AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You know you can call me Wes.”
She had thrown up a professional wall so high I didn’t know if I was strong enough to break it down, but I sure as hell was going to try. I was used to getting what I wanted, and I wanted this woman.
“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Her blue eyes softened. “I’ll see you back here in two weeks to check on your progress.”
I could have argued and said the trainers would take care of me. The team doctors would oversee the rest of my recovery and wouldn’t want any interference with the treatment, but I didn’t disagree.
“I’ll see you in two weeks, Doc.” I grinned as she closed the door.
6
Lennon
I handed Wes Blakefield’s chart to the nurse to input into the system. I walked away from the station, ready to check on my next patient. I didn’t want to think about whether it was intentional that I had checked on him first. I tried to tell myself it was so I could escape if I needed to. I would have an excuse if those smoldering eyes of his got under my skin again. I pulled my shoulders back, knowing I kept things professional in there. I didn’t cross any doctor-patient lines.
But I had heard his heart beat. I heard it pick up as I moved across his body. My fingers lingered on his skin, tracing the lines on the tattoo running up his forearm. He might be a notorious playboy, but I had made his heart race. I smiled before walking into Ms. Parish’s room.
“Good morning. And how is that elbow today?” My seventy-five year old patient needed all my attention, and I had to stop thinking about the Wranglers’ quarterback.
“Dr. Ashworth?”
I was packing up my bag for the day in front of my locker. The shift had gone well. Two smooth surgeries and my patient recovery rate was stellar this week.
I turned to look at the nurse in the doorway. “There’s a delivery here for you at the nurses’ station.”
“Oh?” I wasn’t expecting anything, and the sales reps usually scheduled appointments with me.
The nurse looked excited. “I think I know who it’s from.”
“All right. I guess I’ll pick it up on my way out. I’m almost done.”
But she stood in the doorway, waiting for me to walk with her. God, I wish I could remember her name. She was the one who always wore the brightest scrubs. The happy kind with rainbows and kittens. Oh right, she was Sonny.
I followed her through the corridor to where the nurses were huddled together. All I could see were tufts of cellophane through the circle. The whispers stopped as soon as I appeared.
“She’s here.” They giggled. “Looks like you have an admirer, Dr. Ashworth.”
They stepped back, and I took a look at the contents through the clear wrapping. “What is this?”
Sonny piped up. “It’s from Wes Blakefield. He sent you every possible Wranglers memorabilia there is.” She tapped at the basket. “Cups, koozies, a signed football, and it looks like that’s his jersey number.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” I hovered over the monstrosity of football crap.
“Read the card. Read it,” they urged.
This wasn’t how I wanted to receive a gift. Not with everyone gawking around me. And not from a current patient. This was wrong on so many levels.
Sonny shoved the envelope into my hands. Cautiously, I pulled the card from inside.
Thanks, Doc
WB
That was all it said. I pushed the note back inside. I wasn’t going to read it aloud.
“You all can get back to work now.” I tried to shoo them from the basket as I wrestled it into my arms.
“It is from him.” There was a chance half of them were going to faint right there. “Oh my God. Wes Blakefield sent you a gift. You know what that means, right?”
