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Max leans back in his chair, seeming pensive. “I say you break this down. Do the old pros and cons thing. Because workplace romance can be a bitch.” He looks out over the club for a moment before adding, “But after that, if you can’t fight this feeling, I say go for it. Could be the universe sending you a sign she’s the one.”
My eyes connect with his, and the mentalist in me awakens.
You might be on to something, my clever friend. You just might be on to something.
CHAPTERELEVEN
POPPY
“Ugh. This day has got to get better,” I mumble as I reach for a wet paper towel. In my haste to package this bottle of Tincture of Benzoin, I spilled some of the contents on both the pharmacy counter and my lab coat. On the bright side, it should round out the coffee I spilled on my top on the way to work this morning.
Tincture of Benzoin is primarily used for wounds. You only need a small amount. It’s a good thing because the copper-colored resin has a strong scent. While it’s supposed to smell like warm vanilla, it reminds me more of licorice.Hope no one’s behind me in the cafeteria line today.
The memory of that afternoon causes my cheeks to flush. No man has ever spoken to me as brazen as he has. I try to remind myself it’s just his persona. He’s probably flirted with half the women on staff at St. Luke’s in the same way.
I have to concede Dr. Weston does have a stellar reputation. If he’s been involved in a salacious workplace affair, he’s managed to keep it under wraps. Not to mention, the women employed here all flock to him like the maidens inCinderella, hoping their foot is the perfect fit for his proverbial glass slipper.
It isn’t that I’m not flattered by his comments. But it’s difficult to wrap my head around the possibility they could be genuine. Dr. Broadie Weston is an exceptionally rich, successful surgeon who could have any woman he wanted. If he were going to risk dating in the workplace, you’d think he’d select any of the bevy of young nurses at St. Luke’s, not a widow pushing forty.
“Poppy, the ER is on the phone. They say they have a surgeon in the department who’s waiting on Versed.”
Of course, they do.“Thanks, Abbie. Can you put them on hold, and I’ll talk to them?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks for holding. This is Poppy.”
“Heyyy, Poppy.” I recognize his voice immediately. The way Dr. Silver draws out the Heyyy, gives him away. He’s a smarmy emergency room physician who I secretly think is a male chauvinist pig. I swear I could have the same conversation with him about a medication shortage or delay as Frank or Marshall, but I’ve never witnessed him being condescending with either of them. “I have a surgeon here waiting to close a wound, but we don’t have the medication he’s requesting. We ordered it at least ten minutes ago.”
Ten whole minutes.I understand it’s the emergency room, but we’re managing medications for the entire hospital. If it’s that urgent, why didn’t he call right away? “Could you give me the patient’s name and date of birth, Dr. Silver?”
“Oh, how’d you know it was me?”
Most people would’ve identified themselves.“Lucky guess.”
He rattles off the patient’s demographics, and I quickly look for the issue. “Ah, I see the problem. It appears the last time this patient had an inpatient procedure, she had a reaction to the Versed.” It’s clearly listed as an allergy. “I can bring—”
“I don’t have time for this. This surgeon has taken it upon himself to keep his office patients waiting so he can come to treat this emergency room patient. Do whatever you need to do to get that medicine here, stat.” The line goes silent, and I bite the inside of my cheek to prevent spewing the obscenities I’d like to call that man.
I take a few moments to do some research to ensure the replacement medication is safe for the patient before retrieving it. This isn’t the way this is supposed to work. The provider should either correct the order or give me a verbal order for what they want to prevent medication errors from occurring. But there’s no way in hell I’m calling him back.
“Do you need me to take that to the ER, Poppy?” My sweet pharmacy technician asks with a bit of a nervous lilt.
“No, Abbie. I’ve got it.” I’d never put her in this situation. “I’ve got my zone phone. If anyone calls, just forward them to me.”
“Okay, Poppy.” I’ve been fortunate enough to work with Abbie for several years. Much like Katarina years ago, she’s working as a pharmacy technician to earn money while gaining experience so she can apply to pharmacy school.
Making it to the emergency room in record time, I’ve barely got both feet through the entry doors when I’m accosted.
“It’s about time. I guess I didn’t make it clear that this is an emergency. I knew I should’ve asked for Frank.”
What. The. Fuck.
I try to take a calming breath.Focus on the patient, Poppy.You can air your grievance to human resources after you leave here. Don’t let this asshole cause you to do something you’ll regret.
Out of the blue, I see Dr. Weston barreling toward us. Ah, so this must be the hot-head surgeon who’s been waitingnot so patiently. I dig my heels in, hoping to keep my cool until I can escape this department. Yet, when I open my mouth to explain, I’m cut short.
“I’m sorry for the delay, Dr. Silver, but I needed to—”
