Page 84 of Just One of the Groomsmen
Addie:No idea what you’re talking about. How much did you drink during poker?
Tucker:Not nearly enough. Maybe tonight I’LL be the one who shows up at your place drunk & frisky.
Her body heated as she thought about it, her heart beating that much faster.
Addie:Hardly a threat. Of course I’d have to be a gentleman and tuck you into my bed. Fair warning, I don’t have the good coffee.
Tucker:Guess I’ll have to bring some.
How’s the wedding stuff going? Need me to come & save you?
Addie glanced at her happy mom and the happy bride-to-be. Nonna was shoving the brownie bites from her purse into her mouth, so she was nice and happy as well.
Addie:No saving just yet. I’m finding my own way of helping with wedding stuff.
Tucker:You girl ;)
Normally those would be fighting words, winky face or not. But surrounded by three strong women, she was thinking that she might just pull off being a little bit of a girl yet.
More than that, it didn’t seem so bad after all.
Chapter Twenty
Addie glanced around as she approached the front desk at work Monday morning, watching for her boss.
Early last week, Mr. Watkins told Addie one of their patients needed traction the next time he came in, so she’d followed his instructions, despite it not being the route she would’ve taken.
Then on Friday, he’d asked why Addie had put him in the traction machine, because now the patient was calling in, saying he was too sore to do his other exercises.
When she reminded him that she’d only been followinghisinstructions, Moody Overlord claimed he never would’ve said that, and Addie wanted to scream and shout that she quit, because she couldn’t deal with him anymore.
Instead she’d practiced self-control and flipped him off in her head.
Then she’d gone home, applied to the few nearby places she could find, and sent an email to one of her former professors, asking if he’d heard of any positions—he always seemed to have the scoop.
Right after she’d finished her certifications, he’d asked if she wanted to interview for a position at Bama, since he knew the coach. She’d balked for the obvious reasons and told him she couldn’t be that far from her family.
Addie set down the tray with the coffees she’d brought in for the receptionist and PT assistant and did another sweep of the area.
“Here’s the chart for your first patient.” Sylvie extended it to her. “He’s a regular asshole.”
“Oh man. I was hoping for irregular asshole this morning.”
“Irregular asshole isn’t in yet,” the PT assistant said, glancing toward Mr. Watkins’s office, and they shared a giggle.
The seniority thing was so frustrating, especially in a small town like Uncertainty. It wasn’t who was best at their job, but who’d been in the position the longest, and it only added insult to injury that she often saw several more patients a day and was still paid less.
But—as he often pointed out—it was his name on the office door.
It could be my name if I ordered lettering and put it on the glass.
It would almost be worth it just to see the look on Mr. Watkins’s face.
Addie pushed into the office, glancing at the file last minute, because the caffeine clearly hadn’t kicked in. “Good morning, Mr. Matthews.”
Ah. The asshole lawyer.
In a town as tiny as theirs, it was hard not to know someone, but he spent the majority of his time in the office, and she’d only seen him at the Old Firehouse once.
