Page 5 of Baby for Dr. Damaged

“I don’t think that Amanda here is looking for things to be Hallmark safe,” says Carter, when he finally rejoins us, sans his soda. “I think that she’s looking for things to be more, uh, what is it? HBO wild? You know, like most people who are into someone.”

Cara nods. “HBO wild, I like that.”

I groan again, louder this time, and hope that if I just stop taking part in the conversation, they’ll take the hint and stop discussing it.

They don’t.

Carter says, “I mean, there’s a chance, right?”

“There’s literally no chance,” I say. “For one, I’m trying to get on as a doctor here. I don’t want to act silly around the guy, just because I think he’s cute.”

Cara teases, “Just cute?”

I scowl at her. So what if I like his deep grey eyes, his strong jaw, and his steady hands? Who wouldn’t?

“I think you could at least go with handsome.”

“Or hot,” provides Carter.

Cara nods. “A stud.” Then after a pause. “An older stud. A really hot, tall, older stud.”

“Enough, enough,” I say, waving my hands when Carter opens his mouth to keep talking. “No more, I can’t take it.”

“You’re smiling now,” says Cara.

Carter adds on, “And blushing.”

I scrub my cheeks like I might be able to physically wipe the heat away. Instead, I realize that even the backs of my knuckles are a dusty sort of pink, and that makes me even more embarrassed. I’ve got chronically pale skin, the sort that turns cherry red if I so much as step outside in June without a gallon of sunscreen on. Blush in particular pops out like I’ve got paint spilled on me.

I try to shove my hands under my legs, but it’s too late. The spill has been spotted.

Cara gives my cheeks a pinch. “I think that it’s cute.”

“I mean, if you haven’t made yourself look like a fool in front of Jackson before today, you probably won’t? You know how to act around the guy,” says Carter in an effort to make me feel better.

Cara seems deep in thought for a moment and then lights up. “You should go for it.”

I snap around to look at her. “What?”

“I mean it! He’s single, you’re single. I think that you would make a cute couple.”

“You just like getting involved in other people’s romantic lives,” chides Carter. “Don’t listen to her. She spent literally all of med school trying to hook me up with someone. If it wasn’t Jill one week, it was Jack the next.”

“And I still don’t know what your type is,” says Cara, with a pout. Her lower lip even wobbles. She looks like the kind of woman that would be able to pull off some great puppy dog eyes.

Carter, however, is totally immune to her. “The best advice that I can give you is pretty much to just never let her know anything about who you’re dating.”

“Does that mean you’re dating someone?” Cara asks more interested than ever.

Carter tilts the can toward her. “See what I mean?”

The conversation thankfully shifts away from my long sporting crush on Jackson and onto the mysterious and possibly not even real ‘date’ that Carter’s got. I’m glad to join in, heckling him the same way that he had been heckling me just a few moments ago.

It’s a good distraction from, well, everything.

Carter takes it like a champ, protesting just enough to make it fun, and by the time we have to get back out onto the floor, we’re all in a much better mood. And I’m grateful that I seem to have hit it off with a few of the other residents.

Still, for the rest of the shift, it’s hard not to think about what Cara said about just going for it.

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