Page 69 of Last Chance Love

“You’ll have to take that up with Mona,” she snorted. “Mostly, it’s just follow-ups, barring any disasters.”

I groaned. “C’mon, don’t jinx it. What, are you going to say it’s quiet in here today?”

“You,” she said, jabbing a finger at me, “shut your mouth before you actually curse us.”

“Oh sure, you can play with fire, but the minute I even hint at it, I’m suddenly the bad guy.”

“Do not utter those cursed words.”

“Sure, sure.”

She glared at me for a minute before setting her tablet down. “There’s some fruit in the back fridge in case you forgot to eat breakfast…again.”

“Me? Never,” I said, sighing when my stomach chose that exact moment to sing its song, announcing the lie for what it was.

“Uh-huh, nibble on something. If one of us collapses because they didn’t eat, imagine how that would look,” she said. “I’d better not find you looking like you’re going to drop later.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said with a snort.

“I’m going to grab a nap,” she told me. “I’ve been manning things all night and can’t wait until my shift ends. Your morning should be calm, there’s only the computer for you to do. Wake me if someone comes in with their insides on the outside.”

“Dying, dismembered, or on fire,” I repeated, remembering the mantra she’d given to me on the first day in the clinic. Not that I’d needed to be told. I knew full well what a few power naps could do for you when you were being run all over the place.

That was enough for her, and she left with only a glance toward me, a slight smirk on her face. I was sure she would take the final exam room at the end of the hallway, the customary place for the doctors to nap when they were on shift. Dr. Gideon generally fell asleep wherever he sat down. He claimed it was because, at his age, sleep was elusive, but I wasn’t sold on it.

I sat at the desk and loaded the program to start reviewing things. It was sorely tempting to dig up some of the inventories I’d done, but not everything would be available to me. At least half of the things I dealt with had to be signed off by the doctors, who were the only ones who could access that information.

So, instead, I focused on the stuff I was supposed to be doing and tried to push the problem out of my head. There was no point obsessing, even if I considered myself meticulous. Past mistakes weren’t something I could fix, but I could make sure I didn’t repeat them in the future.

Most of the work involved going through today's patients' files and trimming up the ones from the past few days. The clinic's record-keeping was as detailed as…well, actually, it was more stringent than the hospital I’d worked at. It was probably a case of needing to stay on top of things to avoid potential legal issues since the ranch operated on a razor’s edge thinner than most hospitals.

The sound of the doors whooshing open wasn’t enough to pull me out of the zone as I tapped away. Unlike many of my colleagues at the hospital, I had always been fond of paperwork. It was soothing to pour over the minutiae rather than face the perilous and nerve-wracking demands of trying to save a life. It was a way for me to turn my brain off and find a comforting zone of silence.

The final check on the file I was working on became hazy, my eyes stuttering over the words as a rich smell filled my nostrils. It was meaty, reeking of salt and fat, and the sweet scent of sugar followed it. My stomach rumbled, reminding me what I had neglected this morning.

I finally looked up, blinking, when I found Leon standing there, watching me with a smirk. My eyes were drawn to the container on the counter beside me, and I looked back up toward Leon, who continued to look smug.

“Really?” I asked with a sigh.

He shrugged. “Well, I thought you might need some breakfast.”

“And what makes you think I didn’t eat?” I asked him wryly.

He flipped open one of the containers, where I could see thick strips of bacon lying beside steaming flapjacks. I watched as he took a huge pat of butter and dropped it on the pile, drizzling the warmed syrup over the cakes and bacon. The smell filled my nostrils, and my stomach made its loudest rumble yet.

“That’s cheating,” I informed the overly smug man on the other side of the counter.

“You were always terrible at eating in the mornings,” he said with a laugh. “And the number of times I came in here over the past few years on your morning shifts and heard your stomach complaining are…well, I lost count.”

I sighed. “So, this is what that feels like.”

“Having someone know you well enough to know your bad habits and be able to call you out?” he asked, pushing the container toward me. “Because, yeah, that’s what this feels like.”

“I’ll forgive you because this smells absolutely amazing,” I told him, knowing that would make him even more smug. Sure enough, he grinned as he held out silverware in one hand and a Styrofoam cup in the other.

I took both, opening the lid to find orange juice with plenty of pulp. Of course, he remembered how much I enjoyed the high-pulp orange juice. He’d always joked that I enjoyed chewing my juice. The food was fresh and hot as I munched through the cakes and shoveled some bacon into my mouth. The salty and sweet combination had me ravenous because, of course, I didn’t realize how hungry I was until the food was in my mouth.

“Maybe you should stop going without breakfast,” Leon said slowly. “Because there’s hungry and then there’s this Oliver Twist thing you have going on.”

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