Page 9 of Doctor Enemy

“Lori.” I force myself to stare at her face, and not her exposed cleavage.

“You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that?” I shove the papers back at her, save the ones that I need to fill out as the doctor who called TOD.

“Fine. You want the papers so badly, you fill them out. At some point, you’ll have to stop acting like a child and find a new way to look at life. Whatever has you so bent out of shape? It needs to get fucking unbent.”

“Maybe you should try and learn how to accept that you aren’t the only one in this hospital with a degree,” Lori counters. She snatches up the papers, our fingers brushing in the process. “Other people know what they are doing, too!”

“I’ve been doing this a hell of a lot longer than you. That means I’m going toknowmore than you.”

“Outdated information,” says Lori. Her voice threatens to crack.

Even when she’s angry, she’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. Her cheeks are just slightly red, and her nose is scrunched up in a way that’s meant to be intimidating but I just think is cute.

“You have the papers, you fill them out,” I say. There’s no hint of my admiration toward her in the tone of my voice. “And get out of my office. You know, the one that I’ve gotten through myoutdated degree.”

“You’ve only got this office because your daddy bought it for you,” Lori says, bitterness drenching each word. Her eyes are sparkling with tears.

“And all of the residents know it.” She straightens up, pulling the papers against her chest.

The fact that she's got about three stuffed animals hooked to her wrist via scrunchie lessens the sharpness of the motion. It’s impossible to look at her and not think about the fact that we just lost a kid. “Don’t act like you’re some hot-shot surgeon that’s changing the world.”

“If this is how you’re going to act every time you lose a patient, then you might want to consider a different career. You can do that outside of my office, too. Out, now,” I say, jabbing a finger toward the door.

I know that it’s hard for doctors when they lose patients, especially in the first years, but there’s no reason for her to be taking it out on me. “And make sure you have those papers back to Maddie by the end of the hour since you’re so determined to do it yourself.”

Lori gives me one more beautiful, scathing look and then turns on her heel and storms out of the room, slamming the door just as hard. The framed degree on the wall next to it slides sideways. I drop my head into my hands and groan.

God damn, dealing with the residents can be a challenge at times.

I try to tell myself that it’s fine.

It doesn’t matter if Lori Lange likes me or not, because I’m the head of the neurosurgery department, and she’s a pediatric surgery resident. Our paths aren’t going to cross that often.

When they do, I have senior ranking over her, whether she likes it or not.

It’s just–fuck, part of mewantsLori to like me. Or at least, a part of me would love it if she didn’t flat out hate me. I can’t help it. I like women with a fiery personality and a hot streak. They’re always the most fun to hang out with.

But Lori is determined to find every reason that she can to hate me. I came from money. I came from a line of established surgeons. I did too much work. I didn’t do enough work. Fuck if I knew what the real problem was, but–well, one of these days, I would like to figure it out.

Not right now, though.

Right now, I gather up my papers, loading them into my briefcase, and put a call in to the front desk; my shift ends in the next hour and a half. I’m just going to head home early.

It’s Maddie who picks it up. After I tell her my plans, she says, “I’ll call you if anything comes up.”

“If it’s Blake, tell him he can wait until the morning.” I tuck the cell phone between my shoulder and my ear, grab my briefcase, and step out into the hallway.

It’s early enough that the fourth floor is almost fully empty.

“And if Glenda needs me, tell her to call someone else,” I continue, starting toward the elevator. “Lori wants all that extra work, I’m sure she would love to come back in.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious, or if you’re just being mean,” says Maddie.

I think on it for a moment and then confidently tell her, “Both. It’s both.”

“Alright,” says Maddie. “Are you okay, Kurt?”

“Nothing a good morning’s sleep can’t fix,” I promise her, and then hang up.

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