I turn away. When I face him again, I catch his gaze flicking over my ass, and I smirk. His cheeks color.
He reallydoeswant me.
“I’m going to get your first appointment started,” I tell him. I lower my mouth to his ear, and my lips graze the shell. He shudders. “Seems like a conflict of interest, you checking me out all the time. You like what you see?”
He sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. Weak moment.”
“Yes. I think you must have lots of those.”
Thirty minutes later, I watch Grant as he instructs our patient in what to expect after his knee injection. The patient, a tall, ruddy-cheeked man in his sixties, listens and nods along. The man is likely headed for a knee replacement at some point, but he wants to try some other conservative measures first. Grant has already talked the case over with Dr. Fields, who seems to trust him.
Grant maintains a warm, polite bedside manner. It’s infuriating.
I prepare the tools for Grant. I’m trained to give cortisone shots, but he wants to do it himself. He aims a little smile my direction as he reaches for the syringe.
He is so cute, damn him. A flash of heat covers my face and neck. I can’t even tell who’s messing with who anymore.
He deserves to be tortured a little, though. I can capitalize on this electricity buzzing between us.
After finishing our procedure, I stop him in the hallway with a hand on his arm. He jolts at the touch.
He glances down to where my hand rests. When he lifts his head again, his gaze holds mine, his stare dark and intense. I always thought the notion of “eyes darkening” to be a case of overzealous literary description, but I would characterize his attention that way, noting how his pupils swallow his irises.
Yikes. Did I say this wasn’t a sexy rivalry? The room temperature suggests otherwise. I snatch my hand away. “Sorry,” I mutter, “I just wanted to talk about the next lady on your schedule.”
“Oh.” He straightens and shakes his arms out, seeming to clear fog from his brain.
We talk a little more, but my mind spins the whole time. I’m not sure I can mess with him without getting all muddled myself. I almost lost control of that situation, and I won’t let it happen again.
Our next surgery day sees me eating vendor-supplied lunch in the hospital lounge. The other residents are there, along with the attending physicians and the other nurses. Some dude in a button-down and khakis is showing us shoulder orthotics for reverse shoulder replacements.
I really shouldn’t even be here, but I’ve never turned down free food. The hospital has a rule against meals from vendors, and somehow they’ve gotten around it today with some bullshitty exception. I don’t know. I don’t really care, either.
Grant sits to one side of me, legs spread a little like he owns the fucking place. Theawarenessof him heats the side of my body. Each time he so much as scratches his arm, my skin prickles. I steal a glance at him. I could take my finger and trace a path along his thigh if I wanted.
Our charged moment from the clinic is mucking around in my head. This current version of Grant blurs the lines a bit, softens the worst edges of his treatment of me. I need to remember why I can’t be too nice to him.
Isaac, one of the third-year residents with the reddest hair I’ve ever seen, gets my attention from my other side. We’re all seated in comfy rolling chairs in an arranged semi-circle.
“I heard you might be joining our ranks soon,” he says. “Is it too late to talk you out of it?”
“I’ve lost my mind,” I tell him, “starting med school this late.”
“I was thinking less about your age and more about how it consumes your every waking moment.” He points to a tiny scar near his eye. He has so many freckles I wouldn’t have seen it if he hadn’t pointed it out. “Plus it’s dangerous. This is from an unfortunate incident my intern year involving this really high dude I treated in the ER. A literal physical scar.”
“It gives you character,” I tell him. “Besides, if you think I haven’t had to deal with some real wild stuff as a nurse, you would be wrong.”
I can feel Grant watching us from his position. What is he thinking? I find myself wondering that a lot.
George, who I’m gradually coming to dislike intensely, speaks up next to Isaac.
“That’s a big jump in difficulty. From nurse to physician.”
“Is it?” I prop my hand on my chin. “I would love to hear more about that.”
“The curriculum isn’t even close,” George says. “You’ll have a lot more responsibility.”
“Dude.” Isaac nudges George. “She’s fucking with you.”
