Page 12 of Undeniably Convenient

It’s situations like this that made me want to be a surgeon. I know what it’s like to be the family member, the child, about to lose everything, and every time I step into the OR, I work my ass off to make sure that doesn’t happen to someone else the way it happened to me.

I hustle my way to the elevator—because there is no way I’m jogging up eight floors before going into surgery—reading a text that tells me that OR three is being prepped for my patient when a shadow moves in directly beside me and two things I hate happen at once.

The first, my stomach does a somersault and my heart speeds up when I catch the scent of whatever soap, shampoo, or deodorant he uses that’s so freaking heavenly. The second, the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention when he accidentally brushes against me.

“Where are you headed to, Dr. Barrows?” Bennett asks, his voice low.

I blow out a silent breath, buzzing in a way I know better than to buzz. “The OR. I’m doing an ex-lap on a patient with a suspected splenetic laceration. You?”

“I was told you had a trauma down here, and then I saw you walking toward the elevator.”

I twist to him. “Were you looking for me?”

His eyes dance about my face, and then he clears his throat and turns back toward the elevator. “I happen to have some free time this afternoon, and I thought I’d assist you in surgery.”

I scoff. “Assist me, huh? I’m cute, not stupid, Dr. Lawson. I know full well you’re here to evaluate my work as you are every other resident in your program.”

He smirks but still doesn’t look at me. “You’re a hell of a lot more than cute, Katy, and I certainly never thought of you as stupid. But I don’t remember you being this brave and bold with me the last time I knew you.”

I dip my head to hide the smile the flutters in my belly are trying to spread across my face and press on. “The last time you knew me I was a third-year medical student. I was there to look but not speak or touch. If you want to assist me, be my guest. I’m not sure how much help I’ll require with an ex-lap and possible splenectomy.”

Just then, the elevator doors open, and he pans his hand, indicating I should get on first.

I shake my head in horror and take a step back. “No way. I’m not getting on an elevator with you.”

He twists and starts walking backward, stepping onto the elevator and giving me a taunting look. “I thought you were brave and bold. A total badass trauma surgeon who never turned down a challenge.”

Defiantly, I fold my arms. “Really? You’re going to throw down the gauntlet like that?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, leaning casually against the elevator wall and holding the open button on the panel. “Hey, I’m the one who’s been stuck three times, and here I am, tempting fate while making it my bitch. But you go ahead and take the stairs.” He rolls his wrist and checks his watch. “I’m sure the patient is stable enough to wait for you to do that. Spleens aren’t notorious for being bleeders or anything.”

“Bastard,” I grumble under my breath and reluctantly step on the elevator beside him, making sure I give him a wide berth.

“What was that? I’m not sure I caught it.”

I rock back and forth from my heels to the balls of my feet as I stare straight ahead, trying to focus on my breathing. “Probably better that way. It wasn’t particularly kind.”

He smiles, making his dimple divot deeper into his chin. “Do you normally call your boss a bastard?”

My teeth sink into my bottom lip, and I pinch the inside of my palm to quell this… this feeling. “I thought you said you didn’t hear it.”

“No. I said I wasn’t sure I caught it. I lied. I was curious to see if you’d admit it or try to cover it with something else.”

My gaze stays trained straight ahead. Why did I get on this elevator? It’s about to lock me in here and start moving. Especially since he finally releases the open button. “Yes, I normally call my boss a bastard. Just ask Wes. Though, in fairness to him, I only used it when he was being a particularly bastardy bastard and it was more a term of endearment since I’ve known him practically my entire life. He’s good friends with my uncle, Callan.”

“Bastardy bastard? Hm. That sounds a lot like me. At least as of late.” Before I can question that, he continues with, “Your uncle works in the ER here. So does his wife, Layla, right?”

That catches me by surprise. My neck twists and my chin lifts so I can gawk at the side of his handsome face. “How did you know that?”

He doesn’t so much as glance in my direction as he says, “I do my research.” But then he does look at me, and something in his eyes glimmers. It makes my pulse race even before he adds, “And I remember the important things. You told me the night of the party that they worked here.”

He looks back at the doors as they close, leaving me here utterly flummoxed by that. That was seven years ago. How in the hell does he remember?—

“He’s the one who took you in when your parents died?” he recalls, snapping me out of my thoughts only to have them nosedive into insanity land as the elevator starts to shoot up.

“You have an amazing memory. I can’t believe you remember that about my uncle and stepmother.” My voice cuts into a gasp as the elevator makes a weird noise. I swear on all that is holy if this fucking elevator gets stuck again…

He shifts in beside me when he hears it, his hands reaching out for me as if he’s about to touch me, comfort me, only to catch himself and lower them to his sides. He’s far more in control with his restraint and protocol than I am right now because reflexively I grip his forearm before I’m even aware of the motion. My heart is racing too fast, my head is spinning, and I’m a half-beat from hyperventilating.

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