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"I'm sorry to be so forward, but how old are you?" I asked.
"25. I worked a few years before starting college. I needed to save up to go, so…" she trailed off, almost embarrassed that she had to admit that.
"That's really commendable, Calla. I'm sorry to have asked you that. It's just, it just hit me."
"And since we're talking vital stats, how old are you?" she asked with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
"34," I replied, almost guiltily.
She rocked on her heels a little. "Well, nine years… not bad, not bad." Now my turn to blush.
I knew it was time to confess. "I'm not sure how you feel about anything, but I just wanted you to know that, well, that night we had together? That was a good night."
She bit the side of her bottom lip. "You could say that. I had a wonderful time."
"Do you think that it will be a problem if you worked here? I mean, you have to work closely with me and I don't want you to be uncomfortable here at all."
She looked me in the eye. "Do you think it will be a problem?" Her wide green eyes seemed to smother my heart.
I cleared my throat. "I think we can both be professionals about it. Work is work. Play is play."
She looked down at the floor and then fluttered her long eyelashes as she looked at me again. "And, do you still want to play?"
Fuck. Perky Dick was still on the field.
I smiled. "Let's just say I'm not opposed to it, but we need to prioritize our professional relationship if you are going to work here. I don't want to compromise what's going on at the office."
"Understood. I wouldn't want you to, either."
Just then, someone else came out into the lobby and pressed the "down" button.
"Well, thank you for coming in, Calla. I'm away for a few days, but we'll be in touch."
"Thank you, Dr. Harrington."
As I opened the glass door to enter the office, I couldn't help but wonder what the hell I was getting myself into. But damn, whatever it was, thrilled me to the core. Fucking Perky Dick was grabbing his pom-poms.
Chapter 8
Calla
The sun crept through the blinds, creating striped shadows across my bedroom. I groaned and stretched, wincing as my tight muscles protested. Today was my first day working at the medical center, a fresh start away from the painful memories of university. They had sent an offer the same day as my interview; it was unreal. I couldn't wait to start so I said I could come in for my first day just before the weekend and get familiar with the office and where everything was. Today was that day. I couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and unease at the thought of what lay ahead.
"Alright, Calla," I muttered to myself. "Time to make today your bitch."
I swung my legs out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, rubbing sleep from my eyes. The cold tile sent a shiver up my spine as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My brown curls were a wild mess, framing my face like a lion's mane. Damn, I looked like I'd been dragged backward through a bush.
"First impressions count, Calla," I reminded myself, picking up my toothbrush and squirting an excessive amount of toothpaste onto it. As I scrubbed away the remnants of last night's dreams, I couldn't help but think about the people I'd be meeting today – colleagues, patients, and most nerve-wracking of all, my new boss.
"Shit," I mumbled around my toothbrush, foam dribbling down my chin as I remembered how intimidating Dominic had seemed during our brief encounter a few days ago. Would we get along? Could I really work for someone who made my insides twist with uncertainty?
I spat the toothpaste into the sink and turned on the faucet, cupping my hands to splash water on my face. The cool liquid felt refreshing against my skin, bringing me back to the present moment. It was time to focus on the task at hand – making a good impression and proving that I was more than capable of handling whatever challenges came my way. I patted my body dry after my cold shower with a towel and took one last deep breath before heading back to my bedroom, steeling myself for the day ahead.
Standing in front of my open closet, I surveyed the various options hanging before me. I needed something that screamed "professional" and "capable" without veering into "trying too hard" territory.
"Let's see," I muttered to myself, thumbing through hangers. The simple black pencil skirt caught my eye, and I quickly slid it off the hanger, laying it out on the bed. Next, I reached for a crisp white blouse with delicate pearl buttons – conservative, yet feminine. To complete the ensemble, I chose a pair of black heels that added just enough height to make my legs look longer but wouldn't kill my feet by the end of the day.
"Looking good," I said under my breath as I slipped into the outfit, checking myself in the mirror. The reflection showed a woman who appeared poised and confident, even if inside she felt anything but.
