He snorted and rolled his eyes, and I wanted nothing more than to haul off and clobber him. Instead, I pushed my chair back and rose to my feet, stiffening my spine and narrowing my eyes.
“It was my understanding when I took this position that my role would be as a full partner in the planning and implementation of treatment for the patients here. That’s how it’s usually done. I don’t know what your experience is with naturopathic doctors, but we don’t exist to do your scut work. We’re not window dressing to make your facility look like it’s forward-thinking and innovative. I’m here to make sure the patients have every benefit of both worlds—of scienceandnature, of traditional medicine and natural remedies. That’s how this works.”
Dr. Girard’s eyes glittered with something akin to fury. “Dr. Carson, this is my hospital. My wing. My town. I’m the one who calls the shots. I’m the one who says how things work, and I’m here to tell you that the kind of partnership you envision is only possible if there is mutual respect. And that sort of respect begins with not making arbitrary decisions about care.” He smacked one palm flat onto the counter, making the two nurses who were staring at both of us jump. “This morning, I’ll be explaining to the Spencers that until such a time as I see the need for change, Angela’s chemo will proceed exactly as I originally prescribed. In the meantime, you will stay away from her unless I give you express permission to participate.”
I was so angry, so supremely pissed off that my head began to spin a little. Still, I held it together as I leaned forward and spoke in a tone my friends and enemies would’ve recognized as deadly.
“The hell I will. You may be the guy who made this wing possible, and you might be the big man on campus in this town. But you’re not my boss, Dr. Girard. You’d do well to keep that in mind before you go around issuing ultimatums and directives.” I eased back slightly and pasted an icy smile on my lips. “And until such a time as the board tells me otherwise, I’m going to keep on doing my job. So you can take all your bullshit superiority crap and shove it right up your fine ass.”
He didn’t answer me right away, but his eyes bore into mine. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and even. “You can watch this fine ass walk away from you, lady, because I’m going to my office right now. I suggest—suggest, mind you, not order, not command—that you come join me there whenever you feel that you’re ready, so we can have a rational, adult and professional conversation. In private.” His gaze flickered over to Darcy and Nurse whoever she was. “Ladies, I apologize. I didn’t get much sleep last night on the plane, and I’m not myself.”
Without another word, he turned and stalked down the hall. I stood there watching him—as he’d predicted, damn him—my heart thundering and my palms clammy.
“Holy shit.” Darcy glanced up at me. “I mean . . . wow. That was—intense.”
I sank back into the chair. “It was stupid. I shouldn’t have said what I did at the beginning, and then instead of apologizing, I doubled-down.” I paused. “I mean, I still think I was right in what I said. I just should’ve phrased it better.”
“I’m pretty sure I saw steam coming out of Deacon’s head,” Darcy giggled. “Don’t beat yourself up too much, Emma. Deacon gets his dander up pretty good sometimes. And it doesn’t help that everyone around here treats him like he’s the second coming of Elvis. He’s not used to people standing up to him. It’ll do him good to be taken down a peg or two.”
“Yeah, but I just wish it hadn’t been me at our very first meeting.” I blew out a long breath. “Okay. I’m going to finish up these notes on Mr. Crew, and then I guess I’ll go down and . . . grovel a little.”
“Don’t go too soon, and don’t grovel too much,” the other nurse—was her name Andi?—advised. “Let him stew a bit and see where he went wrong, too. Darcy’s right. He’s like a spoiled prince around this town.”
“But we love him anyway.” Darcy patted my arm. “He’s not a bad guy. He’s just intense. And very sure of himself. The fact that he’s almost always right and gets incredible stuff done around here doesn’t go far in making him a humble man.”
“Awesome.” I sighed. “This ought to be fun.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, just as the shift was changing and the hospital was transitioning from nighttime vibe into daytime brightness, I dragged my feet down the hallway toward Dr. Girard’s office. I hadn’t felt this much trepidation and guilt since I was a sophomore in high school.
The door was open, and I paused just outside. He was sitting at the desk, his head bent over the keyboard of his computer. As before, he seemed to feel my presence before I made a sound.
“I wondered if you’d come, or if you’d just pretend that this morning didn’t happen.”
I sighed, resting my back against the doorjamb and stretching my neck. “I have a quick temper, and I have a tendency to speak before I think. My mother used to say that my mouth went into drive before my brain was engaged. But even so, I don’t hold a grudge, and I always own up to my mistakes.”
“That’s good to know.” Finally, Dr. Girard looked up. “On the other hand, I’m a stubborn son of a bitch. I have an unfortunate habit of holding onto grievances long after I should let them go.” He shrugged. “For instance, I still remember the outfielder who ran into me during the championship game in high school. He ruined my perfect catch, even though I’d called it, and cost us the win.”
“Maybe it was just a mistake, and he was trying to help.” I shifted so that my upper arm pressed into the side of the doorway, tilting my head. “Maybe he didn’t realize you were going to catch it.”
“I’dcalledit,” Dr. Girard repeated, his forehead drawing together.
I raised both of my eyebrows and stayed quiet, waiting.
“Okay.” He spread out his hands. “So he probably didn’t do it on purpose, and I know he felt bad afterward. Or at least he said he did. I guess it’s time for me to think about forgiving that one.”
“You think?” I wandered further into the office and pointed to the chair on the other side of the desk. It was piled with files. “Can I sit down?”
“Yeah, just move those over to the table.” The doctor got to his feet. “Here. Give them to me.”
I scooped up the papers, pausing when Dr. Girard loomed over me and removed some from the top. We were both silent until the files were transferred to the coffee table that sat in front of a small, uncomfortable-looking love seat. I sat down in the now-empty chair, while the doctor leaned against the edge of his desk. His long legs, stretched out in front him and crossed at the ankles, were disturbingly close to me.
I drew in a deep breath, settling and centering myself before I looked up into his eyes. “Hello, Dr. Girard. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Emma Carson, the naturopathic doctor you hired.”
A momentary flash of surprise and humor crossed his face, and then he braced one hand on the desk and extended the other toward me. “It’s good to finally meet you in person, Dr. Carson. I’m Deacon Girard.”
When I slipped my hand into his, my immediate impression was of strength. His hands were not soft; I felt callouses rubbing against my own skin. Clearly, this was not a man content to sit behind a desk or stand at an operating table all day long. I wondered fleetingly if those callouses had come from his time in South America.
