Page 55 of Dr. Sexypants

It was rare that I got two days off in a row lately. The ER was short-staffed, and everyone was working fifty to sixty hours a week.

While my bank account loved it, I needed a break. I think Michael O’Leary, our chief of staff, knew it and decided that giving me an extra day off was better than me burning out and leaving altogether.

As I walked to my car, I decided to stop at Beaumont Bakery on my way home. I was hoping since it was midday, a certain feisty blonde would be there.

Hopefully, she wouldn’t be working her day job.

When Kristy finally told me what she did for a living, I’ll admit, I’d been a little skeptical. Could people really make a living trading stocks every day? Then she told me her three-year average return, and I quickly became a believer.

She’d beat my retirement accounts by almost five percent—and since I was only in my thirties, I’d elected “aggressive” for my investment style.

“Damn. You should do that for a living.”

“I do,” she’d replied with a smirk.

“No, I mean manage other people’s mon—”

She cut me off. “No way. I’m not going to be responsible for someone else’s financial future. That’s way too much pressure.”

“But obviously, you’re good at it.”

“I’m freaking great at it. Lainey wanted me to oversee her accounts, and I told her the same thing I’ll tell you—invest in blue chip mutual funds.”

“Is that what you do?”

“Yeah, with some of my money. But if I make a bad move—and it happens sometimes, it’s my money I’m losing. I’d feel like a jerk if I lost my friend’s money.”

“But think of how much you could make her.”

“Her portfolio is diversified; she’s doing just fine.”

“So, you did help her.”

“Barely.”

For all her bravado, I realized that Kristy tended to minimize a lot of the good things she did.

Like spearheading tomorrow night’s drone show that was replacing the usual fireworks one. The town didn’t sponsor Fourth of July fireworks—they waited another week for the Founder’s Day celebration.

Right after last year’s display, Kristy had approached the town council about an alternative. Surprisingly, they gave her the green light, and she’d been giving her pitch ever since. Throughout the year, people would stop her and usually express their displeasure about not having fireworks.

“In addition to the fires they cause, the noise stresses animals and some people out. Not to mention the toxic debris the explosives leave behind. Why wouldn’t you want an alternative when one’s available?”

It was hard to argue with that.

Plus, you know, the Third of July Incident from a few years ago. Suffice it to say drunk men and fireworks do not mix.

But even with the incident, I knew people would inevitably still do their own fireworks—but they’d be a smaller scale than a professional display. Some of them probably tonight. But fortunately for me, any accidents that occurred would be Dr. William’s problem.

I was excited to kiss her tomorrow under the drone show, although we hadn’t made any official plans to watch it together.

I hoped to remedy that when I walked through the bakery’s door.

We’d texted this week, but it had been mostly talking about what we’d done that day, mixed with some flirting. I hadn’t seen her in almost four days, and I wanted an excuse to see her. Plus, I still had a gift card balance I needed to use.

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Kristy