Page 33 of Doctor Second Chance

Even in simple jeans and a cotton shirt, she exudes an elegance that makes my heart race. Her injured hand is still bandaged, held in a sling in front of her, but it doesn't diminish her poise one bit.

I can't tear my eyes away. The way she carries herself, confident yet vulnerable, strikes a chord deep within me. Her lips curve into a slight smile as she speaks to the receptionist, and I find myself aching to be the cause of that smile.

My body reacts viscerally to her presence. My pulse quickens, palms grow damp. The mere sight of her sends electricity coursing through my veins. I inhale sharply, catching a faint whiff of her perfume even from a safe distance. It's intoxicating, flooding my senses with memories of last night.

I want to step out, call her name, and feel her in my arms again. But I remain rooted to the spot, drinking in every detail of her in secret. God, I’ve become such a weirdo.

The curve of her neck, the sway of her hips, the way her eyes light up as she laughs at something the nurse says. I guess I can take it as a compliment—she seems to be in a good mood today. Maybe our extracurricular activities last night gave her a boost of serotonin.

It's more than just physical attraction. Seeing Elle like this, so vibrant and alive, stirs something profound within me—a longing that could be dangerous but an instinct I may not be able to fight.

I'm so lost in thought watching Elle that I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel a sharp pinch on my ass. Whirling around, I come face to face with Buster's mischievous grin.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Buster waggles his eyebrows. "Caught you red-handed, Duncan. Who's the hottie you’re peeping on?"

I roll my eyes, trying to play it cool. "Just a patient, Buster. Nothing to see here."

"Oh please," he scoffs. "I know that look. You were practically drooling. Spill it, Romeo."

I sigh, knowing Buster won't let up. "Fine. She's... an ex. From college. And yes, she's a patient here.” I think he can read it on my face, but I hope not. Telling Buster we slept together last night would be like handing him my head on a stake.

Buster's eyes light up like it's Christmas morning. "No way! The one that got away? Man, fate's a funny thing, huh?"

"Yeah, hilarious," I mutter, not in the mood for his teasing.

"So, you gonna make a move or what?" Buster nudges me with his elbow. "Grab a beer with me after work. We'll strategize."

I shake my head. "Can't. Still haven't heard from Ari, gotta get home to Opie."

“She never showed, huh? I totally thought you were feeding me a line because you didn’t want to get off your sofa,” Buster nods. "Alright, but don't think you're off the hook. I’m still waiting for that raincheck from the other night. I demand details about this chick next time I see you!"

As we part ways, Buster can't resist one last jab. “Make sure you use protection, Loverboy!”

I flip him a discreet bird. He annoys the shit out of me, but I also love him. I wonder if he will ever grow up, and then I realize I hope not. Everyone needs a naughty Peter Pan friend in his life.

I watch him saunter off, grateful he doesn't know the half of it. If he knew Elle was staying at my place... I'd never hear the end of it.

I approach the reception desk, the reason I made my way down here in the first place, once Elle has moved on to wherever she was headed. Focus, Duncan. You're here for information, not to turn into a puddle over the delicious piece of ass last night.

"Hey, Angie," I greet the receptionist. "Any updates on the rehab situation?"

Angie looks up from her computer, her brow furrowed. "Dr. Duncan, hi. The last update from maintenance is that it’s still a mess. The damage from the burst pipe was more extensive than we initially thought."

I lean against the counter, trying to appear casual. "How long are we looking at before it's operational again?"

She sighs, shaking her head. "Best case scenario? Two weeks. Worst case? It could be a month or more. They're still assessing the damage to the electrical systems. They want to make sure there are no mold concerns once everything is said and done. The last thing we need is to put healing patients in there and expose them to dangerous mold.”

“No, of course.”

My stomach drops. It looks like I’ll be having Elle stay with me for the long haul. Not that I mind, but I should at least have an idea of what we are dealing with here.

"Any word on when patients might be transferred back?" I ask, hoping for better news.

"We're working on it, but it’s been slow going with the holiday weekend. Most facilities are at capacity." Angie types something into her computer. "We're prioritizing based on medical need, but it will take time to place everyone."

I nod, processing this information. Part of me is relieved—more time with Elle. But part of me is sounding the alarm that this is a recipe for disaster.

"Thanks, Angie. Will you notify Marijka if anything changes? I have a few patients impacted and want to stay on top of it,” I lie. Elizabeth, my only patient there, was transferred to a facility closer to her home in Mountainbrook. Elle is my only other “patient.” But Tammy doesn’t need to know that.

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