I glare at her. “Yes. I’m going out with a friend.”
She studies me as if to determine whether I’m pulling a fast one on her or not, and then she narrows her eyes. “You’re serious?”
Annie looks just as intrigued. “Who’s this friend?”
Meanwhile poor Lawrence has been abandoned and he awkwardly shuffles his feet, looking like he would rather be anywhere else.
“A friend,” I repeat, grumbling internally and then I look toward the discomfited man. “Sorry.”
He brightens up when he sees me looking so apologetic. “Tomorrow, then?”
I blink, feeling a little uneasy. Getting back in the dating game isn’t exactly something which has been a top priority for me. But as I see the hopeful look in his eyes, I wonder if it would be that bad. However, Annie takes the choice out of my hands, neatly, beaming at him. “Of course she’s free tomorrow. Why don’t you leave your number, cutie?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to date him?” I mutter under my breath and her smile doesn’t falter as she elbows me in the side making me hiss out.
Lawrence glances between us and then his cheeks turn red as he writes down his number on a piece of paper and hands it to me. Annie plucks it from his fingers. “See you tomorrow!”
He really is kind of cute, I muse, and then I turn to glare at my friend. “Do you see me setting you up on dates?”
Annie fans herself with the piece of paper. “You’re welcome.”
Mathilda straightens up and walks over. “He’s hot and so shy that it makes me want to rip his clothes off.”
“Aren’t you engaged?” I raise a brow.
She gives me an innocent smile. “There’s no harm in window shopping.”
“Come on guys,” I try to beseech them. “I really don’t want to go on a date.”
Annie rolls her eyes. “When was the last time you had sex?”
I blush, fiercely. “Shut up.”
She snorts. “From the look of you, it’s been a while.” She puts a hand on my shoulder, her expression serious. “You need a good fuck.”
I bury my face in my hands, groaning. “I need new friends.”
“Nurse Alexandra,” comes a sharp voice.
I stiffen and lift my head. “Dr. Greer. Do you need something?”
Dr. Harris Greer is one of one of the senior doctors and he’s known for being picky about the smallest of things. He joined the hospital just a week after I returned from my leave. He’s tall and good-looking with that classic all-American blonde hair and blue eyes. The nurses find him incredibly attractive. But I’ve never really looked at him that way.
He’s always calm and composed, a certain aloofness about him that makes even the other doctors hesitant to approach him. There are plenty of rumors about him in the hospital about how he was a child prodigy who bounced from foster home to foster home until he finally put himself through medical school when he was eighteen. There’s no denying that he is extremely hardworking. He’s one of the most dedicated doctors I’ve seen in this place.
For some reason though, while his interaction with other nurses is minimal, when it comes to me, he’s always after me to handle his patients exclusively. Out of everyone who works in the hospital, I’m the only one who has the most interaction with him.
“Come with me,” he orders and I follow after him obediently, feeling a little irked at being commanded around.
“Freddie Denver.” He hands me a file. “I assigned you to her case. Why is Nurse Jackie looking after my patient?”
We’ve rounded the corner and are standing in an empty hall now and he turns around to face me, his arms crossed over his chest. I give him a calm look. “Did she do something wrong?”
“That’s not what I asked.”
The sheer arrogance of him ruffles my feathers and my fiery personality which has been buried deep inside me, rears its head, and I blink, slowly. “I have a lot of patients to look after. And Nurse Jackie looked in on Freddie after shift change. You can hardly expect me to stay past my shift because of your patient.” His eyes widen fractionally, probably at my frosty tone, but I don’t let him get a word in edgewise, as I continue. “Nurse Jackie is more qualified than I am so unless you want to launch a complaint about me not putting in overtime to see to your patient, I don’t think we have a problem here.”
His jaw tightens and I see a flash of some emotion in his eyes before he tilts his head, and studies me. The sudden silence makes me realize what just came out of my mouth but it’s too late to take back any of it. I’m not his personal nurse to run about after each and every one of his patients. I cross my fingers in my heart and hope I’ve not pissed him off too much.
For a second, I imagine the ghost of a smile on his face before it returns to that impassive expression. “I understand.”
I’m about to let out a breath of relief when he continues. “However, only for when you’re not on shift. Otherwise, I prefer you to handle my patients.” He pauses as if the next part isn’t easy for him. “They like your bedside manner.”
He walks away from me and I stand there, baffled.
Was I just complimented?
I stare at his retreating back, stunned beyond belief.
The day passes by slowly and just before the end of my shift, I stop by the ICU and check in on Braden. I check his chart as he lies there, strapped to the beeping machines. His vitals are normal and I adjust his morphine drip before standing at the edge of his bed and staring at him.
I don’t know when it hits me but my eyes widen in stark recognition. “Shit.”
He’s the guy who was talking to the Frenchman the other day!
My throat is suddenly dry and my right hand reaches up to clutch my left elbow. I don’t know why I’m getting worked up but the memory of those lips on me, the firm grip on my waist as he completely destroyed me with one kiss, it has me scrambling.
A soft groan has me focusing on the present.
“Mr. Fox?”
The heart rate monitor picks up and I immediately try to calm down the disorientated man. “You’re in a hospital. How are you feeling?”
His eyes are dazed. “Damien?”
“There’s no Damien here,” I tell him as he reaches out to clutch the sleeve of my cardigan. “I’m Nurse Alex. You can’t move about. You’ve just had surgery.”
“Where’s Damien?” he asks, his eyes unfocused, his tone shaken, and pity and concern stirs in me, and I say gently, “They didn’t find anybody else at the scene.”
He’s falling back into unconsciousness and I page Jen who’s there within the next ten minutes.
“He’s out,” I tell her, feeling troubled. I watch her bustle about, and say, “He was asking after someone named Damien.” When I meet her eyes, I continue. “I don’t think he was alone at the crash site. This is the second time he’s asked for this Damien person.”
Jen presses her lips together. “There was an officer here asking questions earlier. I’ll let him know.”
I follow her out of the room and by the time my shift ends, I’m dead on my feet.