“I am. Although I’m currently in a managerial position.” She makes a face.
“Not your thing?”
“I spend all day putting out fires between the employees. Two nurses who don’t like each other. Computer system goes down. Patients on the phone freaking out about billing issues. Everything falls to me, and none of it is nursing or actually caring for patients, which was what I loved. I thought it would be easier than emergency medicine, but it’s not. It’s just a different kind of hard.”
“Can you go back?”
“I don’t know. I’m considering doing a travel nurse thing, where I just take short-term jobs all over the country. The pay is fantastic, and I’d get to see places I’ve never seen before.”
“So, you’d be a road warrior like me.”
“I guess.”
“Not conducive to getting into a relationship, though,” I point out.
She wrinkles her nose. “Ugh. Why you gotta rain on my parade? I almost had a plan.”
I laugh. “You know what they say about the best-laid plans.”
She sticks her tongue out at me, and of course, horn dog that I am, my thoughts go to all the other things she could be doing with that tongue.
I really need to get my mind out of the gutter.
“I’ll figure it out,” she says after a moment. “I’ve only been at this job six months. I’d like to give it a year. At that point, I’ll reassess. They’ve promised me a secretary. If that happens, I might be happier.”
“Life is short,” I say softly. “If the job is making you miserable, don’t stay. Yes, you have to make a living, but you’re skilled. Nurses are in high demand, from what I’ve read online, so don’t torture yourself at a place that makes you so unhappy you don’t sleep.”
Her face softens as she nods. “I keep thinking that maybe there’s something wrong with me, that two jobs in a row made me miserable, but you’re right. I’m skilled. I’m employable. I shouldn’t have to put up with stress-induced insomnia. So, thank you. I needed to hear that.”
“Believe me, I know what it’s like to be miserable. Avoid it at all costs.”
“You’re sweet, Ross.”
If I’m smart, I’ll ask her out and get it over with. If she says yes, we could spend a little time together and see if the spark goes beyond the sexual attraction. She’s smart and beautiful, two things I love in a woman, and there’s no doubt she likes me. The only question is whether she likes Ross-the-forty-two-year-old-tour-manager or if she’s simply infatuated with Ross-the-has-been-rocker.
Before I have a chance to say anything, my phone buzzes.
It’s a text from Devyn, our bass player.
DEVYN: Can you come up to the room? Kingston may not be able to sing tonight.
“I’m sorry,” I tell Wynter, waving to get the waitress’s attention. “I have to go. Something’s going on with Kingston.”
Kingston Knight is the band’s frontman.
“Oh no. Is he sick?” She looks up with concern.
“I don’t know. All Devyn said was that he might not be able to sing tonight.”
“Maybe I can help?” she says, quickly getting to her feet as I sign my name on the ticket so breakfast will be charged to my room.
I hesitate but then nod. “Sure. Thanks. Let’s go.”
Chapter Four
Wynter
I’m not a doctor, and I’m certainly no expert in anything to do with vocal chords, but Kingston’s throat looks red and inflamed. Without tests it’s impossible to know what’s wrong, but there’s no doubt something is going on. He said he feels okay, except for the sore throat.
