Page 7 of Baby for Dr. Damaged

She finally starts to cheer up, which means that I’m able to go make arrangements with her nanny. Sandra is going to put in a call to Ronda, who only works nights, and will make sure that someone is around to take care of Bonnie until I get back home.

I hate always having to run off like this, but I try to make up for it in other ways. Bonnie is given all of the best when it comes to her care—the best nannies, the best food, the best clothes. I might not always be physically around, but I’ve gone out of my way to make sure that doesn’t feel she’s ever lacking love.

Still, the sight of her face peeking out of the curtain as I back out of the driveway is enough to break my heart. Always has been. Always will be.

They had better at least find someone else to work with me. I don’t want to run the whole ward on my own tonight.

It’s a long enough drive that I’ve really stirred myself into a foul mood by the time that I get back to Mercy General. Night has fully fallen over Seattle, though the bright lights of the hospital negate that. Glenda knows better than to even glance in my direction, and most of the first- and second-year doctors veer out of my way.

I’m determined to have a cup of fresh coffee before I curb my temper back into something more professional, so I storm into the doctors’ lounge and over to the single-serve coffee maker. While I’m waiting for it to brew, someone taps on my shoulder.

I snap, “Try again in four minutes. I’m not working yet.”

A familiar laugh grounds me. It’s Amanda. When I turn to give her an apologetic look, she’s smiling.

“You know, that was exactly what I had planned to do.”

“I didn’t realize that they called you in too,” I say, a little abashed. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, I’m sorry.”

I’m impressed she came back. Some residents won’t. It never looks good for them.

“It’s fine. I’m pretty sure that everyone here has had to rush back in.” She rakes a hand through her wavy blonde hair, which hasn’t yet been put up into its normal top knot. It’s been two weeks since she started shadowing me, and during this time, she has proven to be incredibly competent, and one of the hardest working residents I’ve ever had the pleasure of being around.

I nod. “I hadn’t even taken off my scrubs.”

Amanda laughs. “You can see that I didn’t get time to do anything before coming in. I look like a hot mess.”

From the couch, one of the other doctors, Arnold Haynes, twists around and gives Amanda a blatant, full look up and down. “I don’t know too much about the mess part, but I won’t argue with the start of it.”

Amanda flushes, the red a dark stain over her skin. It goes straight from her cheeks to her knuckles. I’m certain that the blush goes all the way down, staining her breasts and flushing over the tops of her thighs, too.

We’ve been flirting on and off since she started working here, but it hasn’t been anything serious. She’s smart, capable, beautiful—who wouldn’t want to flirt with her? Still, I’m surprised by how absolutely furious that comment makes me. It’s like someone’s just flipped the switch in me.

And sure, I was already not in the greatest moods, but still.

Amanda looks too uncertain to respond, clearly not wanting to risk telling off a doctor and causing an issue that’s going to be long-lasting for her time at the hospital.

I, on the other hand, don’t have that issue.

Sharply, I demand, “What was that?”

Arnold stares at me. Just stares, like he can’t believe I said something.

“I’m surprised at how unprofessional you just were, Haynes,” I continue, though I’m really not surprised at all. Arnold’s barely cresting thirty and he acts like he’s still in med school most days. I’ve never liked him before and, after tonight, I don’t see that changing.

Arnold keeps staring at me and it only irritates me further. An apology to Amanda should have been his response by now.

“Do you think that’s anywhere near being in the realm of appropriate? How would you like it if every time you came in here, I commented on your package.”

At that last comment, he looks mortified. Amanda barely covers her snort with her palm and ducks her head a little. It makes her look abashed and upset from behind, but I can see the way her eyes are glittering with mirth at my comment.

“And we’re understaffed. You have work to be doing elsewhere,” I tell him, leaving no room for argument in my words.

Arnold starts to protest anyway, and then thinks better of it. He hauls himself off the couch and vanishes from the room, leaving just myself and Amanda in the doctors’ lounge together.

She straightens up some and says, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“He needs to get his head out of his ass and stop thinking with his dick.” I turn back to finish brewing my coffee. It splashes into the paper cup with a hiss, the rich scent of dark roast filling the room. “That’s no way to act with a fellow doctor.”

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