Page 10 of Rust the Rejected
I smile at the hospital dispensary pharmacist and pivot, only to bounce off a solid wall. A white coat over a pair of green scrubs blocks me. Hands steady me. Who the hell?
My head snaps back and up, up, up to find Dr. Ingolf staring at me questioningly. His hazel gaze flits from me to the pharmacist and lands on the bag in my hand before returning to my face.
I tighten my grip on my medicines as my lip curls defensively. Then I think about it and relax my features, offering him a cordial smile. No need to set off alarms with him regarding the contents of my bag.
Two days passed since my fall and the first I’ve been able to leave my apartment for the hospital. The ride home with Dr. Ingolf proved challenging.
He insisted upon carrying me from the ER to his Range Rover.I don’t want you stepping on glass and cutting your foot, Dr. Moore. And you don’t want additional hours in the ER unnecessarily, do you?So much bigger than me and dominant, I had no choice but to let him have his way.
At the SUV, he placed me on the passenger seat and put the safety belt across my chest. I bit my lower lip when his knuckles grazed the curve of my breast. Instantly, the nipple beaded at his unintentional touch. He maintained a straight face. But I swore his eyes glowed. When he shut the passenger door, I moved as close to it as possible without plastering myself to the rich wood inlay. Being naked beneath my robe disinclined me from getting too close to him.
However, his masculine scent engulfed me—citrusy, musky, and spicy. Tempting. I let the window down and used the excuse of needing fresh air after all the time in the ER. He nodded with a slight smirk. I stared out the window and did my best to ignore the sexual attraction.
He stuck to generic questions about where I was from, how long I’d been at the hospital, did I like Miami so far. I skipped over details to my past and stuck with my college and med school period through the present. Very easy and detached conversation. Just what I preferred.
Once we arrived at my apartment building, he climbed out of the SUV and jogged around its front to open my door. With a firm grip around my waist and under my thighs, he hoisted me from the seat. For a second, our eyes connected. I was lost. Again. Fortunately, the spell broke when he asked me to push the door shut. The soft thud reminded me to squash any intention beyond doctor-patient care. All the better!
Despite my protest I could make it to my apartment from the lobby, he ignored me and strode to the elevators. With a scowl, I pressed the call button and the floor button once inside. Not wanting to add to the intimate connection of me being held bridal style in the confines of the elevator, my gaze glued to the floor indicator.
His warm breath tickled the top of my head. I ignored it. But the strong pulse of his heart against my breast caused tingles to zing throughout my body. The temptation to snuggle against him almost won. Fortunately, the doors slid open, and he strode into the hallway.
At my front door, I typed the code onto the electronic lock panel and pushed the handle. He stepped inside and glanced around. A frown marred his handsome face at the sight of the boxes. I gave up protesting at being carried and simply pointed to the bedroom door. He settled me on the bed and left for the kitchen. A bottle of water on the nightstand and instructions to take the pain medication every eight hours as needed and to keep my arm dry and elevated were his last words.
When I heard the door shut, I used the app on my mobile to activate the lock. With a sigh, I snuggled against the fluffy pillow—not Dr. Ingolf’s solid muscular body.
Unlike now.
“Dr. Moore, good to see you getting about. I notice you wear the fiberglass cast. How’s your arm?”
My cordial smile widens—more in relief he didn’t call me out for the odd mixture of medicines he must have overhead me requesting based on his questioning reaction.
“Better, thank you, Dr. Ingolf. I just left the orthopedist. If we were in high school, I’d ask you to sign my cast,” I respond with a grin. “Instead, I’ll thank you again. You impressed her with your realignment of the fractured bones. As you said, twelve weeks should mend my arm.”
His hazel eyes dance as he returns my grin. The overhead lights catch the shimmering golden flecks.
“Good to hear I know what I’m doing after all! Even better, you’re well. I couldn’t help but observe the boxes in your living room. Let me know if you want help to unpack, especially with your arm—”
He reaches into the pocket of his white coat and withdraws a pager. His eyebrows knit as he scans the screen. A hand rakes through his loose hair.
“Listen, I gotta go. You know where to reach me,Dr.Moore,” he says as he rushes off.
I watch him jog down the corridor. His dark ginger hair and the white coat fly. Long muscular legs carry him away with ease. He’s at least a foot taller than anyone else. So, it’s easy to follow his path through the patients and the hospital staff. A few nurses stop to ogle him. My returned enhanced hearing picks up their comments.
“Dr. Ingolf is by far the hottest doctor in the hospital!”
“I wish I were his emergency…”
“What I wouldn’t give for Dr. Ingolf to give me some tender loving care. Talk about a steamy bedside manner!”
A couple of them giggle behind their hands like starstruck fangirls.
Gah!
I shake my head, then pivot and stride in the opposite direction. I’m not due back in the office until the day after tomorrow. Which is perfect since I still need a few more medicines to complete my serum formula. The pharmacist expects the order to arrive that day or the next one. I just have to lie low in my apartment. The last thing I need is to come across a wolf shifter. Unconsciously, my feet hurry towards the exit as I clutch my precious cargo to my chest.
I make it home with no incident after I pick up Thai food for lunch. A glance around at the loads of boxes and I just might take him up on his offer to help. I make my way to the bedroom and store my medicine supply on a lower shelf in the closet—less risk of another mishap. Then change into my robe and settle on the sofa to binge on food and Netflix.
But my mind drifts to Dr. Ingolf. I searched for him on the hospital website. What else can I do all day with a bum arm? My curiosity revealed more about the good doctor. Rust suits him with his dark ginger hair. A rich shade that sets off his golden-flecked hazel eyes as he stares at the camera in his bio photo. Those clean-shaven, chiseled cheekbones and square jaw give him a strong masculine appearance. The full lips curve in a slight smirk to provide a glimpse into his confidence. Combined with his degrees from Vanderbilt University, published works, and multiple accolades, those in need of his expertise as a critical care surgeon can rest assured, they’re in excellent hands.
