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Margo
After yet another restless night’s sleep, all Margo could think about was the big pot of coffee that should be waiting for her in the doctor’s lounge. She’d hit snooze twice that morning for a few more desperate minutes of rest instead of making any at home. But now she was eager for a hot cup after the cold walk to the hospital three blocks from her condo.
She’d established a deal with Dalton a few years ago that they would always have the coffeepot ready or already brewing before the next shift. He hadn’t forgotten once in the last almost three years—until today. Her red coffeepot was missing from the counter, and in its place was an industrial-sized machine that looked like it would require several barista engineers to work it. Gone were the eclectic mishmash of funny coffee mugs, replaced by slick, new, ergonomic cheerful yellow mugs.
She’d cry if she didn’t get a strong, hot cup of coffee soon.
“What the hell is this?” she barked at no one because the lounge was empty since she was early before the shift change to review all the cases Dalton would be turning over to her.
The old coffeemaker was nowhere in sight. She was going to have to run up to the cafeteria and pay a fortune for a cup of hours-old coffee. And if she had to guess, there was one man to blame for this contraption. Its shiny, expensive look screamed Drake.
“Care to try a cappuccino or maybe a mocha latte?” His smooth baritone sounded from behind her.
“Speak of the devil,” she whispered. “You did this.” She spun to face him. She slammed her things down on the small portion of the counter that was empty.
“If you’re accusing me of giving the staff the best coffeemaker in the world and the best ground coffee beans, then yes, it was me.”
She walked up to the machine and grabbed a mug, placing it on the metal tray.
“I just want a big cup of coffee from the old machine that I gifted the staff and the fresh ground beans I supply from the local farmers’ market.”
He pressed a few buttons, and the beans in the clear container at the top began to swirl, the light buzzing sound to indicate they were being freshly ground. She watched, transfixed, like a child waiting for candy to fall from the sky. Finally, a low hum, and golden-brown liquid began to fill her mug. The air smelled of rich soil and the distinct scent of high-quality, fresh beans. When her cup was filled with the deep brown liquid gold, she closed her eyes and took a long inhale before blowing on the brew.
“Good enough for you, chief?” he said with a playful tone.
He was standing too close.
Her back stiffened, but she bit her tongue. She wasn’t going to let him ruin her morning. No matter how hard he tried to get a rise out of her, today she would remain calm.
“I even made sure to get mugs in your favorite color. It’s still yellow, right? Or did that change in the last decade?”
Stunned for a moment, she stalled by looking around the counter.
“Where is my coffeepot? Or did you already throw out the low-end appliance to make room for this absurd machine?”
Drake moved past her, brushing against her arm, and she fought the urge to touch her arm where it tingled from his touch. Opening the cupboard on the end of the small kitchenette, she spied her sad coffeemaker and discarded mugs.
“Everything is here, in case you want to keep it.”
Blowing on her coffee, she took a tentative sip. The delicious taste soothed her ire. “I’ll offer it to the orderlies for their down room,” was all she said before turning her back to him, hoping he would leave her in peace.
“I’ll be sure to run any more gifts for the team by you first in the future.”
Again, she shook off his attempt to goad her but then noticed her sign-up sheet for the holiday decorating on the bulletin board had only one other name on it, Drake Maguire.
He must have noticed where her eyes landed.
“Looks like no one else wants to cut snowflakes out of paper for hours with us,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’m happy to help.”
Gulping down the hot coffee, she stifled her retort and then an alarm overhead sounded, indicating a critical case was arriving. Drake departed the lounge like a superhero.
She let out a strangled breath, and her shoulders slumped. Just being around him was her own personal hell, and it only highlighted the need for her to seriously consider her next move. She couldn’t practice ER medicine forever. It was too emotionally draining and difficult to meet anyone besides other doctors. But if she could get him to sign a contract with Mercy, maybe they would let her leave the ER sooner as the new deputy director, or she could find something far away from Drake.
*
The next few days, she attempted to avoid Drake as much as possible, but as his direct supervisor, it wasn’t easy. Working with him was inevitable but pairing him with another seasoned fifth-year resident helped. Margo only needed to guide them with the more complicated cases, or get involved when multiple victims arrived at the same time to help triage. Drake was a skilled surgeon, but he was also an exceptional doctor, both decisive and able to treat his patients with compassion. The harder she tried to stay away from him, the more he seemed to seek her out asking about every aspect of managing an ER. Everyone was singing his praises, and he seemed to excel under the pressure. He was also annoyingly thoughtful, bringing in bagels or donuts for the staff, and he was slowly driving her mad.
The final straw was when she overheard another resident claim she was going out with Drake that weekend. She had been clear about the rules when he’d arrived, and it had only been a week.
