Page 5 of Doctor Charmer

“Th… thank you.” Her head plops back to the pillow as if it’s the last of her energy reserve. I’ve seen this dozens of times. People with so much on their shoulders, always on their guard, get to a place where they know those they care for are being taken care of. Only then do they allow themselves to relax.

I take a step back from the bed to give Nurse Jimenez space to wash the head wound. I cross my arms. “Let’s give this one the VIP treatment and get me updates on the students. It’s going to be a long night.”

Chapter Four

Ivy

“Think happy thoughts. You’re going to feel a little pressure.” He presses his thumb to my forehead, and a blinding light shoots through my head.

“Ouch.” I wince as he inspects the laceration with a practiced eye, the proximity sending a different kind of ache through me.Get it together, Ivy. You’re in a hospital. Yes, he’s ridiculously handsome, but your body is pumping gallons of adrenaline, which is why your emotions are all over the map.“If that’s your scale of a little, I must’ve been using the wrong scale all these years.”

“Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “It’s a nice cut. But it won’t ruin your beautiful face if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Trust me, the state of my face is the last thing on my mind right now,” I reply, brushing off the compliment but secretly pleased by it.

“Good,” he says, signaling for a nurse who arrives with sutures at the ready. She steps next to the bed, grabbing the instruments.“I got it.” She flashes him a look of surprise before taking a step back.

“I’m going to stitch you up, and I wouldn’t want vanity to be a distraction.” The nurse stands in the background, her hands in front of her looking out of place, and I get the sense she’s normally the suture queen.

My momentary flash of concern fades when I glance up into his eyes. His gaze is not on the top of my forehead where I’m injured, but at my face. A slow inspection that makes the nonexistent walls of the exam room close in. “Vanity?” I scoff lightly. “I’m more concerned with how this will affect my intimidating coach glare.” I flirt to deflect him from inspecting too closely. The quicker he completes this exam, the quicker I get to see the girls.

“Ah, I’m sure it’ll add character,” he assures me, his tone suggesting he’s enjoying this far too much.

“Character, huh? Well, in that case, do you have any sutures in red? It’ll make me look badass,” I challenge, earning a chuckle from him that rumbles deep in his chest.

“We’re not up in the pediatric ward. Black will have to do. Sorry to disappoint,” he teases back as he begins the procedure, his hands steady and surprisingly tender.

“Is that so?” I say, trying to focus on the banter instead of the slight sting. “And here I thought your specialty was charming women into submission.”

“Only the stubborn ones,” he says, locking eyes with me for a moment longer than necessary.

“Sounds like you’ve had practice,” I shoot back, feeling a spark igniting between us, warming me from the inside out. I’m used to being flirtatious. It’s part of my nature. But he’s keeping up with my every step.

“Maybe,” he concedes with a smirk, tying off the last stitch with a flourish. “But I must admit, you’re giving me a run for my money, Coach Springwood.”

“Call it a talent,” I reply, my heart skipping a beat when he smiles at me again. The air feels charged, full of something potent and brewing, like the dark roast coffee I favor—bold and rich with an undercurrent of sweetness. “And since you’re now covered in my blood, I think you can now call me Ivy.”

He pauses, giving me a look of appreciation, as if I’ve gifted him my most prized possession. “Reggie.” He clears his throat. “You can call me Reggie.” I don’t respond, focusing on the swirl of warmth in his blue-gray eyes.

His hands slow; he’s almost done, and I know I will miss his presence. “Cozy place you’ve got here.” My eyes scan the small sterile exam room. It’s all white and silver with everything within my view, either shiny metal or plastic. My eyes settle on the tray of metal instruments next to my head, now half covered in bloody gauze and torn sutures. “I see you’ve set out the good silverware for me.”

“Only the best for our most… headstrong visitors,” he counters without missing a beat. His index finger lingers as he admires his handiwork. This close, I notice the slight curl of the corner of his lips. He’s satisfied.

“Headstrong? Is that doctor speak for ‘has a hard head’?” My heartbeat is steady, and I attribute it to the man in front of me.

“Let’s just say your skull is as resilient as your spirit.” His thumb lifts my chin, and I stare up at him from a different angle. His focused, blue-gray eyes are as calm as his demeanor. He reaches into his lab coat and pulls out a pen light. “Look directly at me.”

“I bet this is your favorite part.” Two can play this game. I can flirt with the best of them. It’s one of my most favorite thingsto do. Pushing men out of the comfort zone they love to live in while doing the opposite to women.

His snicker is his only response. “Don’t look away.”

“That’s what she said.” And he loses it. This calm, cool, collected, and charming doctor loses his stuff. His hand freezes, a warm chuckle, soft and low, deep in his chest, fighting to escape. He takes a step back, his hand lowering as it shifts to a full-on laugh.

Laugh tears build in the corner of his eyes, and I give him my bestwhat did I sayshrug. He tries to avoid my gaze, turning to his staff. Both the technician and the nurse are biting their tongues so hard I fully expect them to be next on this exam table. They both stare at Dr. Morgan, and I’m not sure if their laughter is from what I said or his reaction. I suspect the latter.

He points a finger in my direction, his gaze locked on the nurse. “She started it.” His words cause the entire room to burst into laughter, each of their laughs feeding the next and the next.

“I could stay all night, but I’m playing a Bat Mitzvah later tonight. Don’t forget to tip your waitresses.”

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