Skinny Pants

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  Okay. “I won’t listen” as in “I ignore all my patients’ stupid whining,” or “Feel free to whine if it makes you feel better because that’s all that matters”? One was unfeeling and the other was kind of nice.

  I can’t get a read on this guy.

  She reached for his extended hand, and they shook. Damn!—his grip was strong as hell, but his hands were soft and ready for the most delicate of tasks. She didn’t want to let go.

  Still holding her hand, he flashed a quick smile that flipped a switch deep in her chest. Flutters exploded. Her heartbeat accelerated.

  “Nice to meet you, Nurse Franklin.”

  “Sa-same here. See you around?”

  He dipped his head of thick, short brown hair, which was a little messy like he’d just towel dried it after a workout and left it that way.

  Sexy.

  “I look forward to it.” He released his iron grip, and she immediately felt its absence.

  “Thanks, Dr. Reed.” She followed him out and shamefully drooled at the shape of his broad back as he disappeared into the next exam room.

  Macie blew out a breath, noting her rapid pulse. A dew of sweat had gathered on the back of her neck. That man is deliciously complicated. And, as insane as it was to think, she felt like she got him. She especially appreciated his no-frills directness. No surprise there, considering what she’d been going through lately. People put on masks around her, and maybe she put on her own mask, too.

  But Dr. Reed is real. Very real. A big turn-on.

  She scratched her cheek and headed out, wondering what excuse she could make to see him again.

  “How’d it go with Dr. Reed?” Kirsten asked when Macie reported for duty forty minutes later.

  Macie resisted the urge to gossip or make a wisecrack like they normally would about a cute doctor: “He’s so hot, they need to have a dry-hump scratch post in his area for releasing pressure.” But Dr. Reed wasn’t a piece of meat or a fantasy. He seemed genuine and to take his work seriously. Not the type of man I can easily joke about.

  “It was good,” Macie replied. “He’s really…nice.”

  “Nice?” Kirsten cocked a dark blonde brow.

  “Yeah. Nice. You’d like him, but I mean that in a non-dry-hump-station kind of way.”

  Kirsten gave her a look.

  “Never mind.” Macie pinned on her name tag.

  “No. Not never mind. I hear he’s eligible and completely uninterested in anyone. Did your gay-dar go off?”

  Macie shook her head. “I think he’s just one of those doctors who’s really in it for the patients.”

  Kirsten chuckled. “Yeah. Right. He’s a plastic surgeon. They’re not exactly humanitarians.”

  “He seems different.”

  “Uh-huh,” Kirsten said doubtingly.

  Okay, Macie wasn’t going to win this one. “You’ll see when you meet him.”

  “Oh, I’m meetin’ him all right. A bunch of us invited him to the Blue Iguana tonight. You in?”

  Macie’s interest didn’t just pique, it stood up on its hind legs, begging. Yes. Yes. But then she wondered if the Chadster would be there to fat shame her.

  Don’t care. I’ll just penis shame him. Now that she’d just been reminded of what a real man looked like and how he behaved, it was hard to take anything Dr. Dickhead said seriously.

  “Yeah, I’ll go. Someone needs to protect Dr. Reed from the horny likes of you.” Macie grinned.

  “Good luck with that.” Kirsten laughed. “Oh! By the way, a package came for you.” She slid out the bottom drawer in the workstation and handed Macie a small golden box with a yellow smiley face sticker.

  “Who’s it from?” Maybe an apology from Goo?

  “I don’t know. Open it.”

  Macie shook the small flat box. Something hard was inside. She popped the lid and saw a notecard sitting atop a cookie wrapped in clear plastic. The cookie also had a smiley face.

  Dear Nurse Franklin, the note said, those of us here at the Happy Pants Café want to thank you for intervening the other night with our beloved Ms. Luci. As ornery as she can be, she means the world to us. You saved her life, and for that, there are no words. Please accept one of our signature cookies as a token of our gratitude.

  With Love,

  Taylor, Manager

  The Happy Pants Café

  “What’s it say?” Kirsten asked.

  Macie quickly pulled up the screen on their computer and toggled to find Ms. Luci’s file from the other night. Her eyes skimmed the doctor’s notes. Test showed she’d had a heart attack.

  “Wow,” Macie muttered with a sense of accomplishment. “I saved someone’s life the other night in the ER.”

  “Nice job! So what’s with the cookie?”

  Macie grabbed it and inspected the thing, flipping it back and forth. “I guess the patient I helped owns a bakery or something.” Macie tucked the box and card away in her purse. “I’ll save it for my after-workout treat.”

  “Greedy,” Kirsten huffed.

  “I eat six cookies a year. No shame in keeping this one all for myself, you pilferer.”

  “Fine. Be that way. But just know that I’m not putting up a fight because I already had four donuts for breakfast. Halie brought in two dozen.” Halie worked in the pharmacy.

  “Well, la-di-da. I don’t eat that crap anyway.” Macie stood and went to start filling up empty exam rooms.

  “I’m taking off. See you tonight,” Kirsten said. “I’ll be the one with the portable stripper pole.”

  Macie shook her head, walking away. Good luck trying to get that man’s attention. From what she could tell, Dr. Reed wasn’t the sort to be enticed by cheap flirtation. But without a doubt, once everyone saw the insane level of sexiness he exuded, she knew that the women in the hospital would be tripping over themselves until someone snagged him.

  Macie felt a twisting sensation in her heart. Unlike all of the other attractive men she’d met throughout her life, this was one she didn’t want to watch floating away into the arms of another woman. She wanted this one for herself.

  The question was, would a man like that ever want a woman like her when he could have anyone he wanted?

  Suddenly, the whole Catrina thing popped in her head. She’d almost forgotten. Oh, hell. If Catrina was his type, she didn’t stand a chance.

  CHAPTER SIX

  For the rest of her shift, Macie’s personal cell beckoned her. That email from Dr. J-Love could not be forgotten. If anything, it made her wonder all the more about the man she’d met this morning. Dr. Reed had major swagger—no, no. That wasn’t right. Swagger implied arrogance, and she couldn’t see an ounce of that in him. He seemed more like a private man who didn’t feel the need to impress others. Also, everyone was talking about how he wasn’t in the market for a relationship, which made the contradiction of his email all the more alluring. The man who’d sent that note was very much looking for love.

  All right. He likes to keep his personal business behind closed doors.

  Or maybe he’s a big horny pervert and doesn’t want anyone to know? Either way, it only added to the intrigue. Macie wanted to find out.

  At seven o’clock, Macie closed out her paperwork for the day and changed back into her plaid pink shorts, light pink T-shirt, and tennis shoes to head down the street. It had been forever since she’d gone to the Blue Iguana to hang out with coworkers, and she felt nervous. Or maybe the nerves were for Dr. Reed. They’d kind of clicked today. All right, that was an exaggeration. She felt an overwhelming attraction. He, on the other hand, wanted the Sports Illustrated version of her.

  Macie walked into the bar—a local dive with bright green velvety pool tables, blue iguana chandeliers, and electric blue lizards hanging on every wall. Their signature drink was a flaming blue mojito with curacao.

  Dr. Reed… Macie immediately spotted his tall frame, along with some of the hospital crew, toward the back of the bar.

  All right. Don’t let him i
ntimidate you. He’s just a man. Said so himself. Macie drew a deep breath. She’d never felt so nervous. But over what? What was the big deal?

  She made her way through the crowded room and around the bar. Dr. Reed sat on a stool in the corner next to a tall table, surrounded by Kirsten and five other glossy-eyed nurses. Apparently, he’d just said something very funny because they were all laughing while he looked a little stiff, like a man who had to work at being social.

  His eyes suddenly gravitated toward Macie, and everyone turned to see who’d grabbed his attention.

  He’s looking at me. Macie’s breath hitched. Oh, dear God. Breathe, Mace. Breathe. She lifted her hand and made a little wave.

  “Nurse Franklin.” Dr. Reed jerked his head. “Had no idea you’d be here.” He stood and offered her his seat. “Come over and help us settle a bet.”

  With all eyes on her, she got into the mix, nodding and doling out the smiles. “I’ll stand, thanks. But wha-what bet?”

  Dr. Reed retook his seat, putting them at eye level.

  Macie liked being closer to his eyes. They were hypnotic.

  Dr. Reed cleared his throat. “Well, these ladies have been arguing for over five minutes. Titanic or The Notebook? Which is the all-time most romantic story ever? I say Titanic.”

  What the…? Macie refrained from laughing for two reasons. Though this was the sort of question she never, ever expected to come from a closed-off man like this, she wouldn’t dare risk insulting him. Two, she’d seen his emails. There was so much more to him than he let on, and she didn’t want to discourage him from showing his soft underbelly. A little tenderheartedness in a man was sexy.

  The women around them, including Kirsten, began screaming out their votes: “Titanic!” “Notebook!”

  “And how would you know about either?” Macie asked, bending toward his ear to whisper.

  Dr. Reed shrugged his perfect brown brows in sync with his wide shoulders. “I’m a man of feeling and compassion, secure in myself. Why wouldn’t I enjoy a classic romance?” Once again, Macie wondered if he was joking, because while his words seemed funny, his face was all seriousness.

  Suddenly, he flashed a grin, and Macie stood there speechless, staring into his eyes, noting his fatal charm. It wasn’t the same smile she’d seen in the photo he’d sent, but that didn’t matter. Any smile coming from him was heart-stopping.

  Thank goodness he doesn’t go around smiling all the time. There’d be dead bodies all over the place.

  “Okay,” she finally spoke up, “the answer is simple.”

  Dr. Reed waited with one brow raised.

  “Hands down, The Princess Bride.”

  “What!” Kirsten blurted. “Oh, no. No, you did not just go there, nursey!”

  “That was not an option,” Dr. Reed said playfully, leaning in close to speak into Macie’s ear. “And now I’m going to have to listen to another five minutes of bickering.”

  The heat of his breath tickled her cheek and sent a spike of warmth straight through her. He smelled nice, too. Like fresh beer and citrusy cologne.

  I love oranges with my suds.

  “Sorry. I’ll fix this.” Macie looked at Kirsten. “Yep! I went there, and I’ll bet you a box of Milk Duds to prove I’m right.” Milk Duds were Kirsten’s favorite snack from the vending machine at work.

  Kirsten crossed her arms while Dr. Reed and the other nurses looked on. “All right, woman. Make your case. I’m all ears.”

  “First,” Macie held up her index finger, “there is no better name than Princess Buttercup. It’s impossible to find anything sweeter. Second, the Dread Pirate Roberts. He’s the culmination of every romantic hero since the dawn of time, condensed like a fine manly broth that’s flawlessly brave, honorable, funny, and sexy.”

  Dr. Reed coughed. “Manly broth? I don’t think you’re winning this.”

  Macie looked around at all of the chuckling, happy starstruck faces, realizing that despite Dr. Reed’s serious disposition, people felt some level of warmth toward him. Mostly between their legs, I’m guessing. She was right there with them.

  “Sorry, girl,” Kirsten said to Macie. “Manly broth killed your argument. I win. You can pay up tomorrow.”

  “What!” Macie scoffed jokingly.

  “Plus, pirates are not sexy,” Kirsten declared.

  “I have to agree with her,” Dr. Reed said.

  Macie looked at him, holding back a smile. “Traitor.”

  Dr. Reed shrugged. “It’s my opinion. I’m entitled to it.” He suddenly glanced down at his watch. “And dammit, I’ve got to run. I’m already late.”

  “A hot date, Dr. Reed?” asked Kirsten, sounding alarmed.

  “Yes. And he gets very upset when I’m late.”

  Like the air had been suddenly poisoned, smiles melted from everyone’s faces, everyone except Macie. She frowned with confusion because clearly the man wasn’t gay. His racy messages and emails proved that.

  I suppose he could be bi. But that didn’t seem to fit either.

  Dr. Reed added, “Especially when his diaper needs changing.” He toggled to something on his phone and showed everyone a picture of the cutest baby in the world. Big eyes, pouty little lips, light brown hair. “His name is Colt, my one-year-old nephew.”

  The nurses’ frowns turned to smiles again. Swoons and oohs erupted.

  He added, “I babysit on Thursdays while my sister gives career-coaching classes to young women.”

  Okay. He loves babies. The man was perfect. Too perfect, in fact. What was the catch? Because Macie couldn’t ding him for being into the Catrinas of the world, especially when he’d been nothing but respectful and friendly toward her—the real her. People were allowed to have their sexual preferences and tastes. But there had to be something wrong with him. Looks, successful career, respectful, honest, loves babies. Hot, hot, hot.

  “Thank you for the company and warm welcome to the hospital, everyone,” he said, heading out while the nurses just sighed with lust in his general direction.

  Suddenly, he stopped and turned near the door. “Nurse Franklin, can I have a moment?”

  Me? Macie’s cheeks flushed. “Errr, sure.”

  The other ladies gave her awkward side glances as she went over to him. What could he possibly want?

  “What’s up?” Macie said.

  “As you know, I just moved to this area, and you mentioned you run a lot. Would you be able to point me toward the best trails around here? I started training last month to run marathons—something I’ve always wanted to do.”

  She had not said she ran. She said she did five miles a day or something like that, but it was all power walking. Still, many of the trails she used were good for both.

  “Oh. Uh…yeah,” she said. “There are a few really good trails—some paved, some flat dirt, and others go through the hills. Gorgeous views of wine country.”

  “The hills sound great. Would it be too much to ask you to text the trail names to me? I’m sure then I can find them on the internet.”

  “Sure.”

  He took out his phone. “What’s your number?”

  He’s asking for my number. He’s asking for my number. She knew he didn’t mean anything by it, but by God, no man had asked for her number in years and, well, it felt really good.

  She opened her mouth, about to give him her personal cell. Wait! Oh shit. No. No. She realized he already had her number from her night of drunken indiscretions. Work cell!

  She gave him the number.

  “Thank you.” He looked down at her, that awkward flicker in his green eyes, as if he was studying her. “You’re welcome to join me if you like. I usually go on Sunday mornings.”

  Huh? Macie stood there, completely in shock, mouth gaping open.

  He definitely noticed because he added, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfor—”

  “No. No.” She held up her palm. “I was just thinking. I usually do a whole hike, brunch, movie thing with my girlf
riends on Sundays, but I’m actually free this weekend.”

  “Good. Running with a partner makes it much more enjoyable.”

  Only, I don’t run. I walk. Oh shit. But the hot, hot doctor wanted to run with her, and she’d already said yes. Oh, dear God! He’ll see me jiggle. Her boobs were a sight to see, like two giant water balloons stuck to her chest. Not even three layers of sports bra could tame them.

  “I’ll text you Saturday to work out the details—gotta run.” He headed out, leaving her there with her spinning head.

  “Wow. What was that?” Kirsten appeared at her side.

  I’m not sure. “He wants to go running.”

  “Can I come?” Kirsten asked.

  “You hate running.”

  “So do you,” Kirsten pointed out.

  “I would learn to love it for a man like him,” Macie muttered under her breath. Jiggling and all.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ten minutes after Macie got home from cocktail hour, where she’d only had a wine spritzer, she decided it was time to do some internet snooping on Dr. Jack Reed. Honestly, she really wanted a reason to snip this infatuation of hers in the bud before it turned into an incurable case of desire.

  She started out with his profile on the hospital website, which listed his board certifications, degrees—wow! Ivy League everything—and his various specialties.

  Okay. This isn’t helping.

  Then there were a few news articles mentioning awards, some humanitarian work, and his connection to a Taylor Reed-Wade, who was married to Bennett Wade.

  Is that the Bennett Wade? Macie looked closer at the picture. Oh, wow. It is. Bennett Wade was one of these billionaire bachelor tabloid obsessions, who’d become even more famous since getting married to…

  Holy crap. He married Jack Reed’s sister. How strange was that?

  Macie then went straight to Google images and immediately spotted pics of Jack mixed in with other major celebrities. Ohmygod…Colt Young? Colt was a rock icon—right up there with the likes of Jagger, Bono, JT—only way more handsome and a bit of a bad boy. Another image was of Jack with that famous retired NASCAR driver…