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The middle-aged nurse shrugged, unapologetic. “Wasn’t that your plan? To butter me up so I’d make sure you were always with me?”
“I heard you were the best at starting IVs.”
“I’ve never stuck you more than once, have I?”
“I keep bringing you food, don’t I?”
“I guess we’ve got the perfect arrangement, then,” Natasha said, her eyes searching around Mia’s chair. “So, what is it today? Pumpkin bread? Muffins?”
Mia reached into her purse and located the small paper-wrapped package. “Scottish shortbread.”
Natasha put the back of her hand against her forehead dramatically. “Mercy, I love shortbread.”
“You love anything with sugar.”
“Truth.” Natasha tucked the proffered package into her scrubs pocket. She took Mia’s hand and tugged gently to straighten her arm, palm up. She tapped two fingers along the crease of Mia’s inner elbow. “Veins still look great, even after all this time.”
“Someone told me to chug water the day of each infusion. Works like a charm.”
“Not everyone listens to me, but I’m glad you do.”
Mia smiled and watched as Natasha wrapped a tourniquet around her bicep and swabbed the blue vessels with an alcohol pad. She had to look away when Natasha pierced her skin, though. No matter how many times she did this, she still couldn’t stomach the moment the needle went in.
Once the IV was in and the clear fluid was running, Natasha peeled the gloves off and disposed of them. “I’ll go get your drug.”
While she waited, Mia unlocked her phone and pulled up her personal email. One caught her eye, and her stomach flipped. She opened the message and her eyes flew over the words:
Ms. Adrian,
Congratulations! From an incredibly talented pool of applicants, I’m delighted to inform you that you’ve been chosen for the Ignacio Return to Learning Scholarship. We look forward to welcoming you back to campus...
Her heart leapt with excitement, but it was as short-lived as the rush of the downhill slope on a roller coaster. Her brain quickly admonished the surge of joy with a harsh reprimand.
What were you thinking?
She’d applied for the scholarship late one night when she was feeling sorry for herself. She’d had a couple glasses of wine and started researching what it might take to go back to school to finish the dietetics degree she’d started more than a decade ago, despite knowing it would be a challenge while working full-time. She already had medical bills to deal with and was averse to taking out significant school loans, something that had held her back on multiple occasions.
Hence, the scholarship. She’d found one specifically for adults going back to school and on a whim, decided to go for it.
When she’d filled out the application in her mildly buzzed state, she poured out her heart, explaining what happened during her third year at CU and why she’d had to put school on hold. She talked about her lifetime goal of becoming a pediatric dietician after being such a picky eater as a child that she was in the fifth percentile for weight, and only improved after beginning therapy with a dietician who worked exclusively with kids. Her desire to do the same for others hadn’t faded since leaving halfway through the program. She disclosed her financial hardships, and that she’d do almost anything for the opportunity to finish her degree and pursue a career she was passionate about.
It had been therapeutic. An exercise in putting herself back out there and considering the possibilities for her future.
She didn’t think she’d actually getpicked.
The scholarship required she enroll in at least twelve credit hours per semester, and there was no way she could do that plus work full-time at Agnew Design Group.
And there was no way she could quit, because she needed their generous medical insurance policy.
She laid her phone in her lap and bit the inside of her cheek, pondering any possible way she could accept the scholarship. She came up empty-handed, and an hour later, when her infusion was finished and she walked out of the treatment center, her disappointment ran deep. She headed to Wings To Go, glad she was meeting Noah tonight.
If she could pick one person to sit with while wallowing over how much this sucked, it was him.
2
He shouldn’t have worn this shirt.
It was Thursday, and Noah knew he’d have client meetings. Hell, he even knew one was with a woman. Not that he shared Mia’s assessment—he wasn’t so arrogant to think the color made him irresistible.
