Page 50 of Doctor Charmer

Me.

All I have to do is have Coach Flirt-a-lot make one last appearance. After tonight, I can retire her and become Coach Scored a Doctor or something like that. I’ll have to work on the name. I’ll figure it out tomorrow. I pull out my phone and flip open the camera app, selfie mode, and check out my makeup.

The door swings open, and a tall, young technician pushes in a cart filled with equipment. I paint on a smile and shift my focus from my condition to the task in front of me. “Wow, what do they have in the water here in Eastport? Everyone here is so handsome.”

He drops the pen in his hand, a goofy grin on his face. I give him a wink and cross my legs. Coach Flirt-a-lot fully activated.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Reggie

“Why am I here, Dr. Morgan?” A very pissed off Sarah Longo is standing in front of the diner booth where I’m sitting. She’s eight texts and ten minutes late. Angie couldn’t convince her to come to the diner, so I pulled out the boss card. Even then, it took too much convincing. Too much time. It’s nearly six o’clock, and it’s only by some miracle that Sarah arrived before Ivy and Dr. Harriman.

“Take a seat.” I don’t address her question, not after she ignored my phone calls and text. “I’m tired of playing games with you, Sarah. It all stops today.”

She slams her rear onto the leather seat of the booth and scoots over, keeping a respectable distance between us. We’re in a corner booth, one I arrived at nearly an hour ago. From here, we can monitor the rest of the cafe.

“That’s not the only thing stopping today.” She gives me side-eye, which lets me know the hospital rumor mill is working overtime. Sarah is usually a quiet mouse. But this is the one topicthat always has her extracting her fangs. “Don’t you dare ever threaten me again, or I’ll report you to—”

“HR?” I scoff at the irony. “Please do, and while we’re there, we can tell them exactly what I’ve threatened you with.”

She slams her arms across her chest, defeated. “I’ve never once asked you for any of this.”

I inhale and remind myself why I’m here. “I’m just trying to help. I’m not the enemy.”

From my vantage point, I see the door to the diner opening. Ivy steps in, whipping off her winter coat. She’s wearing a pink sweater and a black pencil skirt that hugs her precious hips. She left my condo wearing a sweat suit, claiming she’d change at the hospital. She must’ve known I never would have let her leave my place to meet with Dr. Harriman wearing what I’m seeing.

She turns, finding a hook on the rack by the door. She whips her neck, her hand adjusting those magnificent curls around her ear, and her face lights up in a brilliant smile. She’s a breathtaking beauty. I follow her gaze.

Bile and anger flood my chest when I see who she’s gifted with this smile. Dr. Harriman. He places his cigar fingers on a place it should never go, her lower back. He points toward a table near the window. Of course, he wants to show off the prize on his arm.

“I’m not the enemy,” I repeat for Sarah’s benefit. I quirk my brow and tip my chin, drawing her attention to the other side of the diner. “He is.”

“What is…” she mutters, and I don’t respond. My focus is on the loud schoolgirl giggle from Ivy as Dr. Harriman whispers something in her ear.

I remind the green monster in me that this is part of the plan. It’s not real.

One glance over at Sarah, and I know she doesn’t share the same perspective.

“Why is he here? Who is he with? That’s not his wife.” She fires the questions rapidly with the indignation of a woman scorned. A part of me feared this wouldn’t be her reaction. After three years together, she might have figured out Dr. Harriman is only as faithful as his options.

I lean back in the booth to avoid being inadvertently stabbed by the daggers shooting out Sarah’s eyes. The picture in front of her is as clear as a bright, sunny day on a gorgeous lake and screams more than a thousand words.

The waitress appears in front of us, momentarily blocking our view. Sarah cranes her neck around her to continue to torture herself.

“What’ll you have besides the coffee?” the waitress asks, nodding toward the coffee she’s refilled already twice while I waited for Sarah’s arrival.

“We’ll both have the breakfast egg special.”

“It’s dinnertime, and I just lost my appetite,” Sarah protests. I pick up the untouched menu from in front of her, sliding it next to mine, handing both to the waitress.

“Two egg specials, and bring her a coffee, light cream on the side, three sugars.”

The waitress disappears, and I spot Ivy. She’s nuzzled next to Dr. Harriman, both sitting on the same side of a two-person table like they’re newlyweds. Their thighs are touching, his hand on the top of her knee. I twist to see Sarah’s reaction and draw back when I find her staring at me.

A glisten of water building in her eyes cracks a piece of me. As a doctor, sometimes we must administer pain in order for the healing to begin. “I’m sorry.”

Her headshake lets me know I’m reading her reaction wrong. “You know how I take my coffee?”

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