Holly told herself that the hitch in her breath was a reaction to the trouble she knew she was getting into and not a reaction to the man before her. He was just making her uneasy, she told herself, ignoring the fact that when he smiled, Molson was very good looking. “Fine. Do we have a deal? You’ll ask your brother, find out what you can about the case and let me know?”
“Sure thing, Beautiful,” Molson complimented her as he left, closing the door.
Holly took a shaky breath and wondered exactly what she’d gotten herself into.
“Here is the cafeteria. Bring money. Just because you have practicum here doesn’t mean you get free meals,” Fielding raised an eyebrow as Molson rejoined the group. “Where have you been Colborne?”
“Got sidetracked,” Molson decided that was explanation enough. He wasn’t about to tell his supervising doctor that he’d been pulled aside by a gorgeous shrink with a cute little body and long blond hair. Fielding might think that he was having his head examined or something.
“Get sidetracked again and you can get suspended,” Fielding smirked. “Pop quiz, what are the most likely foods people choke on? Colborne, you’re up.”
Fielding enjoyed springing little quizzes on everyone. Then he made fun of anyone who got the answers wrong. Not overtly enough that he could be charged with harassment, but enough that anyone who got an answer wrong felt like a numbskull for the rest of the day.
“Steak and beer for men. Chicken for women. Hotdogs for kids,” Molson recited, remembering his first aid instructor telling them during class. “The wet dough of the bun acts like a messy glue, lodging the hotdog.”
“Correct,” Fielding’s smile disappeared, replaced by a scowl. “Explain the appropriate course of treatment for a choking person.”
Molson began to drawl the textbook word for word when Fielding stopped him.
“In your own words,” Fielding demanded.
“I could show you, if Fred here don’t mind throwing up,” Molson clasped a hand on Fred’s shoulder.
“I think I do mind,” Fred responded dryly.
An annoyed Fielding turned abruptly. “Moving on.”
“You realize he controls your practicum grade?” Fred whispered to Molson. “Aggravating him is probably not in your best interest.”
“You think?” Molson said dryly. “Here I thought I was making myself teacher’s pet.”
“Funny,” Fred commented.
The rest of the tour wasn’t very exciting, Molson thought privately. Fielding poked him a few more times, but Molson decided not to play into the doctor’s hands. He was getting real tired of the attitude his teacher had.
Fielding finished the tour. “Here are your assignments. You will report on time. You will not miss time without authorization. You will follow the instructions of your supervising doctor. I’ve done my best to partner each of you with someone who will instruct you well.”
He called names and began handing out the schedules.
“Colborne.”
Molson lazily came forward, collecting the paperwork. He perused the schedule, then the bottom dropped out of his stomach.
Fielding was his supervising doctor.
Molson grimaced. This was not going to go well. Fielding hated him. Why would he want to be his supervising doctor? If he was seeking to punish Molson, he was also punishing himself.
Everyone began to disburse. Molson continued to look over his schedule, committing it to memory.
“Is there a problem Colborne?” Fielding asked sharply.
“Nah, why would there be a problem?” Molson had the sneaking suspicion the man was waiting for him to complain.
“I’ve got my eye on you,” Fielding narrowed his eyes before walking away.
“I’ve got Redding,” Fred looked over at Molson’s schedule. “Fielding? Dude, that’s got to suck.”
“No kidding,” Molson wasn’t pleased.
