank. I need you to work on Sunday,” I say as I place my hands on the top of my immaculate desk.
Will tenses, his jaw tightening. “Can’t. Have plans,” he replies without taking his eyes off of mine.
“That wasn’t a question,” I reply. “I need you Sunday. Jackie was involved in a car accident this morning and will need to be off for a week, minimum. I need you to pick up her Sunday shift, William, and possibly next Monday night,” I say. I know that Will knows about Jackie’s accident. He was in the rig that brought her in this morning. She wasn’t injured badly, but has a weight restriction due to a strained abdominal muscle. It’s a painful strain and will heal slowly over the next week or so. She’ll be tender and have limited mobility, and in
her line of work, that just won’t do.
Will sighs from his position in front of me. “I have dinner plans with my family Sunday night,” he responds with the shake of his head. His blond hair is kept short in that no maintenance sort of way. His handsome, silver wire-rimmed glasses sit perched on his nose giving him that boyish, studious look.
“What time is your dinner?” I ask. I try to be as accommodating as possible, but won’t allow an employee to walk all over me.
“We eat at six,” he replies as that strong jaw ticks again. My mouth suddenly dries with the desire to touch that tick…with my tongue.
“I will have whomever is coming on after you start at five-thirty. Will that give you enough time to get to your dinner?” I ask, uncrossing and crossing my legs again.
“Yes,” he replies after a short pause, his eyes softening, yet full of shock. It’s like he can’t believe I am willing to bend a little to accommodate his existing plans.
“I appreciate you stepping up and helping us all out, William. Even though you don’t have as much experience as some of the others, they seem to respect you and look to you as a leader,” I say as those crystal blue eyes remain locked on mine.
Will seems to stumble over the right words to respond with. He opens his mouth twice to reply, but nothing comes out. Eventually, he just shakes his head up and down in a hard, jerky manner.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed your strong work ethic, William. You are a natural leader and it shows daily in your work. Frankly, I don’t care what you think of me, nor do I care what everyone else thinks of me, but I do know that we all have to work together,” I say.
“Well, if I may speak bluntly for a moment? If you want us to all work together and get along, maybe you could trying being a little nicer to those you work with,” Will says defiantly.
I stare at him for several terse seconds before responding. No one has ever really spoken like that to me since my arrival at Rivers Edge Health Center. “I see your point, William, but I’m not here to be anyone’s friend. I am the boss and will run a tight, effective ship,” I say with that curtness that comes oh so naturally to me now. “However,” I say, cutting off whatever he was about to say, “I do see validation in your point. I won’t change the way I direct you all, but I will try to take prior commitments and engagements into consideration.” I place my hands on my lap and lean back in my swivel office chair.
Will stares at me for several beats before responding, “I think everyone would appreciate that, Carmen.”
Will stands up, long, strong legs flexing within the confines of his uniform. My mouth goes dry, again, and my gaze is instantly drawn to the fit of those pants. Holy hell does his body fit those pants.
“I appreciate you pulling the extra shift,” I respond, directing my eyes back up to his face. His blue eyes are all knowing and all consuming. They sparkle with life and a little mischief.
I wonder if he can read my thoughts.
“Thank you for stopping by my office, William,” I say as I stand and walk towards the closed door.
When I reach the door, I hesitate. Will is standing next to me - so very close. I can smell the musky scent of his cologne and the spiciness of his soap mixed with coolness and fresh air. It’s a heady combination that makes me dizzy with lust. It’s practically a foreign sensation that I haven’t had since God knows when.
I reach forward for the knob at the exact same time as Will. I grip the doorknob first and feel an electrical shock course through my already tightly wound body when his large, warm hand encompasses mine. I grip the knob tighter just to keep myself from leaning forward and running my nose up the column of his neck to inhale his deliciousness. I watch as he swallows hard, the muscles in his neck working overtime as he sucks in a big gulp of air. Those stunning blue eyes he’s hiding behind his glasses are wide with shock, yet hold just a little bit of something else. Hunger?
We stand exactly like that for who knows how long. I don’t move - I can’t move - and neither does he. I’m pulled further into the hypnotizing depths of his eyes until a faint, distant ringing starts to pull me back. It only takes me a few moments to realize that the ringing is my phone. The one sitting five feet away from me on my desk.
I jump back, pulling my hand out of the grip of Will’s much larger hand. Cold air quickly replaces the warmth where Will’s presence once was. I take several steps backwards until I bump into my desk. Will looks as if he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.
I shake my head in an attempt to strip away the cobwebs that are clouding my judgment. Because my judgment is definitely obstructed right now. Will is off limits. He is my employee.
“Thank you for your time,” I mumble as I snatch up the receiver on my phone. I pay no attention to the voice on the other end. I hear the door open and close quickly as Will leaves my office.
I fall down into my chair, close my eyes, and hang my head. “Yes, sir. I’ll be right there,” I tell Gerald Peterman, administrator of Rivers Edge Health Center. I quickly hang up the phone, rise and smooth down my pants one more time. As I head towards the door, I can still smell Will’s scent within the white walls of my office.
Enough of that, I chastise myself as I head to the corner office down the hall.
I have no time to think about Will.
If only my mind would actually listen.
*****
It’s shortly after five when I finally make my way down the now familiar street that I’ve lived on for the past nine months. Pleasant Street. Isn’t that ironic? Because there is definitely nothing pleasant about a divorce. There was definitely nothing pleasant about having to uproot our lives and relocate to Rivers Edge. There is definitely nothing pleasant about sleeping alone in the king sized bed that used to belong to Nick and me, jointly.
I pull my new Chevy Impala into my driveway, headlights illuminating the basketball hoop that hasn’t been used since the weather turned cold. Even though it’s only after five, the evening is already dark. One of the many joys of time change in the Midwest. The tiny detached garage in front of me is filled with the furniture that didn’t fit into our tiny little house. I went from a three thousand square foot Tudor home in a gated community in St. Charles, to not even a thousand square foot house in a quiet subdivision thirty minutes away.
When I made the decision to leave St. Charles, I didn’t have a lot of time to find a place to live. The job was actually the easiest part of relocating. I was the Assistant Director of Medical Transportation at a hospital in St. Charles. My job was to help oversee the entire ambulance department at one of the largest hospitals. Finding out of the available position at Rivers Edge Health Center was a gift straight from the heavens. It happened at the perfect time in my life. I was in desperate need of a slower pace and still reeling from the aftermath of the divorce, amongst so many other things.
I step up the front steps and use my key to let myself in the front door. Warmth envelops me as I step inside the comfortable living room. I make quick work of removing my coat and scarf, depositing them in the front closet where they go.
“Hey, Mom,” I hear from the kitchen.
“Hey,” I reply as I step inside the room. Our sixteen-year-old neighbor, Abby, is sitting at the kitchen table with my twelve-year-old son, Zachary.
“Getting your homework done?” I ask as I lean down and kiss the top of his head.
“Yeah, I’m working on math now,” he mumbles and turns his attention back on his most dreaded subject.
Abby comes over after school and sits with Zach until I get home. Technically, at twelve, he’s probably old enough to stay home by himself for such a short period of time, but with everything that happened at his last school, I’m not taking the chance of leaving him alone yet. Even if it has been nine months without incident.
Abby grabs her book bag from the floor and starts to shovel her books and papers inside. “I can’t stay tonight, Ms. Brady. My mom is bowling so dinner is already waiting,” she
says as she stands up and walks into the living room to retrieve her coat.
“See you tomorrow, Abby,” I say as the teenager heads out the front door.
“Bye,” she hollers over her shoulder before stepping out into the brisk, evening air.
“So, I was thinking that we could get pizza on Thursday night since Dad promised that we’d get cheeseburgers and fries on Friday night,” Zach exclaims from the kitchen table.
I exhale deeply before I head back into the kitchen, dread gripping my chest so tightly I can hardly breathe. I hate doing this to him. I hate that his father does this to him. Crushes him continually with empty promises and leaves me to pick up the broken pieces.
“Why don’t we order a pizza tonight?” I offer as I step back inside the kitchen and head towards the sink. Distracting myself won’t erase the hurt I’m about to bestow upon him. I’m just hoping that his favorite deep-dish mushroom pizza will soften the blow just a bit.
“What’s wrong?” Zach asks, his eyes filled with concern.
“Why do you think something is wrong?” I answer his question with a question.
“We never get pizza on Monday nights,” he mumbles and looks back down at his homework. “Unless you have bad news,” he adds as he goes about his math worksheet.
“Let me order the pizza, and then we’ll talk, okay?” I ask, heading over to grab the cordless phone off the base. Zach offers a grunt for a response and gets back to the papers in front of him.
Once the pizza is ordered, I sit down at the tiny two-person table. “So, your dad called today,” I start, meeting sad, brown eyes. I watch as he swallows his emotions and dredges up his best brave face.