Page 49 of Dr. Weston

“I hear you. I’m going to try to relax. I’m not planning to leave the resort tonight. Why don’t you go enjoy yourself?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

I laugh as Porter scurries out the door.

Might as well hit the gym. Otherwise, my curiosity will get the best of me, and I’ll start hunting for her all over this place.

* * *

Room service, a glass of wine, and the heavy workout at the gym should’ve relaxed me, yet I’m still wired. I can’t even focus on work.

Grabbing my sunglasses and a baseball cap, I make my way to the main area of the resort. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ll just get a drink at the bar. I just need to burn off some of this nervous energy.

The layout of the property has been well thought out. There are little alcoves dotted with brightly colored tropical plants that lure you off the main path toward the restaurants, bars, and pool. After pulling my hat down and dipping my head at passersby, I decide to stick to the less traveled trails in case I come upon Poppy.

As I walk up to an open-air bar with a view of the main restaurant and pool, I dart inside and ask for a gin and tonic before taking a seat in the corner. A small garden like area separates the bar from the pool, but from this vantage point, I can enjoy both the ocean, the poolside nightly entertainment, as well as the comings and goings of the resort guests. The sun sets early here, but the pool area is well lit. I’ve found over the last few evenings that the reflection of the moonlight over the water’s surface to be undeniably relaxing.

The bartender delivers my drink and I settle back in my chair, trying to enjoy the environment. Maybe I’m just not built to relax. I have to acknowledge that being caught in the fray is where I seem to thrive—even if it’s exhausting.

There were occasions when the girls were small that I was able to unwind and lie on the floor to play with them. But it was usually after a long, stressful day. We took family vacations. But I preferred to rent a beach house, whereas Camile wanted to travel somewhere exotic. It took a few years to figure out that the beach house made it easier to stay in touch with the office and my accountant.And keep working.

Camile caught on to this quicker than I did. I’d assumed she enjoyed the vacations in over-the-top destinations because she was used to such a lavish lifestyle. That may have played a part in where she chose to go, but ultimately, those trips forced me to detach. While most healthy people revel in the weeklong break from the chaos, it only made me edgy.

I’m not a total control freak. There’s no doubt I can spend more time with my girls and pull back from the pace I’ve grown accustomed. It’s just a matter of breaking the cycle. When I graduated from my surgical fellowship, I couldn’t wait to put my years of education to work and start building my practice. It’s grown beyond anything I could’ve imagined.

While my father and grandfather earned their millions in business, I’ve always been drawn to medicine. My grandmother had been a nurse back in her day. Perhaps the many hours I was in her care rubbed off on me.

Dad had tried to talk me out of going to medical school.It’s long hours and strife for little reward,he’d said. Yet I’d grown up watching him be beholden to the mighty dollar. He was a good man but a slave to success.

My grandfather, while disappointed I wouldn’t take over the family business, was more supportive of my choices. I’m sure dear old Dad is having the last laugh now, watching me work every bit as hard as he did. The difference is, hopefully, I’m learning before it’s too late. In the wise words of my oldest daughter,I have more money than I know what to do with. Now I simply need to find a way to scale back my efforts at work to allow for a more fulfilling and meaningful life. Which is proving difficult since my brain seems to think the only way to feel satisfied is with a scalpel in my hand.

A warm breeze flows through the bar, bringing an electricity with it. The evening’s entertainment hasn’t changed, nor have there been any shrieks from children in the pool area. Visibly, the area seems unchanged. But I feel it before I see it.

See her.

Sitting up in my chair, I instinctively pull my cap down lower and take her in. Wearing a long, flowy yellow sundress, Poppy strolls across the pool deck, her blonde locks dancing in the wind. She’s wearing heeled sandals, carrying a cocktail of some sort. And a book. I love that she reads. Picturing her in a tiny pair of pajamas, curled up on the couch with her book as she occasionally gazes out over the azure water below makes my dick stir. Who knew I was into bookish women?

I watch as she lowers herself onto a chaise, places her book in her lap, and takes a sip of her red and white frozen drink. There’s a contented smile on her face that warms my heart. It’s been a rare occasion to see her laugh or smile at the hospital. If nothing else comes of this giveaway charade, at least I’ve given her this.Okay, who am I kidding? I want a lot more to come of this.

I don’t know much about her personal life beyond what Jarod and Stu have shared. Her husband died about eight years ago. She lives alone. She has a brother in Blacksburg with a wife and kids. Her mother resides in a local long term care facility. And, as I learned the hard way, she doesn’t appear to date anyone from the hospital.

Poppy slides off her shoes, and I watch as her feet dance to the beat. The resort entertainment for the evening includes a dance troop who perform acrobatics to the distinctly Jamaican music. Whether poolside, seated at the open-air restaurant, or in the water, all eyes appear to be on them.

But mine.

“Can I get you another?” a staff member asks, pointing to my empty glass.

I start to say no, but then reconsider. This is the best entertainment I’ve had in ages. I might as well enjoy myself.

“Sure. But can I try one of those red and white frozen concoctions everyone’s drinking?”

“A Miami Vice? Sure. Coming right up.”

I can’t recall the last time I drank a frozen drink of any kind. But I’m curious to know what Poppy’s sipping on.

As if on cue, she lifts the straw to her mouth and takes another sip. As she puts her drink on the table beside her, I watch as her tongue darts out to lick her lips and feel my cock jump in my pants.Hell. I might need to dump the damn cocktail in my lap if this keeps up.

The server brings my cheesy, overflowing red and white layered frozen cocktail and deposits it beside me. I take a sip, and my tongue is hit with a frosty sugary sensation. It’s essentially a combination of a strawberry Daiquiri and a Pina Colada. I turn to look behind the bar and notice both are readily available from slush machines. I can’t help but chuckle. I’m sure it’s not bad for relaxing by the pool on a hot summer day, but I’ll stick to my scotch.

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