Page 11 of My Salvation
KATE
After a relaxing weekend getting acclimated to my new home and picking up necessary supplies, I feel about a hundred times better than Friday. And now that the anniversary of Collin’s death has passed, I’m sleeping most of the night again.
As I look over the patient roster for the day, I notice we’re light on patients. I wonder if this is the usual pace, or if it’s an anomaly.
“Sarah, are these all of the patients scheduled for today?” I’m shocked at the light load.
“We typically leave a few spots open on Mondays so we can get in a few walk-ins. People who have hurt themselves or gotten sick over the weekend usually help fill up our Mondays,” she explains.
“Very efficient,” I say thoughtfully as I try to think of any other practice using this process. “Well, let’s get the first patient back and see what the day brings us.”
Sarah and I quickly take care of the morning patients. We had one walk-in from a nearby cattle ranch who had cut up his hand pretty badly after getting it tangled in a roll of barbwire, but nothing a tetanus shot, some stitches, and a round of antibiotics couldn’t fix. He was the last patient of the morning, and it’s now lunchtime. But first I need to stretch.
Using the door frame, I place a palm on each side, lean forward, and stretch my shoulders and back. I had been hunched over for the last 30 minutes, cleaning and suturing the rancher’s hand, and needed to re-align my posture a bit. Closing my eyes, I groan at how good this feels. Stretching my arms up high, I elongate my body as far as I can to stretch out my spine.
Hmmm, better.
I open my eyes and see Lowell standing in front of me. My shirt had drawn up a bit when I stretched, and now a strip of skin is showing between my shirt and pants. Lowell is staring at that strip. I quickly lower my arms, and his eyes rise to meet mine.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he murmurs, his eyes dark.
“Hello, Lowell. Are you here to see Sarah about the supplies, or do you need something else?”
“Actually, I came to apologize to you and Sarah.” He smiles. “And to tell you how impressed I was with your smooth moves in kicking me out of your office.”
Well, this is unexpected. An apology?! And OMG, is that a smile? Yep, a smile. This man should definitely smile more often. He is much more approachable. Maybe even charming...no, not charming. He’s kind of intense, and even with a smile, you feel all that intensity in your face. It’s like he focuses all his attention on discovering your secrets. I don’t really want him to know my secrets. When he stares at me, though, I almost want to give him my secrets. Damn him. It’s simultaneously unnerving and sexual. Hmmm...I wonder what it would be like to have all that intensity in bed? Would the orgasms be more intense? What would he focus on first...
“Kate? Are you okay?” he questions, with a bit of a smirk.
It’s almost as if he could hear what I was thinking. “Sorry, I was just thinking about...lunch.” I can feel myself blushing. “I’m hungry.”
“Yes, I can tell,” he says huskily as he pulls his hands out from behind his back. “Good thing I brought lunch for everyone.” In his hands are several bags filled with food from the deli downtown.
“Lunch? Good apology.” I smile as I walk away. “Let me grab the team.”
As we all sit down to lunch, I watch Lowell, trying to figure him out. He doesn’t seem to like small talk, but he makes it a point to ask everyone about their lives. Every incremental piece of information gleaned is like bits of data he hoards for use later. It’s a bit of an interrogation, really, but I don’t think he means it that way. I can see the writer in him as he digs deeper into their lives to understand their motivations, desires, and needs. This is the part of him that makes me want to run the other way. He simply asks, and with very little resistance people unintentionally give him information, emotions and secrets.
He looks up as I’m staring at him. He’d been speaking with Brittany about her upcoming marriage and honeymoon.
“You should ask Dr. Michaels about going to San Francisco for your honeymoon,” he recommends as he looks over at me. “I believe you are from there, correct?”
Staring at him for a second, I realize he probably read my background check for work. “Yes, I’d be happy to tell you about San Francisco, Brittany,” I reply, lying through my teeth. I don’t even want to think about San Francisco, much less think of happy honeymoon spots to visit in that city. But I don’t want him - or anyone, really - to know how much I hate that city and all its memories.
“Thanks, Dr. Michaels, but I think we want to go to Hawaii,” Brittany chirps, smoothing down her blouse and puffing out her chest a bit. “My fiancé wants to see me in a bikini for our honeymoon.”
“Hawaii is wonderful, and a perfect honeymoon place,” I tell her, laughing silently at the look on her face. “Well, this has been fun, but we have a patient coming in for a visit in about ten minutes. I’m going to go review their chart. Thank you, Lowell, for a lovely lunch. Apology accepted.”
“My pleasure,” he replies quietly. Aware that I seem upset about something, but not exactly sure what prompted it, I’m sure he’ll leave and dissect every bit of conversation from the past few minutes. “I’m heading out anyway to write a few more chapters. I’ll see you later.”
***
IFINISH UP PATIENTSearly and walk over to Lev’s bar to grab dinner and a glass of wine. After eating lunch with Lowell, I’m feeling overwhelmed. I think I’m attracted to two men, but maybe it’s just my imagination. I met with Lev only for a few minutes the other day, and what if he was just being friendly? I can’t tell. I’ve dated very little in my life. Since Collin died three years ago, I haven’t been on any dates, and he and I either had been dating or married for the previous seven years. It’s literally been only Collin the last ten years of my life. Before him, I dated a little in college, but with my class load, it was tough.
I pull the brass handles and open the door to The Black and Gold. The inside is huge. It looks like he renovated an old factory. The floor is brick laid in a herringbone pattern, ducts and pipes fill the tall black ceiling, and the lighter wood tables and black chairs pull it all together. To the right of the entry is a beautiful, polished wood bar.
I spot Lev standing behind the bar, pouring a drink. Pow! That man sure packs a physical punch. He’s wearing a tight black “The Black and Gold Bar” T-shirt and jeans, and he wears them well. Both mold to every inch of his body. When he spots me, he motions me over and steps out from behind the bar.
“Well, hello, Dr. Michaels,” his voice husky as he greets me. “Is everything OK?”
