Page 13 of Doctor Enemy

“I’m not joking,” Cara says, shrugging. “The tension between these two?” She gestures at me with one hand, and the hallway with the other. “It’s so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Or break out the camcorder and make a super steamy film.”

Olivia’s whole face turns bright red. “Gross.”

“Olivia’s right,” I repeat, despite the fact that maybe I have thought about Lockwood once or twice. But purely from an aesthetic standpoint! He’s so full of himself, I could never go for a guy like that.

Cara shrugs. “Then you both have awful taste, I don’t know what else to say.” She flashes me a smile. “Oh wait, yes I do.” Her voice turns to a sing-song. “Someone’s lying about their taste in men!”

“Kurt’s old enough to be her father,” protests Olivia. Her nose is wrinkled up in distaste just at the thought of having something with someone that’s got such a big age jump. “What is he, fifty?”

“Forty-five,” corrects Cara.

Clearly, she’s done some fairly close work with him. I’ve read something about how Lockwood and Cara were both on the same research team that helped create the treatment for Margur’s disease.

It was a massively big deal. It still is actually. “Which totally isn’t that old. I know guys with ten years on him that are stillexactlywho you want to bring home for a really fun time. And I’m just saying, doing something naughty with Lockwood might be enough to, you know, break the tension some.”

Olivia goes so far as sticking out her tongue and making a face. “You couldn’t pay me enough to sleep with someone that old.”

“It’s not like he’s a white-haired grandpa,” says Cara. “I bet he would be pretty good in bed. I mean, he’s got a Shelby GT, right? And you know what they say about men with fast cars...”

I roll my eyes and lift up my paper cup of coffee. It’s almost too hot against the palm of my hand.

“Uh-huh. The two of you can stay in here and spend the wee hours figuring out whether he’s a hot, eligible bachelor or not. I’m going to speak with the nurses about taking me off double shifts for a while. Lockwood’s not in my department, so he shouldn’t have a say over whether I want extra hours or not.”

“Have fun talking about Kurt some more,” teases Cara, wiggling her fingers at me. “Maybe the nurse will share a story or two about him with you!”

I leave without even acknowledging the comment, stepping out into the hallway and heading for the nurses’ station.

Whatever this is, it stops now.

Chapter five

Kurt

Theendofthemonth can’t come fast enough.

While I’m prone to spending any Saturday night that I'm not at the hospital out drinking, the last Saturday of the month is a special occasion. No matter what else is going on, Nate and I always go out for a drink on that day.

We always go to the same place: The Crow’s Nest. It’s a small bar on the far side of town. Literally, the first time we started our end-of-the-month drinking session, our main criteria was to find a place that was nowhere near Mercy General. I wanted something with a cute bartender, and Nate wanted something lowkey.

The Crow’s Nest fit all three.

And since we’ve been coming here once a month for almost seven years now, it’s become a part of our life. That means the fact it’s low-profile, dark, and a little worn down doesn’t bother me.

The cute blond that was bartending seven years ago has left, replaced with a burly man that looks like he spends all of his free time on the back of a motorcycle. His name is Seth, and he’s actually a pretty nice guy.

Nate’s already in the bar waiting for me, a beer in hand. He’s still in his work clothes. I wince. “Well, someone’s had a bad day.”

“Emma sent me an email,” says Nate, turning to look at me. “You know, an email.”

He stresses the word the second time around. I slide onto the barstool beside him and wave at Seth. A moment later, my usual IPA is slid in front of me. “Like, a nasty email, or a feisty one?”

I keep a spare change of clothes in my office at the hospital. I don’t always change into them when I get off at the end of the day, but it just never feels right coming to The Crow’s Nest in scrubs. Well-fitted jeans and a flannel feel like a better choice.

“Like the kind that was filled with pictures,” says Nate, giving me a sideways look. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with her.”

I could give him a long list off the top of my head. In fact, other than being an okay mother, I can’t think of anything positive about her.

“You deleted it, right?” I ask, though I already know the answer to that. It’s the same answer that he always gives me when his ex-wife starts trying to get his attention.

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