The awake case at one went off without a hitch. I was in my shit brown scrubs, of course, but luckily my headache was gone. Chase was extremely quiet. Guy, on the other hand, was bitching about the music choice. I happened to love all things acoustic. My Pandora station seemed to be approved by all yesterday. Chase hadn’t balked.
“Leave it, Guy! I like this song.”
If he played Red Hot Chili Peppers one more time, my head was going to explode.
“Leave it, Hunter, or just fucking turn it off!” The tension in Chase’s voice exceeded the level of regular annoyance.
You could have heard a pin drop in the operating room. I held my breath. The agitation and turmoil spinning around in his eyes was disheartening. What the hell was his problem? The circulating nurse made the executive decision to turn the music off. I agreed that was probably the best decision, but that meant we stood in complete silence. For six hours.
Luckily the case ended without complication, I hightailed it out of there and made it to my apartment in record time. A good long run proved to be my go-to stress reliever. I quickly changed into running clothes, grabbed my iPod and headed toward the river. The four-mile loop was beautiful, peaceful, and more importantly, flat. Two miles in, I made a pit stop to tighten my loose lace.
“You’re pretty fast. What do you run, a six minute mile?”
It was a voice I could not ignore and had a tone a lot less harsh than what I heard in the OR. This man seriously bounced from emotion to emotion, it was hard to keep up. I popped the earplug from my ear while balancing my foot on the split rail fence and peeked over my shoulder at him.
I inwardly smiled for a couple of reasons, though. Number one, I was a pretty fast runner, and the thought that he couldn’t catch up to me was pretty funny, even if he was lying. Number two, he looked amazing.
A black dri-fit short sleeve shirt clung to his sweat-drenched body. Was it really possible to see each ab through a shirt? I swear to god I saw all six of them. The black running shorts exposed his sickly defined legs, and the trickle of sweat that beaded up across his forehead made his hair have just the right amount of curl. He ran his hand through his hair at that exact moment. I might have stopped breathing.
“So you’re following me?” I was sarcastic—at least I hoped I sounded that way.
He grinned. The tension from the OR had definitely seemed to vanish. “Why not? The view is something else.” He glanced beyond the fence toward the river. Was this his way of flirting? So much for running to clear my head. “I didn’t know you liked to run; you come out here often?”
“Guess I didn’t spill my entire guts last night; something you don’t know, huh. And yes, I love it out here ... it’s typically very relaxing.” I used the tone that Sierra would refer to as snotty.
“Hmmm, good to know. It’s never been my first choice of a workout, but maybe now it will be.” He wiped his brow with the edge of his shirt and took off without a glance back. Oh my god, he was trying to kill me with the tease of his washboard abs. Damn, he so did that on purpose. I sighed, realizing I was holding my breath. He was a mystery I had every intention of solving. I stood motionless with, I’m sure, my mouth hanging open. What a sight. The man was gorgeous.
I obviously wasn’t alone in my thoughts. My gawking was interrupted by a girl who attempted to turn around mid-stride to check out the back of him. She nearly broke an ankle. I couldn’t help but laugh. Unfortunately, the rest of my run was very uneventful.
6
Blood bath
My week seemed to go by in a blur. Work was work. No more drama when your day was limited to rounding, visiting patients and hibernating in an office under a shitload of paperwork. The OR nonsense had seemed to die down. Unfortunately though, this morning Chase decided he wanted me in the afternoon case. Not exactly how I wanted to end my week.
“Where’s Jack?” I asked Sam as we headed down the hall to the OR suite. “I can’t believe he’s missing his favorite surgery.”
“My lucky day—Jack’s at a conference and Guy was being a douche, so Colton said I could scrub.”
“Good for you, Sammy, ’bout time.” I smiled.
“Two weeks and I’m finally seeing the inside of an OR for real, hope I don’t fuck it up.”
“Don’t jinx yourself.”
“Let’s go. It’s Friday and I wanna get out of here before midnight.” We both turned around to Chase’s fast approach. No lab coat. Hair slightly disheveled. So this was what I was missing all week. So freaking hot. I caught myself running my tongue over my dry lips. He was totally staring at my mouth.
“On our way, thanks again for letting me scrub.” Chase nodded and Sam disappeared into the scrub sink area.
“Glad you could come this afternoon, been hiding out all week?” His gaze made it difficult to formulate a thought.
“Lots of paperwork. Lots of patients to tend to this week. I thought having me in the OR was wearing off.”
He squinted just a little. “Never, Blue.”
With that he disappeared into the OR. I hesitated, my composure disintegrating. I’ve never experienced communication through only the eyes and it was unnerving.
With hat and mask on I approached my patient, who appeared only mildly sedated. I took his hand and whispered words of reassurance.
“Ask Lili.” I overheard one of the scrub nurses say.
“What?”
Sam whispered, “They want to know which music station to turn on, seems Colton is only okay with what you pick.”
I raised my eyebrows, guessing the drama from the other day had circled. I turned toward the charge nurse. “It’s the Jason Mraz acoustic Pandora station or the coffee house on Sirius XM, either one.”
“Thanks, he’s finally letting us listen to some music,” the nurse whispered. “It’s been silent until you came.”
All this whispering was awkward—he was just on the other side of the table. I was sure he heard the whole stupid conversation.
“Petit, are we starting anytime today? Let’s go.”
Obviously I was right. Chase was annoyed we were talking about music. What was it with him and music? When I ran into him by the river he wasn’t listening to anything either.
Sam turned to look at the anesthesiologist. “Um, Dr. Jennings, is the patient ready?”
I had been in enough surgeries to know at this point the anesthesiologist needed to deepen the patient’s sedation before they could start.
Sam gave me a small shrug and repeated an octave louder. “We’re ready to start. Is the patient ready?”
Dr. Jennings jumped from his chair. “Oh, um sure, wait, give me a minute.”
“What the hell, Carl?” Chase hissed. “You paying attention? I’m about to make the first incision and he’s not even asleep yet.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. Thankfully the patient was not awake enough to hear.
“Yeah, Chase, go ahead, he’s out.”
“Give the blade to Dr. Petit, please, Carol.”
Carol was a scrub tech who worked exclusively with Dr. Colton. From what I could tell she was really good. She seemed to know which instrument to hand Chase before the words left his lips.
“Dr. Petit, here’s your blade,” Carol stated.
Sam’s hand trembled.
“Petit, make the incision,” Chase impatiently snapped.
Finally Sam steadied his hand and made the cut. His mask moved in such a way I could tell he was grinning. Chase took over instructing Sam here and there, asking him questions from time to time. This neurosurgery stuff was something my brain could not comprehend.
“Sam, fuck, what’d you hit?”
I sat up in my chair and my heart leaped into my throat. Chase’s tone was ... frightening.