Page 4 of Wolfgang

“Sure thing.” Eric forced an equal amount of friendly enthusiasm into his own voice. “On my way.”

Two minutes later, his coffee was drained and he was trudging down to the ER, taking the stairs this time because he had to get in the exercise when he could these days. Sitting on his ass was harder to get away with after hitting thirty-seven; that was for sure. He could just imagine his mother at the next holiday, poking his stomach and asking when he’d added the spare tire.

She’d do it too.

So stairs it was.

He found Chloe, the night charge, at the nurse’s station. Eric did a little double-take at the sight of her, wondering for just a second if he’d gotten confused and it was actually four in the morning instead of four in the afternoon. “What are you doing here in daylight hours?”

Chloe sighed dramatically, her eyes on the computer. “They begged me to come in early, and I caved. Don’t remind me. But anyway—” She pointed to a bay, still not looking at him. “Tag, you’re it.”

Monroe rested his elbows on the counter and leaned in, delaying the inevitable in his very favorite way: mindless flirting. They hadn’t called a code, so he probably had the time. “Chloe, darling. Have you left that husband of yours yet?”

“As if I wouldever,” she scoffed, typing furiously.

“Shame.” Eric tapped a finger on the counter. “I wanted to nab Marcus for myself. I’d be eating that man’s banana bread for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Twenty-fourseven.”

That finally had her lifting her gaze, a small smirk gracing her lips. “I can’t tell if you’re being weirdly sexual or talking about his actual baked goods.”

Eric grinned, pleased he finally had her attention. “Ifeelweirdly sexual about his baked goods; I can tell you that.”

“Stop trying to poach my husband,” she ordered with mock severity.

“I’ll stop trying to poach him when he stops looking so damn fine.”

She cocked a brow at him, pursing her lips. “I know what you’re doing.”

Eric straightened his spine, not at all chastised but aware his time was up. “Fine. Bay twelve, you said?”

“That’s the one. We’re thinking septic shock. Blood cultures were positive, and his pressures tanked the minute he walked through the door.”

“You already got the drips started?”

“Well, duh. He hasn’t coded yet, has he?”

“Intubated?” Technically, he should be in the patient’s chart or hounding the ER doctor for these details, but he knew Chloe would have the same answers. Woman ran a tight ship.

“No. But you’d know that if you just…you know, actually went in there yourself.”

Eric gave her a salute, just because. “You’re the best. You can keep your husband. For now.”

She gave him an ironic nod of thanks, already back to typing away.

“I’ll put in the transfer orders so you can get him to the ICU, free up a bed for the next one.”

“Oh, joy.”

He walked away from the desk, his mood just a touch brighter than it had been five minutes ago. Chloe was one of the few people who actuallylikedEric at this hospital, at least as far has he could tell. Not just as a doctor but as a person. That was probably due to the fact that she’d already been married when he started there, and he’d thus never tried to hit on her with any real intention.

He knew better now,after a thoroughly painful education, than to sleep with the people he worked with. But when he’d just moved to Hyde Park?

Well…he’d been lonely, okay?

Eric had just finished assessing his new patient—surprisingly alert for the four different blood pressure medications going through his IV—when his phone went off again.

“Monroe.”

“Room ten’s family wants an update.” The voice on the other end—he recognized the caller as Carol, one of the ICU nurses, even though she didn’t give her name—was brusque.

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