Page 5 of Resist Me Not
Speaking ofRoadhouse, Sam Elliott was in that too. A classic over-the-top story about a powerhouse in tight 80s jeans coming to people’s rescue like a superhero, which even in the nice blazer and tailored slacks is definitely Trey.
“I didn’t realize this was a hotel. It’s nice,” I say when Trey opens his door for me, and I find myself entering a suite on the top floor. There’s a door for the bathroom and another for a separate bedroom from the living room and office space, almost like an apartment.
“Basic in amenities, but a suite for this price can’t be beaten in most cities.” Trey closes the door behind us, because of course he does, but when I notice a camera on a tripod pointed out the window, I feel a sudden upsurge of anxiety.
It’s just a camera. That’s not weird, right? A camera…
Pointed at my ex’s apartment building, and this guy just happened to come to my rescue.
“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Trey says, setting his messenger bag beside the coffee table. “Have a seat, Walker. Relax.”
“Y-yeah. Thanks.” I take a deep breath and sit on the sofa. Everything has the usual sterile hotel charm, complete with neutral colors and mass-produced cityscape shots on the walls, sporting random splotches of color to make it “art.” There’s thecoffee table, a TV, a minibar with space for making coffee or even mixing drinks on top—and a camera pointed out the window at my ex’s apartment building.
Half my instincts are screaming at me that there are red flags all over the place and I should not be alone with this person, but the other half really wants to keep hearing him talk.
When Trey comes back out of the bedroom with a first aid kit and not a huge knife or axe like Patrick Bateman, I remind myself that not every stranger is a secret serial killer.
Calm down, Walker. This guy saved you, remember?
He also brought a dry towel he has draped over his arm, and a wet washcloth. He sits on the coffee table so he’s facing me and places everything beside him. Since he set his messenger bag aside, I get with the program and set mine aside too. When Trey starts by bringing the washcloth to my face, I can smell the faint scent of soap, and it’s warm water that he squeezes from the cloth to flush the wound before he dabs it. It feels really nice besides the slight sting.
“Let me know if my pressure is too firm. I can always go more gently.”
Every potential double entendre spoken in his velvet voice makes my gut tingle more than the cut on my face. Lower too. “That’s perfect. You actually know what you’re doing, huh?”
“I try.”
I really want to ask about the camera.
“So, doctor,” Trey speaks again before I can, flipping the washcloth so he can dab the cut with the non-soapy side, “what’s your specialization since you’ve finished your residency?”
“Immunology. My fellowship is coming up soon. I’ll be at the same hospital.”
“Isn’t it rare to do your residency and fellowship in the same location?”
Wow. Most people didn’t even know what a fellowship was. “Usually. They want us out there, getting as much experience and mentorship from different sources as we can, but it’s a big hospital. St. Vincent’s. Lots of areas to work in and, well, it’s my dream job to stay there, so I sort of begged.” I chuckle as Trey moves on from cleaning the cut to gently patting it dry. Someone with hands this gentle is definitely not going to suddenly stab me.
I’m still curious about the camera. I can work up to asking about it.
“I, um, have certification exams coming up. It’s sort of a never-ending cycle in the medical field. I could take more time off, but I really want to dive right in. Our program encourages four weeks off for exam prep and down time. I’m half a week in and already stir crazy. I’ll be in pediatrics to start.”
“That is a commendable field.” Trey sets the towel down and grabs the antiseptic. “What drew you to immunology?”
“I was born with pretty bad asthma. Overactive immune system. So it’s always fascinated me. I have it easy compared to people with something like diabetes or MS. Asthma attacks suck, so growing up, knowing other people were dealing with worse every day made me want to get to the bottom of why and help where I could.”
“And here I thought I was the hero of the day.” Trey grins, being even gentler somehow with how he applies the antiseptic.
“You still are.”
“Well, don’t study too hard and burn yourself out during your down time. The weeks before a fellowship are your last chances to relax after residency, correct?”
“You seem to really know the field.”
“A little. My mother is a nurse. I considered med school myself, but travel is too much a part of my life. I had to choose a career that better accompanied my wanderlust.”
“Oh. Not sticking around long?”
He pauses, just looking me in the eyes. He is really close to better reach the cut, so our knees are just slightly interlocked. “A week or two, but the benefits of my job are that when I want to return somewhere, I always can.”
