Page 15 of Doctor Bossy

“Terradol actually affects another protein—the MHC 1 protein,” I said. “And knowing the difference is crucial to our research. Listen, Becca, I’m sure you’re a very bright girl, but I can’t hire you.”

Her face fell, but unlike Lisa, she didn’t crumble into tears. Instead, she nodded, getting to her feet. “Alright. I won’t waste any more of your time today. I’ll go and do more research and be back here tomorrow.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. “I thought the university called you to offer you your job back.”

I had called Dr. Robinson myself, and though the man had many negative things to say about her, I heard the lies in his words. By the end of the conversation, he assured me that he would call her to give her the job back.

“They did,” she admitted. “And I told them to shove it.”

I raised an eyebrow, and she smiled. “I realized that I’d only be doing the bare minimum by staying there, never advancing. I want more. Working here is my dream, and I assure you I will make it come true. Even if I have to read every research paper on this planet to do it.”

7

BECCA

Griffin was proving to be a difficult man to convince.

On the one hand, I understood why he didn’t want me to work for him as a lab tech. His analysts and techs were people who had at least a graduate degree, often a medical degree or Ph.D. as well, and had years of experience in their field. Meanwhile, I only held a summa cum laude from my undergraduate and a few letters of recommendation from old professors I worked for. While I pretty much excelled in my academics and internships, I knew it still wasn’t enough to warrant a spot on his research team.

But I was determined to get it.

I didn’t come this far in my life by giving up on things when they seemed too difficult or even near impossible. I went from one of the worst school districts in the entire country to Broadchurch University. Nothing was beating me, and I certainly wasn’t afraid of hard work.

So I did what I did best.

I worked my ass off, and I studied.

For the next few weeks, I read every article Dr. McCormick had ever published, bought a few oncology textbooks, and pored over research papers, all to do with brain cancer. Despite just graduating, I was already familiar with some of it, but I had to build my familiarity as much as I could so that I could answer any obscure questions he threw at me. While my primary research field was genetics, a lot of my skills and knowledge were transferrable. In addition, though I didn’t have an eidetic memory per se, I still had a good enough memory where I retained most of the things I learned pretty easily.

And while I did that, I made sure I showed up at his research institute every day, always offering to help out in any way that I could, from fetching the team lunch to cleaning up after they were done.

I did so today, too, bringing in a picnic basket full of sandwiches and waving to the security guard, who shook his head as he scanned me in. He did the same thing every time I came—as if he couldn’t quite believe I was here again. I was sure Griffin had mentioned me, but I wondered why he hadn’t asked them to deny me entry if I was such a bother to him. He could have, but he didn’t.

Perhaps he was enjoying my company much more than he wanted to.

Ha, talk about wishful thinking. Just because you can’t stop thinking about the guy does not mean he harbors any secret desires for you the way you hope he does.

Not that I seriously bore such illusions, I told myself.

Sure, the man was one of the most good-looking people I had ever met, not to mention kind, smart, and so damn masculine that he awakened everything feminine inside me. It didn’t mean anything, though, and I knew he did not feel the same way about me. Plus, what I felt for him…well, it was a mere crush on a handsome man, but I was sure I would get over it once I started working for him and spent enough time in his presence.

He just needed to give me a chance first.

Today, as I walked in, his secretary glanced up, and with a warm smile, she said, “He’s in the conference hall.”

“Thanks, Willa,” I said, placing the basket on her table. Inside it was a box of cupcakes I had brought for her. Willa hadn’t exactly been excited about my consistent presence when I first started coming and had only grudgingly allowed me to sit in the waiting room until Griffin was done with his meetings. But she warmed up one day when I brought her a mousse from the bakery across the street. That was when I found out she had a massive sweet tooth, and from then on, I fed it every single day.

“It’s red velvet today,” I announced, and I nearly saw her clap her hands together in glee. I shook my head in amusement before I turned around, taking a left turn out of the office and into the long hallway that eventually led to the conference room.

But, of course, things could never be that simple.

Because, on the way there, I ran into the last person I wanted to see.

James McCormick.

My only saving grace was that I saw him before he saw me. James’ head was down, and he was typing something into his phone as he walked. He looked vaguely annoyed but otherwise, the same as usual—same floppy golden hair, same handsome features, same preppy clothes.

I froze in my step.

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