Page 22 of The Doctor's No-Strings Deal

“And what happens if you both win?”

Keith shrugged. “We split the pot.”

Charlie stopped walking and turned to give Keith the most scrutinizing stare he could manage at the moment. “So what happens if you both lose?”

Keith went quiet at that. It seemed he hadn’t really considered the answer.

“Who’s holding the money?” Charlie asked.

Keith bit his lip before he answered. “Amy is.”

And Charlie burst out laughing. It was a hearty laugh, nearly a whole-assed guffaw if he was honest. It was so unlike him he almost didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice. He slapped Keith on the shoulder and announced, “You got played, my friend. Ha! Tell Amy she has my respect.”

He left Keith to wallow in his own gullibility, knowing full well it probably didn’t matter whether the bet was a win or a loss. Amy never intended to give that money back. She must have caught Keith off guard when he was drunk, or maybe the next morning when he was hungover and focused on getting rid of his headache. The whole ordeal was delightful however it had played out, and it saved Charlie from looking suspicious when he failed to answer the question the bet was about.

Charlie met his solo patient feeling better than he had all day. An older man sat at the edge of the examination table dressed in a hospital gown and rubbing his arms. He was clearly cold. Charlie tried to imagine what Megan would do. Now that no one was watching him, he could let down his guard, forget about his pride for a minute, and truly work on his bedside manner. He really did want to be a good doctor, and he knew that included making his patients feel cared for. Hope was always good medicine. This was something he’d learned early on. Andno matter how much he pretended not to care, the truth was, he admired Megan’s way with patients, and he wanted to learn from her.

“Hello there, Mr. Stacy. You’re looking a little chilly today. Are you cold?” It felt fake, but the patient nodded, and Charlie went to the nurse’s station to collect a blanket for him. He brought it back and handed it to the gentleman. “No sense in sitting in the cold while I’m not examining you, right?”

The patient answered his questions and allowed himself to be examined when he needed to. He showed Charlie a mark on his arm that looked nicely rounded and red. “Is it cancer, doc?”

Charlie smiled and shook his head. So many people jumped straight to cancer that it seemed like half his job was going to be convincing patients they weren’t, in fact, dying. “I believe we’re looking at a little ringworm here.”

“A worm?” The patient looked almost as horrified as he would if he’d been told he did have cancer.

“It’s not really a worm, Mr. Stacy. It’s a fungus, usually comes from indoor sports mats or handling stray cats. A little antifungal cream and you’ll be good as new.”

The old man sighed. “Ah, that’s a relief, doc. Thank you.”

“No problem at all. Now, we do need to talk a bit about your blood pressure. It’s a little high.”

“Always is when I go to the hospital,” the man assured him. “I have the old white coat anxiety, you know.” He scratched the gray stubble on his chin. “You seem nice, though. You seem like a trustworthy fellow.”

Charlie forced another smile, but found it was a touch easier the second time around. “Well, thank you kindly, Mr. Stacy. That means a lot.” He thought a moment, despising the very idea of vulnerability, but he decided to risk it. “I’ve been told my bedside manner leaves something to be desired, but I’m trying to work on it.”

“Balderdash!” Mr. Stacy said, waving Charlies concerns away. “I think you’re doing just fine. Are you a new resident, then?”

“I am. About a month in to be exact. It sounds like you’re a regular here.” Charlie made an effort to keep up the chitchat while he filled in his patient’s file.

“Well, when you get old like me, that starts to happen.” The old man laughed. “You go from bars to diners to hospitals. And they all get to know your name. I’ll put in a good word for you, son. Don’t you worry. Your bedside manner is top notch, I say.” The patient stood and gave Charlie a pat on the arm.

“You’ll have to tell that to my competition. She’s convinced I’m a monster, but I can’t deny she has a talent for working with people.” He paused and considered the truth of what he was about to admit. “I think I could learn a thing or two from her, to be honest.” Then he leaned in to whisper, “But don’t tell her I said that. I’ll never live it down.”

“Looking to impress the girl, are you?” Mr. Stacy gave Charlie a quick wink and started to get dressed. Charlie wanted to tell him he could wait until the doctor had left, but the old man seemed indifferent either way.

Anyway, he’d given Charlie something to consider. Was it really Megan he was looking to impress? The concept of making someone else proud was not new to Charlie. He’d spent most ofhis life trying to impress his own father and brother, but he’d never found himself interested in impressing someone outside his immediate family or those who could have an impact on his career. Showing off in front of your attending was one thing. Worrying about what a fellow resident thought of you was something else entirely. It felt like a weakness, but somehow, Charlie didn’t really mind.

The way he started to look at it, Megan was good in an area he could stand to improve in. Looking to her as an example of how to put patients at ease — learning from her, in other words — was no different than asking a superior student to be your study partner in college. As long as the end goal was to outmatch that study partner, there was no shame in taking note of their strengths and using them to your advantage. That’s what he was doing, of course. He was using Megan to his own advantage.

“You’re falling for her, aren’t you?” the old man said under his breath.

Charlie snapped out of his distracted thoughts and looked up at his patient. He’d been sitting on a stool in front of the computer, mindlessly entering information when his patient had dropped that bombshell on him. He automatically shook his head. “Impossible.”

Mr. Stacy was carefully buttoning his shirt with his arthritic hands. “Listen, young man. I’ve been around the block a few times when it comes to love, and I can see it from miles away. You may be the expert on fungal infections, but I’m the expert in matters of the heart. You’re falling for this competition of yours.” He smiled to himself and gave a quiet chuckle. “The heat between you must be intense. Competition can really bring out the intensity in any relationship.”

Relationship? Ridiculous. “We don’t quite have a relationship between us,” Charlie said. “It’s more like a war.” He laughed.

“All the better for that intensity.” Mr. Stacy finished buckling his belt and patted Charlie on the arm one more time. “You’re in denial, kid, but your eyes get that far-off look when you talk about this girl of yours. I know that look. Used to get it myself whenever I talked about my late wife. It’s different from plain old attraction because it includes a certain level of respect. You admire and respect the woman. You’re attracted to her. You enjoy her company, even if it’s war, to use your own words. That adds up. Believe me. That adds up to love.”

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