Better Than Me (A Remington Medical Contemporary Romance)

by Kimberly Kincaid

  “We’re roommates. Temporarily,” Natalie added. “Just friends.”

  Rachel tilted her head. “Oh. He’s very, ah. Good-looking.”

  Natalie’s libido gave up a game-day cheer in agreement. “He is.”

  “He looks like a Disney prince,” Annabelle called out from her bed.

  “Annabelle,” Rachel warned, her cheeks turning pink. “Eavesdropping on adults is rude.”

  “Sorry. But you don’t whisper very quietly.”

  Natalie laughed, because it was that or let her embarrassment burn a giant ring of fire in the floor. Dropping her voice to a true murmur, she said, “Anyway, I just want to check in to see how you’re doing.”

  “Me? I’m fine. Well, I will be once this infection is under control,” Rachel whispered back. “It’s just…difficult to be the only parent.”

  “I’m sure it is,” Natalie said, although it took effort to keep the emotion from her voice. “You shouldn’t have to shoulder all of this alone. We have some great staff members who are specifically trained to help the families of our pediatric cancer patients cope with the stress.”

  “Like therapists?” Rachel asked, her brows drawn in question, and Natalie nodded.

  “Yes, but you don’t have to think of it as anything so formal. It can be extremely beneficial to talk to someone who’s familiar with what you’re going through, just to bounce your thoughts off of them in case they can help, or even if you just want someone to listen.”

  “Sort of like how you did with Dr. Sheridan tonight? Another set of eyes on the case?”

  Natalie’s pulse rattled in surprise, then again in realization. “Yes. Exactly like that, actually.”

  Looking through the open doorway and into the exam room, Rachel exhaled and gave up a small nod. “I’d really like someone like that.”

  “I can have someone come to Annabelle’s room tomorrow, and we’ll have a nurse keep an eye on her for as long as you need during your appointment. If you think it would help her, we can have someone chat with Annabelle, too.”

  “Oh, could we?” Rachel asked, and Natalie didn’t hesitate.

  “Of course. I want you both in tip-top shape so we can kick this cancer’s butt.” Stopping for a breath, she considered her next words very carefully. But if the right trial came along, Rachel needed to be prepared. Natalie didn’t want to offer false hope, but some hope was always a good thing. “I’d also like to see what we can do about getting Annabelle into a clinical trial, maybe at UNC or Collins General.”

  Rachel’s brows flew upward. “But Collins is in Alabama.”

  “It is,” Natalie agreed. “It’s also a state-of-the-art cancer center, where they have pediatric oncologists who are very well-equipped to tackle Annabelle’s specific type of cancer.”

  “They’re also not you and Dr. Hoover.”

  Of course, Rachel didn’t want to take Annabelle out of her comfort zone. Still, Natalie said, “No, but these trials are run by incredible doctors. They can provide huge breakthroughs for some patients. I’ve talked to Dr. Hoover about it, and we both think it’s worth looking into.”

  “Oh.” Rachel nodded slowly. “Well, I’d hate to move Annabelle to a strange city and a new hospital, and to leave you, especially, but if you think it’s a good idea, then yes. Let’s look.”

  Relief spilled through Natalie’s chest. There was an answer out there. She just had to find it. “We can talk more about it in the morning, after you’ve had some sleep. But for now, I’ll go see about getting a bed ready in the peds wing. It’s been a long night.”

  As Natalie replayed Rachel’s words about Jonah, then all the events of the last couple of hours in her head, she felt the fatigue that usually followed a good, hard shot of adrenaline settle in, realizing only then exactly how big of an understatement that was.

  10

  Jonah spent his Wednesday afternoon up to his wrists in a patient’s chest cavity. Since it had followed a morning spent removing not one, but three bullets from a robbery victim’s extremities, then repairing the extensive damage each one had left in its wake, to say that he was spent was definitely a euphemism.

  After three straight days of wall-to-wall surgeries, none of them uncomplicated, plus just as many shifts covering the ED in the tiny pockets of time in between, Jonah was balls-out wrecked.

  Double-checking the post-op update Dr. Young had put in their last patient’s chart to make sure the intern had covered all of her bases, Jonah headed to the attendings’ lounge to finally lose the scrubs that had felt like a second skin this week. He’d even outlasted Charlie and Tess today, both of whom were serious contenders for the Workaholic of the Year award, as well as Natalie, who had finally been able to discharge a fever-free and stir-crazy Annabelle early yesterday morning. She’d erred on the side of caution since Annabelle’s immune system was so compromised from the chemo, but in the end, the heavy cocktail of antibiotics Natalie had ordered had done the trick to knock out Annabelle’s infection.

  Jonah was looking forward to getting all the details about her recovery and release from the hospital, actually. He wasn’t really used to being around kids, either as their physician or otherwise, but he had to admit it. Annabelle was pretty cute. Watching Natalie interact with the girl and her mother? Was pretty damned endearing, not to mention impressive as hell.

  All that, and she’s the best kisser you know, whispered an unbidden, unruly voice he’d been trying—unsuccessfully, thanks—to snuff out for the last five days. Things had returned to business as usual between him and Natalie, with neither one of them mentioning the kiss they’d shared again. Yet despite the fact that he damn well knew he shouldn’t, Jonah hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it any time his mind wasn’t immediately and fully occupied. The kiss was imprinted in his memory as if it had just happened, the smell of Natalie’s skin right there in his nose, his mouth tingling from the press of her lips, parting over his in a flawless give and take. No matter how much Jonah tried to remind himself that kissing her had been a reckless impulse he’d known he’d had no business giving in to, and that he needed to just forget about this crazy attraction to Natalie, the more he ended up wanting her.

  Problematic, really, since they were sharing space at home and at work.

  Shaking his head and shouldering his way into the grey Henley he’d stashed in his locker at o-dark-thirty this morning, he stamped out the thought, once and for all. Yes, he and Natalie had kissed, and fuck yes, it had been hotter than the inside of the sun. But they’d agreed to forget it. She wanted all sorts of things Jonah could never give her, and what’s more, she deserved them.

  No matter how surly his inner voice was about not kissing her again.

  Jonah finished up with his change-and-get-out-of-here routine, realizing that he hadn’t tended to his stomach since lunch, and even that had been a grab and go. He had just enough time to pick up some takeout from his favorite Thai place, which was—bonus—on his way home. It would give Natalie a breather from having to cook, besides. Tapping off a quick text to tell her he had dinner taken care of, Jonah made his way from Point A to B to C, finally crossing the threshold of his apartment about twenty-five minutes later.

  “Hey,” he said to Natalie, who had changed into an infuriatingly cute pair of sweatpants and—God help him and his traitorous dick—tied her hair into two loose braids to frame her pixie face.

  “Hey!” she said, looking up from the half-dozen medical journals, plus her laptop, that she’d slathered over his coffee table. “Oh, my God, that smells divine.”

  “You’re not the only one who can whip up dinner around here.” Jonah moved into the kitchen, placing the bag full of takeout on the counter by the sink and starting to unload the cartons. Natalie wasn’t wrong. Everything smelled freaking delicious.

  Her eyes lit at the sight of a clear plastic container full of soup. “Ohhhh, Tom Kha Kai is my favorite.”

  “I remember.” Jonah preferred Tom Yom Goong, personally, the
spicier, the better, but he knew Natalie loved the milder, chicken in coconut soup. “It’s all yours, plus, I got shrimp lettuce wraps, pad Thai, and green curry. Oh, and mango sticky rice,” he added, because really, it was a given.

  “Did you invite a hockey team over or something? Maybe Finn and some of his buddies from the Rogues?” Natalie asked over a laugh. “These portions are huge. There’s no way you and I can eat all of this.”

  Jonah snorted, taking the last of the plastic containers from the bag. “Clearly, you underestimate me. Plus, whatever we don’t eat today, we can have as leftovers tomorrow. Then you’ll get a whole two days off from kitchen duty.”

  The beginnings of a frown built between her brows. “But I promised you I’d cook.”

  “And I promised you we’d get Thai food over the weekend, remember? I know Annabelle’s case kept you pretty busy, so we didn’t get a chance to do it, but consider this my rain check.”

  “Hmm.” She reached into the utensil drawer for spoons and forks, keeping one spoon in reserve as she placed the rest on the counter, then picked up the container of soup. “You’re lucky I’m hungry enough to give in.”

  “You’re tough as hell, Kendrick. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

  Natalie shrugged, but he could see the smile brewing beneath the non-committal expression she’d worked up. “Hey, a deal is a deal. I’m just trying to be a woman of my word.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Jonah teased. Christ, she was probably one of the most honest people on the planet, including nuns. “So, what are you working on?”

  She followed his gaze through the open-concept kitchen to the pile of journals she’d been perusing when he’d walked in the door. “Ah. More alternative therapies and possible options for Annabelle. I know Hoover’s a great doctor, and the aggressive chemo regimen she prescribed is the best way to treat Annabelle’s cancer, but…”

  “As Annabelle’s surgeon, you want to do all that you can to send that cancer into remission,” Jonah finished, an odd tightness blooming somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. Grabbing a fork and the container of curry, he said, “Well, come on. We’ll make better headway if we work on it together.”

  Natalie blinked. “But you just spent all day working. Parker even said you and Young had to pull bullets out of someone. Plural.”

  “I did, but you worked all day, too. Something about a mishap at an indoor skate park?”

  “Yeah.” She grimaced. “A platform to one of those skateboard ramps collapsed. It was only five feet above the ground, but there were eight kids on it at the time.”

  Well, that probably explained the collapse. “Mallory said you two were doing films and scans for hours. I bet you’re exhausted.”

  “Exhausted goes with the job, remember?” Natalie teased, sock-footing her way back to the coffee table, soup in hand. “But Annabelle is my patient, no matter how tired I get.”

  Jonah pulled out a charismatic smile to try and win her over. “Ah, but after Friday night, she’s my patient, too.”

  “You’re pushing it, Sheridan.”

  “Yeah, but you’re going to let me. Come on.”

  “Fine.” Natalie laughed. Settling in on the couch, she removed the lid from the container of soup. “In truth, I really could use the help.”

  She paused for a bite of soup, then another. A blissful moan crossed her lips, causing Jonah’s brain to let out an oh shit and his cock to wake up with an oh yesssss. Her eyes drifted closed, her lips turning upward into a wide-open smile, and fuck, he was either going to spontaneously combust or kiss her until he ran out of air.

  “So, um, Annabelle,” Jonah said, his voice rough in his ears. Focus on the medicine. Facts. Figures. Anything other than Natalie’s sugar-and-sin mouth. “She responded pretty well to the treatment protocol for that infection. Does Hoover think the setback will impact her chemo schedule?”

  Natalie opened her eyes, looking at the research in front of her. “We’ll have to re-check her white cell counts and keep our eye on things, but I hope not.” Pausing, she tilted her head, one corner of her mouth lifting. “Rachel mentioned that you checked in on them Monday morning.”

  “Yeah, I had a few seconds. Figured I’d say hi in between surgeries.” He checked in on lots of patients whose cases he’d been called to consult. Usually, he just touched base with the primary physician, but he’d already been on the third floor on Monday, taking out someone’s gallbladder on the fly. Peds had only been a handful of steps away.

  “Mmm.” Natalie swirled her spoon through her soup. “She said you brought Annabelle bubbles.”

  Well, shit. “Oh, yeah.” Jonah capped his no-big-deal tone with a shrug, busying himself with the container of curry. “I saw them at the drugstore when I stopped for a couple of things over the weekend. They were an easy grab.”

  Funny, Natalie’s wry smirk didn’t budge a millimeter. “Right. Because I’m sure they were right there next to the shaving cream.”

  “You’re just mad I beat you to it,” Jonah teased by way of distracting her, since the bubbles had been halfway across the store, not to mention the primary thing he’d gone in for. So he’d felt bad for the kid. Sue him.

  “Maybe a little,” Natalie said, surprising him with a wistful glance. “You were really good with her. I can’t believe I never thought of using lidocaine spray before placing an IV.”

  “To be fair, that’s not its primary use, which is probably why you didn’t think of it,” Jonah said between bites. “And the bubbles thing is pretty smart, too. Annabelle really seems to like them.”

  Natalie’s nod equated to a nonverbal I guess. “I didn’t get a chance to say this the other night, but thank you for going with me when Rachel called. Having you there really helped.”

  “Of course. Any time.”

  A burst of laughter flew past her lips, surprising Jonah into asking, “What’s so funny?”

  “You’d better be careful, or people might start to think there’s more to you than all that cocky, one-night-only charm.”

  His pulse tapped in warning, steady and insistent. “Who, me? Never.”

  “Deny it all you want,” Natalie said. “But I know the truth. There’s a good man lurking beneath all that dazzle.”

  “Why do you believe in me so much?”

  The question had popped right out of Jonah without thought or permission from his brain, but somehow, its brutal honesty didn’t bother him the way he’d expected upon realizing what he’d said.

  Not even when Natalie’s whiskey-colored eyes glinted as if he’d issued a challenge. “Why don’t you?”

  Jesus, there was some irony there. The charming smiles, the borderline arrogant pickup lines he could recite if he were halfway to a coma. The litany of one-night stands that had been his default setting ever since Vanessa had boarded that flight to Central America. They were all deceptions in their own right, carefully designed to keep everyone at arm’s length and to keep him from being in any sort of a committed relationship.

  Yet, somehow, Natalie clearly saw far enough past them to believe he was truly, deeply decent.

  “Because,” Jonah said. “I’m not ever going to be in a relationship. Most of the city thinks I left my ex at the altar. All of the city knows I’m not a long-haul guy. That doesn’t exactly make me quality material.”

  It was a reality he’d come to terms with years ago. He didn’t love it, no, but it beat being a sucker, that was for damn sure. True love, with all the hearts and flowers and commitment, just wasn’t built to last. Especially not for him.

  “Oh, bullshit.”

  Natalie said it so cheerfully that Jonah was certain he’d misunderstood. “Sorry?”

  Without breaking stride with her soup or her smile, she repeated, “Bullshit. Just because you don’t want a relationship doesn’t make you a degenerate by default, and anyway, what everyone thinks isn’t even close to what actually happened. It’s also no one’s business but yours and Vanessa’s.”

  Jon
ah processed her words. Tried to pick his jaw up off the floor. Didn’t even come close. “Have you forgotten that you’re happily-ever-after’s biggest cheerleader?”

  “For me,” she qualified. “But it’s clearly not what you want. Although, I have to admit,” she added after a second, “I still don’t understand exactly why not.”

  And there it was, that Natalie-like enthusiasm that seemed as unshakeable as the Rock of Gibraltar. God, he hated to bust her bubble.

  “You mean, other than the fact that my one and only attempt at love ended with my fiancée leaving the country instead of saying ‘I do’?” he asked, trying to paint the words with enough levity to flirt his way out of the thorny truth behind them.

  But Natalie was far too smart for that. “I get that what happened with Vanessa makes you hesitant. But she was one person. Tons of people move on from bad breakups to end up in happy relationships.”

  “And tons end up going from dead-end relationship to dead-end relationship for their entire lives,” Jonah pointed out matter-of-factly. “People leave their partners and spouses all the time. They start out crazy in love and swear they’ll never feel any other way. Then something happens to change one or both of their minds, and bam. Splitsville. And before you go blaming my feelings on what happened with Vanessa, let me assure you, my not-a-wedding nightmare is really just one of a billion reasons why I’m not a long-haul guy.”

  “A billion.” Natalie’s frown outlined her words. “Hyperbole much?”

  Eh, she might have him there. Still… “Melissa McGee.”

  “Who?”

  “Melissa McGee,” Jonah said, shifting on the couch cushions to look at Natalie more fully. “The prettiest girl in the seventh grade. Broke my heart after two dates.”

  Natalie bit her lip in sympathy, but it didn’t last. “Paul Sanchez.” At Jonah’s questioning look, she added, “He was my lab partner in biology class, freshman year of college. My first real kiss. Sweet guy, but ultimately, there wasn’t enough chemistry between us. No hearts broken.”