Page 93 of Dr. Intern

“Nope,” she replies with a mumble as she swallows a cookie. “And as much as I love you two together, there are some days I want to avoid that fucker.”

“Tell me about it,” I chime in, giving her a conspiratorial wink.

Cass chews on her bottom lip, torn between staying to chat, and leaving us to search for my brother.

“Go on,” I urge her, waving my hand in the direction of the hallway. “Take Carol, and find brother dearest. Morg and I will handle the cookie distribution.”

Obviously, I have an alternative reason to stay, but I’m not telling them that.

Left with the majority of the cookie containers, Morgan and I make our way to the ER break room, handing out the pre-packaged sweets and making conversation along the way. Somehow, Morgan convinces her charge nurse to consider me for an externship in their department, which is basically like an internship for nurses. I didn’t even know that was a possibility, but the idea of getting more experience while I’m in school sounds incredible.

As I offer a cookie to a handsome police officer at the coffee machine, he squints at Morgan. “Why is it that you never seem to be working?”

“Work smarter, not harder,” she quips, abruptly grabbing my hand to whisk me away. “First rule of being a nurse: Never, ever, date anyone whose job title starts with the letter ‘P.’”

I wrack my brain for other professions that fall under that rule and come up short. “And who else does that include?”

“Policemen, for one,” she answers with a dramatic shudder. “They might be charming and kinky in bed, but then you discover that they’re secretly married with kids. Pass.”

I give a forced smile, acutely aware of the second policeman by the door who seems to have caught every word of Morgan’s candid summary.

“Then you have the Paramedics,” she continues, handing a cookie to one with a sly smile. His eyes linger on her tiny body as we walk away, practically salivating over the self-assured nurse. “Sure, they can place a damn good IV, but that’s pretty much where their expertise ends. Otherwise, they’re all bravado, yet bafflingly clueless when it comes to what a G-spot is.”

To be fair, I had no idea what that was until recently either.

“Got it,” I respond, appreciating her candor. “That’s all the P’s, right?”

“Nope. Still got two more. Firefighters are up next.”

I give her a skeptical look.

“It sounds like a P, grammar police,” she retorts playfully, making me laugh. “The firefighters are always going to be the hottest. But that’s because they spend all day sending naked pics to their endless queue of side pieces. Definitely a high-risk, high-reward scenario—I’d recommend a thorough health check if you take a ride on that truck.”

Morgan guides us toward the expansive central desk in the bustling ER, tossing her feet up as she gestures for me to take a seat next to her. I follow her lead and settle in comfortably, my gaze drifting to the elevator doors which promptly chime open.

Beau steps out, dressed in navy scrubs that cling to his stocky frame. He’s deep in conversation with a dark-haired man who somehow manages to outstretch even Beau’s considerable height.

Glancing to the side, Beau catches my eye and winks discretely before returning to his conversation. My heart races at the sight of him in his element, exuding control and confidence. Obviously, I’m already attracted to him when he’s relaxed and at home, but in this professional setting, he gives off a different kind of energy that makes a warm heat settle between my legs.

I watch unashamedly as Beau nods and claps the other man on the back, his golden brown waves peeking out of the edges of his scrub cap. It’s official—my panties are soaked.He can have a blowjob. He can have sex. He can have whatever hewants . . .as long as he has me.

“And then we have the physicians,” Morgan remarks, pulling me back to reality. Her face twists into a scowl as she watches Beau approach us. “The worst of all. If you’re going to hook up with any of the P’s, do not let it be a physician.”

“They’re not all that bad,” I retort, attempting to steady my erratic pulse.

“What’s not that bad?” Beau asks, his accent somehow more pronounced in this environment.

Morgan shoots him a glare. “Nice scrub cap.”

“Thanks,” he responds, completely unphased by her attitude. “Someone special got it for me for Christmas.”

His honey eyes lock onto mine, and I can feel my cheeks burning. He’s wearing the scrub cap I gave him last night, covered in little orange cats that look just like Frosty.

“Didn’t take you ortho bros for cat dads,” Morgan muses, crossing her arms as she looks up at him. “I would’ve assumed you preferred something more along the lines of a rottweiler.”

Beau leans on the desk’s edge, grinning down like he’s used to bantering with her. “And I assumed you were a pint-sized bundle of sunshine. Looks like we were both wrong.”

She cracks a smile, unable to help herself. “Where are my orders?”

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