by S. E. Law
But Ridge doesn’t seem to care. Slowly, the doctor slides his hands up and down my legs, almost caressing them. I can’t feel his fingers, but I watch as my heart races. I’m aware of his every movement and my insides tingle and grow warm.
His hands move up to my knee, where I expect him to stop, but he doesn’t. Instead, the man continues to move north until he’s caressing my thighs. Then he’s touching my hips, and I feel his fingertips slide against my skin, warm and firm. He digs the heels of his hands into my sides, rubbing in deep, heavy circles. I lay back completely and lose myself in his touch. For the first time since the accident, I feel my full body relax. Hell, I might even be purring a bit.
His hands move again, and I can’t feel anything once more. But not for long. He comes up on the other leg, continuing his rigorous massage and my breath hitches a bit.
My eyes close on their own, imaging that I can feel every stroke of his hands. I hope he stays far away from my center, because my panties are getting wet and it’s embarrassing.
I force myself to behave. This is happening because I’ve been depressed lately, and I haven’t been properly touched by a man in ages. Jonah doesn’t count because he was a fumbling idiot. Now, I have a real man before me, and my reaction is perfectly understandable. Any attention by someone this masculine would make me feel desirable, and I’d love him to give me the rubdown of a lifetime.
Suddenly, Ridge’s voice interrupts.
“You okay, Summer?” he asks.
My eyes flip open.
“Um, yes, why?”
He chuckles.
“We’re just about out of time, that’s why.”
I peel my eyes open, catching sight of the clock. Have I really been in this room for an hour already? It feels like less than five minutes.
The doctor backs up, the corners of his lips twitching again like he can read my mind.
“I’ll see you again tomorrow,” he says. “Same time.”
I nod and fumble with my clothes, getting them back in place. It took everything the nurse had to get me out of bed this morning, but tomorrow will be different. Now, knowing what awaits, I can’t wait.
It’s just because you want to feel better, the voice inside my head says. But that’s a lie, and I know it because if I had a female PT, I wouldn’t be thinking these thoughts at all. In fact, I wouldn’t be blushing shyly, nor breathing hard like I’ve just run a marathon.
Instead, it’s all about the handsome doctor, and tomorrow can’t come fast enough.
11
Ridge
There’s a shortage of nurses in California. Hell, there may be a shortage of nurses everywhere, but I know there is specifically a shortage here in California, and I know this because nurses in my state earn a lot more money than the national average. And I know this because Candy has told me a hundred times tonight.
“Honestly, Ridge, you should’ve gone into nursing,” she says, waving around a wine glass like it’s vital to the story. “I just sit around most days. Sometimes I go check on patients but mostly, I sit at the desk and watch videos on YouTube. And I get a huge paycheck for it. You could’ve been living the dream.”
“I’m living my dream,” I say easily. “I like my job.”
She scoffs. “No one likes their job. They tolerate it until they can retire. That’s why it’s called a job.”
Candy takes a sip of her red wine and ends up draining the glass. She doesn’t set it back on the table, though.
“But nursing, Ridge! Getting paid a mountain to do nothing all day!”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. For a nurse, Candy sure does discredit a lot of what they do. I know for a fact that sitting around watching YouTube videos is not what most RNs do all day. Just because Candy gets rewarded for slacking off doesn’t mean they all do. Even that annoying nurse, Candace, who is always late picking up patients does more. That’s usually why she’s late; she’s checking up on her other patients or getting something set for a surgery or some other task. Honestly, if Candy actually did her job, maybe Candace wouldn’t have to pick up her slack.
There’s an old saying that everyone in med school hears: don’t piss off the nurses. Apparently, the same isn’t taught to the nurses themselves. Lord knows Candy has pissed off her fair share of hospital staff, which is probably why she gets stuck on weekend shifts all the time. Candy claims she picks up the shifts for the ‘epic overtime pay’ but I think they schedule her for it since she’s burned every bridge she has in the nursing staff.
Our waiter approaches.
“Can I get the lady another glass of wine?”
Candy practically throws her empty glass onto the table.
“No, it was disgusting,” she says haughtily. Huh. So disgusting that she drank the entire thing. “I’ll have a rum and coke,” she proclaims.
The waiter is looking a bit miffed, and I hope the rest of his tables are better. My heart goes out to the guy.
“I’m all set to order food,” I say. “Candy?”
She sighs. “Whatever. I’ll have a house salad. Dressing on the side, because I don’t want you to drench it.”
“Would you like any protein? Chicken, bacon, tofu?” the waiter asks.
Candy shoves her menu against his chest. “If I wanted protein, I would’ve ordered it.”
I shoot the poor kid an apologetic look. He’s barely eighteen, and has to suffer this woman’s bad attitude. She’s always a bitch to waitstaff, no matter how many times I tell her to be nice. I hope the kid spits in her salad and her dressing, for good measure.
Smirking at the thought, I hand over my own menu.
“I’ll take a cheeseburger with bacon, side of fries, and a side of onion rings. And I’ll get a beer, whatever you have on tap. Something light.”
“Yes, sir.”
He skitters off to get our order ready. Candy laughs.
“What an idiot. How did he get a job here?”
How did you get a job at the hospital? I want to ask, but I bite my tongue. That wouldn’t go over well, and I’d like the chance to eat my burger. If Candy throws it at me, I’ll have to leave.
“So how was your day?” I ask, knowing that’ll get the woman going. Sure enough, she takes a deep breath before launching into a story.
“I had this patient today,” she begins. “Absolute nightmare. The girl is paralyzed, can’t move a muscle, and she had the nerve to ask me to shave her legs for her. I mean, normally I offer, because I’m a nice person, but she just straight up asked me to do it without me offering first. Who does that?”
“That does seem rude of her,” I lie. Candy and I both know that a patient who can’t move herself is more than welcome to ask for a little help. Plus, nurses are supposed to offer their assistance, so it’s not a weird request. But Candy drones on.
“It was so rude, Ridge. I swear, this woman thinks I’m her personal maid or something. The other day she asked me to curl her hair. Do you know how much time it takes to curl hair?” I don’t, but Candy is quick to fill me in. “It can take a full hour if you have a lot of hair. And this bitch has tons!”
I nod, trying not to look bored.
“I’m sorry you had such a rough day.”
She doesn’t hear the sarcasm in my voice.
“It’s better now, babe. At least the pay is worth it. Like I said, you should go into nursing.”
“I really do like being a physical therapist,” I reply mildly. “It’s a great job.”
Not that she hears because every conversation is like this. Circular. No matter how often I change the subject, Candy always brings it back to whatever she wants to talk about. Today, she’s fixated on how much money she brings in as a nurse, while last time we went out, she couldn’t stop talking about how Sandra was promoted to head nurse when it should have been her. Thank god. If she’s lazy now, I can only imagine how much worse she would get with more responsibility.
The young waiter returns with our drinks. He sets them down withou
t making eye contact, and disappears quickly.
I take a long, slow sip of my beer. It’s cold and light, exactly what I need after a long day. Once again, I’m reminded that working PT has its perks. I’m not on call, so I can drink. I actually get my nights off, although spending it with someone like Candy seems beyond the point.
My date sucks on the straw in her rum and coke, but immediately spits the liquid over the table.
I jump back, barely dodging the spray.
“What the hell?”
“Waiter,” she screeches. He’s a few tables away, taking orders. He asks the nice family to wait so he can come tend to this harpy.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, practically trembling with fear.
Candy is seething. “Of course not, and you’re fully aware of what’s wrong. I asked for a rum and diet coke, but you gave me a rum and coke. How stupid can you be?”
“Ma’am, you asked for a rum and coke—” he begins.
“Don’t you dare lie to me! I’ll have your job. Just get me the right drink, and I won’t have to tell your boss about this.”
“Candy, stop,” I say. “Don’t bother getting her a new drink,” I say to the waiter. “We’re leaving. I am so sorry for the mess.”
“Sir, you don’t have to –”
Candy slams back her chair. “Leaving? Why would we be leaving? They screwed up, and they should make it right.”
“You ordered a rum and coke,” I say calmly. “I heard you loud and clear.”
She grits her teeth. “So you’re taking the side of some idiot waiter over your own girlfriend?”
“Nope. I’m taking the side of the waiter over my ex-girlfriend.”
“Ex?” Candy yells. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m the best thing that has ever happened to you, Ridge Maddox, and you’re breaking up with me? You’re stupider than I thought. I make three times as much as you!”
Her harping on and on about money is really getting on my nerves.
“I think you should go, Candy. You’re causing a scene.”
She swipes her drink glass onto the floor, where it shatters, sending the rum and coke across the restaurant floor.
“I wouldn’t be causing a scene if you weren’t being an idiot. How dare you try to break up with me?”
“I’m not trying to break up with you. I am succeeding at breaking up with you. Take a hike, Cands. It’s over.”
Breaking up is a relief, to be frank. Candy and I were never good together. We started dating because she was hot and worked at the hospital, so we had something in common right off the bat. Over the last few weeks though, her true colors have come out. She became a nurse for the money. She constantly badmouths her patients and has destroyed all her relationships with coworkers. She has no friends, and is rude to me too.
Yeah, she’s got to go.
“Candy, I think you should leave,” I say again.
She gapes at me. I’m still sitting at the table, and now everyone at the restaurant is shooting glances our way. “If you want me to leave, you’ll have to make me!” she screeches.
A scrawny man in a full suit appears behind her. “Ma’am, I have to ask you to leave. Security, please escort this woman off the premises.”
A tall, dark skinned woman in a uniform smiles, showing two glinting gold teeth.
“I’d be happy to, Mr. Winkler.”
Probably with more force than necessary, the security guard grabs Candy’s arm and drags her towards the front door. As she’s pulled away, the entire restaurant bursts into applause.
Oh man, it was that bad, huh? I turn to the waiter with a wry smile.
“Sorry about that, kid. You can cancel her salad, but I’d still like my food, if you wouldn’t mind?” I turn to the suited man, who is clearly the manager of this burger restaurant. “If that’s okay with you.”
Mr. Winkler smiles.
“I’d be offended if you left, Sir. You handled that crazy woman like a champ.”
I shrug and relax for the first time in an hour.
“Yeah, she was a little off her rocker, wasn’t she?”
The manager grins.
“More than a little, a lot,” he says emphatically. “I’ll bring out another beer for you.”
Mine was spilled in the chaos, but luckily it didn’t land on my lap. But I do feel bad that the floor is drenched with our drinks and shoot an apologetic smile to another man who comes to mop up the mess.
After all that excitement, I let my mind wander while I eat my dinner. I’ve been thinking about dumping Candy for a while, but I know why I finally did it today. It wasn’t just Candy’s bad attitude, nor the fact that she’s rude to absolutely everyone. It was also that girl from PT.
The one with the shy eyes and bangin’ bod. Damn, she was hot. Even with her face bruised and her hair messy, she’s the sexiest patient I’ve ever had. I never get turned on during medical massages. But with her? I’m glad I was wearing my lab coat, because a hard on is impossible to hide in scrubs.
Summer. According to her chart, that’s not her real name, but it’s what everyone calls her. Even though I could tell she was depressed, the name still fits her. There’s a fire inside of that woman that’s dying to ignite once more, and you know what? With Candy gone, I’m going to be the one to set her free.
I finish my burger, my thoughts on Summer’s sexy thighs. They were generous and soft, with dimples at the knees. I chug my beer to cool myself off, but it doesn’t work. I’m drawn to this woman and her shapely curves, and can’t wait to see her again. The thing is, I’m not supposed to be thinking this way. I’m not supposed to be doing anything about it either. But despite the danger to my mental health, not to mention my career, my body is saying yes on all levels.
12
Summer
I’m glad I have a private hospital room because this way, I can let my mind wander.
After all, I had another physical therapy session today. I didn’t get a massage, but Ridge’s hands were all over me as he showed me some new exercises meant to tone my lower and upper halves. It wasn’t sexual, unfortunately, but it was still so hot.
In my head, he’s here with me now. His hands caress my stomach before moving up to cup my full breasts. His fingers tease and brush against my stiff nipples before slipping down lower and lower until he reaches the vee I so desperately want him to touch.
My breath hitches. I’m no longer attached to a heart monitor, so at least I don’t have to worry about setting off alarms. The door’s firmly shut and there should be no visitors for another hour at least.
In my daydream, Ridge dips one finger in, and then another… I squirm on the bed as much as I can with two non-working legs. I have to fight the urge to touch myself. Thinking about it is one thing, but acting on it is another. I’d be mortified if a nurse burst in ahead of schedule and caught me pleasuring myself in my hospital bed. Oh my god, I’d die of embarrassment.
I don’t need to touch, though, because he’s magnificent in my mind alone. My insides tighten with every memory of Ridge’s hands on my thick thighs and then sliding over my waist once more. But then Dream Ridge changes course in my mind. Instead of just using his hands, he uses his lips, too. He climbs up onto the bed with me, straddling my body while smiling that devilish grin. You don’t have to move, imaginary Ridge says. I’ll take care of everything, sweetheart.
A moan slips from my lips, but I muffle it quickly because any strange sounds might send nurses in to check on me. The last thing I need is to be kicked out for lewd behavior. Would the hospital do that? I picture Ridge’s sexy smile as he moves my hospital smock aside for easy access to ...
A knock on the door frame brings my train of thought to a screeching halt. My eyes scrunch closed, praying for the person at the door to go away, but then a thought intrudes: what if that’s Ridge at the door?
My eyes snap open. Could the sexy doctor have come to pay me a house - er, hospital room - call? It’s possible, isn’t it?
Sitting up straight, I pat my hair down and put a smile on my face.
“Come!” I say in what I hope is a sweet tone. But instead of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome, instead it’s Mr. Medium-Height with Floppy Brown Bangs.
“Hi, Summer,” Jonah says with a weak smile. “How are you?”
I almost laugh, but I catch myself. He looks terrible. His hair messier than I’ve ever seen it, and dark bags hang beneath his eyes. Looking at the pair of us, one might think Jonah was in the car with me when I crashed.
“I’ve been better,” I answer truthfully. Jonah keeps his distance, standing just inside the doorway, a good six feet from my bed. “How are you?” I ask.
He shuffles his feet.
“Not great. I haven’t been able to sleep or eat. This has been really hard on me, Summer. Really, really hard.”
He takes a couple steps closer, bringing out a limp bouquet from behind his back. It looks like an afterthought, probably something he picked up from the hospital gift shop.
“I got these for you,” he says, offering them.
“Thanks, they’re beautiful,” I lie. “You can set them on the table. I’ll have a nurse bring me a vase for them.”
Jonah tosses the bouquet onto a table, next to the wilting roses from my parents and the evergreen cactus that Dee, Annabel, and Liz brought to spruce up my room.
“Thanks for coming by,” I say in an even tone. “It’s only been a week and a half.”
Jonah looks everywhere but my face, his eyes finally settling on the stock painting above my bed.
“You know how I feel about hospitals, Summer. They give me the creeps with all these weird machines and such.”
I breathe out a sigh. I do know what he’s talking about. Jonah’s father was in and out of hospitals for most of his son’s life. He was diagnosed with cancer when Jonah was six, and went into remission multiple times only to have the Big C return multiple times as well. Finally, after years of struggle, Jonah’s dad died when Jonah was sixteen, which was likely a blessing given the pain and suffering enacted on the entire family.