Page 10 of Doctor Hot Mess

“Good,” he says, raising his coffee cup like a toast. “Because you deserve someone who brings you the whole damn lavish wedding—not just a slice of cake.”

I can’t help but smile, tapping my cup against his. “Agreed. Now, can we stop talking about your obsession with him and get back to my crazy night back at UAB?”

Mason’s eyes widen dramatically. “Oh, yes, do tell. Guns and blood? Please say it involved a dramatic faint. Preferably yours.”

“Not a chance,” I say, smirking. “But yes, guns, blood, and chaos. Listen to this: A guy storms into the ER, into the triage room I was cleaning up, pushing his brother in a wheelchair. There was blood everywhere, and he was waving a gun around like he’s in a bad action movie.”

Mason’s eyes go wide. “Gunsanda wheelchair? Oh, darling, that’s drama. Please tell me there was fainting.”

“Not unless you consider the guy bleeding out in the wheelchair, barely hanging onto life. He was bleeding out—gunshot to the abdomen. The older man grabs me, shoves the gun in my face, and demands I save him.”

Mason gasps, clutching his chest like he’s physically wounded. “The audacity! Grabbing my Harper like that? I hope you gave him a piece of your mind.”

“Ha. Funny. Not exactly,” I reply, shaking my head. “I didn’t really have time to lecture him while trying to stay alive and keep his brother from dying. I stalled, kept him calm, and ended up calling our friend Jonah to save the day. Somehow, Jonah managed to convince him to let us wheel the kid to surgery without shooting anyone.”

Mason leans forward, enthralled. “Oh, my bejesus! That is intense. I'm so glad you're okay! Where are they now?”

“As soon as we got the brother to the OR, the gunman took off. The cops showed up, of course, but by then, he was long gone. I'm guessing the younger one is handcuffed to a hospital bed in the ICU.”

He lets out a low whistle. “So, I guess he made it?”

I nod. “He’s alive. For now, at least. We got the bullet out and stopped the bleeding, but he’s not out of the woods yet.”

Mason shakes his head slowly, his tone a mix of awe and disbelief. “You really know how to make a splash, don’t you? Your first night back at UAB. Damn, Shazam, I like how you roll.”

I laugh despite myself. “Yeah, not exactly the warm welcome I was hoping for.”

“Well,” he says, raising his coffee cup, “here’s to you, my brave, badass bestie. May the rest of your time here be slightly less...eventful.”

I clink my cup against his, smiling. “I’ll drink to that.”

"I hate to do this, but I actually can't stay to eat today. I have a gym date with a new hottie. He didn't text me until right before I was heading out. I'm sure you understand!"

"Of course. I'll be here for at least three months. But you have to give me all the deets. And try to get a pic of him at the gym for me."

He drains his coffee and checks his phone.

Mine dings, and I pick it up to see a text from Jonah.

If you’re up for it, let’s meet for a walk later. You still owe me for not telling me you were back in town. And I owe you a coffee.

Mason’s eyes flick to the screen because, of course, he’s nosy like that. “And there he is. Serendipity, much?”

“Stop,” I mutter, typing back quickly.

I could use some fresh air and I'm hungry. How about a walk and an early lunch? On you.

Mason hums, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You’re playing with fire, Harper.”

“I’m managing a situation,” I correct. “And I’m getting a free meal out of it.”

“Sure, babe,” he says, winking. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

ChezFonfon

2007 11th Avenue South

12:02 PM

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