Page 8 of Doctor’s Orders

“What? No! Why would I do that? And what do you mean, find you? I wasn’t even looking for you.”

“Likely story.” I shake my head. “What? You thought you’d seduce me, get me hooked on your gorgeous fucking body and then go in for the kill. I should have fucking known better than to take you home with me.”

Her eyes flash with indignation. “What the hell are you even talking about?”

“I’m talking about how you figured out how much I’m worth and you tracked me down. At my place of work, no less.”

“You think I’m … what? Stalking you?”

“That’s obviously what’s happening. I’m not a moron.”

Her hands go to her hips, and she glares up at me. “I could argue that point!”

“Get your ass out of here. I don’t ever want to see you again.” Even to my own ears, that sounds like a lie.

“That’s not what it sounded like when you were moaning my name,” she snaps. “Or how about that last time you woke me up just because you had to have me again? Remember that?”

Of course I fucking remember. I’ve been replaying every moment of that night over and over again since she left. Goddamn it if I still don’t want her. The pull to her is so strong, I have to grip the wood on my desk to prevent myself from going to her. Her cheeks are flushed with anger and her eyes are full of fire. She’s so fucking beautiful I can barely breathe.

“Oh excellent, you’ve met,” Carol says from the doorway. She says nothing about the words Liz and I have been hurling at each other. “Let’s move to the break room so we can all sit and enjoy our coffee.”

With that, Carol leaves again, fully expecting us to follow. It takes several beats for the truth to dawn on me. Carol clearly knows Liz. Knows her and expected her to be here this early in the morning. But that means… I walk around my desk and sure enough, Liz is dressed in scrubs with cartoon elephants all over them.

Because she’s my new nurse.

Fuck.

My.

Life.

I motion for her to go ahead of me and can’t help but place my palm at the small of her back to lead her to the break room.

“You’re Doc West?” she hisses. “The kindly old pediatrician who’s been this town’s doctor for years?”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re not that old.”

“Thank you for noticing.”

“I cannot believe this,” she says.

But then we’re stepping into the room where I have a full sized refrigerator, a table with some chairs, microwave and several other things my employees make use of. I keep the fridge stocked with bottled waters and cans of soda. And the freezer is packed with popsicles. But that’s mostly for the kiddos.

“Now then, Lizzie Greer, this is Doctor Graham West. Or maybe y’all already covered that. Hard to tell with all the yelling,” Carol says.

Liz’s—no, Lizzie’s—eyes squeeze shut as if merely looking away will make this mess less … well, messy.

“He was supposed to be a kindly old small-town doctor,” she says.

“Yeah, it’s a real bite in the ass when you realize how handsome he is. Don’t worry though, I’m sure he’ll get on your nerves sooner or later.”

Lizzie shakes her head. “No, this can’t happen. I can’t—we can’t—work together.”

“Too late for that, honey,” Carol says.

I recognize her syrupy-sweet-but-don’t-you-talk-back-to-me voice. It gets the kids every time to comply with shots, nasty medicine and everything in between.