“No.” Cough. “I.” Scratchy death. “I was hoping to—” Delicate noise of me clearing my throat.
“Would you like some water, sweetheart?”
“Please,” I manage to croak out.
The woman swivels to the back side of her desk, opening a mini fridge and retrieves a small bottle with a branded label.
Rhodes, McNalley & McNalley Therapy Collective.
Yep, I am unfortunately in the right place.
Taking a swig from the bottle, my organs finally understand that the assault is over and it’s okay to work properly again. All while I pray to the hot chocolate gods that John McNalley isn’t hanging out near the waiting area.
“Now then, shall we try that again?” The receptionist gathers up a pleated navy skirt before sitting back down on her perch. “You were saying you don’t have an appointment?”
Sheepishly, I shake my head. “No, ma’am.”
“I can help get you scheduled, if you’d like.”
“Oh, um.” Replacing the cap on the bottle of water, I think about the folded-up flyer in my purse. “I was hoping to speak with Mr. Rhodes? Today, if possible.”
Heat floods my cheeks as a knowing smile spreads across the woman’s face. Lucky for me, she doesn’t know what she thinks she knows. “Well, I’m sorry, dear.Dr. Rhodes is fully booked today. Nor does he take walk-ins.” She peers at me over the obnoxiously tall desk.
“Actually, my next appointment was just cancelled.” A deep, silky voice travels from around the corner, and a man whose face matches the photo from Aaron’s phone comes into view.
The photo did not do him justice.
Holding up a smartphone, he waves it at the woman. “Texted the automated system. Told you it’d make your life easier, Mrs. Lanahan.” The man who can only be Oliver Rhodes smirks at her.
Mrs. Lanahan humphs, plopping into the fanciest swivel chair I’ve ever seen.
“So”—Dr. Rhodes slides the phone into his pocket, looking between the annoyed receptionist and myself—“what can I help you with?” Bright, sky blue eyes land on my warm cheeks.
“Oh, well, um … ”A brilliant start, Callie. Really. Top notch.
Each unintelligible syllable that comes out of my mouth causes Dr. Rhodes’ welcoming smile to drop bit by bit.
Thankfully, Mrs. Lanahan comes to the rescue. “I was about to help this young woman make an appointment to see you.” The receptionist casts a sly grin my way.
I look between her and the handsome therapist casually leaning onto the desk with wide eyes.
That megawatt smile returns, stretching his closely trimmed beard to its absolute limit. “Well, I have time now, if that still works for you?”
Any self-preservation left kicks in right then. “You know, I can just make an appointment.” Nervously, I readjust my scarf. Which is way more difficult now, thanks to the stupid water still in my hand.
Dr. Rhodes’ thick brows pull together. “I really don’t mind. Why don’t you give Mrs. Lanahan your insurance card and she can work on getting that squared away while we chat?” The annoyingly handsome doctor rotates to motion in the direction of what I can only assume is his office.
Somewhere in the background, a gust of freezing air brushes the back of my neck. Shoes scooting across the floor signal that I’m no longer alone with the handsome doctor and the ornery receptionist.
“Mr., um, Dr. Rhodes, I appreciate your willingness to bend your schedule to accommodate me,” I offer. My voice comes out higher than normal thanks to my elevated blood pressure.
One of those deep golden brows quirks, giving away the good doctor’s piqued interest.
Breaking eye contact, I unzip my purse to toss in the empty bottle. Right in time for whoever just walked in to bump into me on their way to Mrs. Lanahan.
Sputtering apologies from them fill the air as the contents of my purse spill all over the hardwood floor.
“Here, let me help you.” Dr. Rhodes rushes forward, catching a lipstick tube mid-roll.
