Page 1 of Rich Man

Chapter One

Amanda

It wasn’t my intention to find myself in my current situation. Sometimes I wonder if life is just predetermined, if we have any true control at all.

“Amanda,” my coworker says gently, pulling me out of my stupor.

I’ve been staring at the discharge paperwork in front of me for the last – I check the clock – fifteen minutes. God, it’s been a long day. And it doesn’t help that rent’s due in a few days. I don’t have it, and I’ve already gotten one extension.

Shaking my head to clear my mind of those thoughts, I smile at Mina, who’s looking at me curiously, and say, “What’s up?”

“I was just asking if the paperwork was finished,” she says, a hint of concern in her voice. “Everything alright today? You seem a little distracted.”

I wave my hand to dismiss her concern as I give her the paperwork, “I’m fine. It’s just been a long shift.”

“You’re telling me,” she replies compassionately. She glances at the clock on the wall. “Well, the good news is that you’ve probably only got one more patient before you can get out of here.”

“Always looking for the silver linings,” I say, giving her my best impression of a real smile.

It’s enough to placate her because she walks off a second later, leaving me to collect myself. I rub my shoulder and roll my neck a few times. Ever since my grandmother moved into the already-cramped house I share with my mom, I’ve been sleeping on the couch. It’s not even comfortable enough to sit in for long periods of time, so I hate to think of the damage it’s doing to my neck and back. Not that I get enough sleep anyway. Since the water heater stopped working, I’ve been waking up early to take showers in the gym. Uncomfortable as it may be, I am desperate to get home. Unfortunately, I do have another patient today, though I haven’t bothered to look at his information. I’m fairly certain it’s just a final checkup after a shoulder injury. All I’ll be doing is asking a few questions.

I get to my feet and wander over to the nurse’s station. I’ve made an unfortunate habit of tucking myself away in corners to work on reports, but in my defense, I haven’t felt particularly sociable lately. In fact, dread pools in my stomach when the other nurses see me coming over and say hello to me.

“Hey, ladies,” I say, doing my best impression of someone who isn’t so stressed about cash she’s sick to her stomach every minute. “What’re we looking at?”

“There’s the chosen one,” one of my coworkers, a new girl whose name I haven’t learned yet, says.

“Chosen one?” I ask, glancing at the paperwork in her hands. I can’t read the name on it, but I assume it’s for my final patient of the day.

“Your patient in room 203 is… very good looking,” she says with a grin, handing me the pages so I can read about him.

Eric Joyner. That’s my patient’s name, and for some reason… it sounds familiar. I wonder if he’s a family friend or if I’ve met him in passing. No, that doesn’t seem right. I think I’ve seen his name on a sign before, but I can’t imagine where.

Pushing that thought aside, I scan the rest of the document. I was correct when I thought he was in here for a final checkup. All of his other information looks fine. He’s a healthy man who got an injury while being active.

“So, he’s good looking,” I say, rolling my eyes playfully when I finish going through the file. “There are a lot of good looking men that come in here.”

“You don’t ever appreciate the eye candy,” another of my coworkers chimes in. “But you should with this one. Not only is he hot… he’s rich!”

That’swhere I know his name from. Eric Joyner is a real estate developer – an infamous one at that. Most of the people in Blackwood Falls blame him for the rent prices soaring. And, while I don’t think he’s single-handedly responsible, there’s no denying his investment properties have certainly played a role. In fact, because he’s able to charge more for rent in his newly renovated properties, our landlord feels justified in raising our rent despite the fact that he’s made no improvements to the property.

I roll my shoulders back, reminding myself that nothing about Eric’s personal life or the way he makes his living matters right now. It’s my job to go in there and ask some intake questions before I hand him off to the doctor. I’m a professional, after all. And god knows I need this job.

“Well, lucky me, then,” I say to the other nurses. “Is he ready for me?”

“He should be,” one of them says.

“Get his number,” the new girl encourages.

I don’t bother to hide the way I roll my eyes at her statement. She’s lucky there aren’t any veteran nurses standing around. They’d be on their way to HR right now to get her written up for even suggesting fraternizing with our patients.

For some reason, when I stop in front of room 203, my fist poised to knock, I’m overcome by a wave of nervousness. It’s strange, almost like something big is about to happen when I walk into this room. There’s no explaining it, but I have to take a few deep breaths before I can bring myself to knock on the door before sliding it open.

“Mr. Joyner,” I say, peeking my head inside with my patient-service smile on. “I’m Nurse Amanda, I’m just here to ask a few questions before we had you over to the doctor.” I always use my first name with patients. Not only does it put them at ease, but it also makes it more difficult for them to find and follow me on social media or, god forbid, at my house.

As I step inside, he turns to look at me, and my heart skips a beat in my chest. I recognize his face because it’s been in the newspaper. I could tell by those photos he was an attractive man, but they don’t do him any justice. I can’t quite believe how gorgeous he is in person.

Eric has blonde hair that’s combed back and gelled neatly into place. His brown eyes watch me inquisitively, and one perfectly maintained eyebrow quirks curiously. The edge of his mouth tugs upward, stretching perfect, very kissable looking lips.

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