“Not a hookup.” Roan’s deathly quiet words made the younger attending wince and drop his gaze.
“Sorry, Captain.” Crozier realized the faux pas of his suggestion about the nature of his chief’s relationship. “When she rotated, were you together?”
“Filed the paperwork in February.” Roan stuck with the truth, letting Crozier assume the two of them had been chastely interacting until she left anesthesia.
When they arrived on the first floor, Roan was surprised by the sheer number of physicians gathered in one place for something as pedestrian as coffee. He was one hundred percent certain every single department had their own fully functional coffee machine.
Clarissa answered the question he hadn’t asked, “This is the only time the post and pre calls see each other outside of sign-out.”
This vastly decreased the likelihood his close proximity to Clarissa would get him a second glance.
Then again, he might have been wrong about what got a second glance. A group of surgeons passed by them, as did the cardiologist, Dr. Angela Perkins. A few heads swiveled in her direction because, Roan noted with clinical detachment, she had changed her wardrobe and darkened her hair—clothing much more flattering than the scrubs she usually wore.
Willow, a small blonde figure in scrubs, worked her way through the throng to Clarissa’s side, also watching Perkins’s retreating form. “I can’t believe it. The ER residents won’t shut up about it. How was I the fiftieth to know?”
The two women put their heads together as Willow launched into what Roan assumed was a soliloquy about her actual boyfriend, an ER resident. Roan barely listened, wishing he hadn’t had to trade his limited Clarissa time for the coffee cart and socializing with others, especially his own department.
Why was Crozier standing at rapt attention for this relationship drama?
By the time they reached the front of the line, Roan was prepared to pay for as many coffees as it took to flee the scene. Unfortunately, that was when someone started calling out for Willow.
“Willow, there you are.” The silver-haired ER resident, Zac Newport, shoved his way to the front. His ears must have been burning.
Clarissa acted as a wall to prevent his approach to her roommate. “She isn’t interested in talking.”
“Or texting. Or emailing. Very mature,” Newport said. He too was dressed in scrubs, which didn’t reveal whether he was pre-call, post-call, or pre-post shift in the ER.
Clarissa lifted her chin and gave him a set-down in a far too syrupy voice. “Maybe you should take it as a sign you should be groveling instead of growling at her.”
“I wanted to talk to Willow, Morgan. This isn’t your problem.”
“Which part of 'grovel' don't you get?” Clarissa used the tone one would use talking to a small child, a skill she had mastered.
Roan didn’t get to see her in action like this often, so he sat on his heels to watch the show. He wasn’t alone. Behind them, the doctors were rearranging themselves into an almost circle to watch the fireworks.
Zac rolled his eyes. “I don't have anything to apologize for.”
Willow pivoted around Clarissa to confront Newport, poking him in the chest. “Really? Maybe the next time you hit on the cardiology fellow who's going through a Pretty Woman phase, you should do it in PRIVATE. Not in front of all your little gossipy ER buddies or the crosscovering residents from every specialty in the hospital.”
“It was nothing. I was teasing my intern,” Newport protested.
“Yeah, I'm an intern, and I don't ask other doctors to go to dinner with me. Or get shamed by my attending Doyle, who can definitely identify flirting,” Willow barked back. “You thought you'd get away with it? The grapevine at MetroGen spreads faster than syphilis in the psych ward.”
Not that he cared much about Willow and Newport’s situationship, Roan had to concede she had a great point about the grapevine, while he couldn’t comment on the syphilis situation.
“Are we playing this game? I heard plenty about you and anesthesia,” Zac accused her right back.
Oh, maybe Roan needed to get involved now. While Tank’s latest messages confirmed he was still off bounty hunting in Oregon and Clarissa had been putting him off, they might have underestimated his ability to reach across the country and meddle.
Roan opened his mouth to interject, but Newport wasn’t done. “You went to four basketball games with HIM!” Newport waved a hand at... Drew Crozier.
The assembled group of doctors swiveled their heads to a flushing Drew.
That turned things on its head, and Roan decided he’d give Drew the benefit of the doubt about Clarissa. It was possible most of Drew’s interest in Clarissa was because of her roommate.
“It's not what you think,” Crozier ventured. “It was a city-wide basketball tournament.”
“You weren't sniffing around my girl?” Newport accused, redirecting his anger.
