"I didn't say I minded. But if you ever want a ride, let me know." His voice held a certain, unmistakable tone.
"Does that line ever work for you?"
"You'd be surprised." He leaned closer, grinning saucily. "Is it working now?"
Eilene shivered. Cheesy as the comment was, it got her thinking about him as a man, not another officer. "I don't―date―"
"At all? Pity," his voice caressed the words.
"Co-coworkers."
"Too bad...." he breathed. Rolling onto his back, he did a fancy move and jumped to his feet. Standing over her, his left hand pulled her up, bringing her close. He didn't say another word, or make any move, merely gazed into her eyes.
Eilene found his dark stare captivating. She wanted to dive in and stay there. "I need...I should...." she mumbled, pointing at her door.
"You don't have your car. I'll pick you up at two."
Before she could answer, Newton released her and walked backward around his car, surefooted and confident. Since she hadn't closed her door, he leaned across the seat, pulling it shut. Flashing another huge, dazzling grin, he saluted her as he backed up. Eilene watched him until he got to the end of her street.
"Did that really just happen?" She could feel his body imprinted on hers. She had never dated coworkers before, but there was no rule against it. Maybe it was time to try?
Anton woke with a pounding headache. He felt like a vice was around his forehead, tightening. Trying to sit up, he got dizzy and felt nauseous. A plastic dish sat on a nearby table. With difficulty, he grabbed it, only to gag over it. There was nothing in his stomach to come up.
A woman poked her head around the door and he smelled food. It had a surprisingly good aroma, and he realized it had been a long time since he'd eaten a proper meal. The coffee and danish last night was nearly all he'd eaten the day before.
"I hope you're hungry. If there's one thing we take pride in, it's breakfast. Surgical has its own kitchen." Her kind face broke into a big grin.
Anton tried to speak, but winced, gasping. His hand flew up to his left cheek and he felt a dressing.
"You had surgery last night," the aid explained as she set out his food and raised his bed. "That fella nearly broke your cheek, and tore up your poor ear."
He tried to speak again, but she waved him off.
"Better you don't talk. You eat. It's all real soft so you don't have to chew. Applesauce with cinnamon. And farina. They ordered scrambled eggs, too, but I'm not sure you can eat them if they aren't cut up real small. Do you need help?"
Anton grunted and tried to shake his head. It hurt like hell.
"None of that. Keep it still. Tap your finger once for yes, two for no."
He tapped twice.
"Okay, then. I'll come back and get the empty tray. And you better eat it all, I fixed it special." Smiling, she shook an admonishing finger at him. "Doctor will be in soon, then the nurse will bring your pain med." She waved and left.
Confronted with the food, Anton discovered he could swallow without chewing, but took small bites. His throat was very sore. They had given him hot tea instead of coffee, which was soothing on the rawness. When he was nearly finished, the door opened, and Dr. Smithers came in, followed by a crowd of younger people. Anton felt very on display.
"I got stuck with post op rotation," she apologized after greeting him. "My resident is down with appendicitis."
Anton snorted at the irony.
Smithers seemed to recognize the tone. "I know, right? He assisted our plastic surgeon, who will be by with his own crew in a few minutes."
The students presented the case notes, and Smithers asked questions to clarify. Anton knew she did that for him, having them explain in less medical terms. Afterward, she handed him a small white board and marker, with an eraser attached.
"In case you have questions."
His first question was, "How is CV?"
"We were just in his room. Dr. Maddox, report."
A young black woman stepped forward, updating him on CV's condition. Anton thanked her with a note.
"Can I see him?"
"Yes," Dr. Smithers replied. "Dr. Maddox is assigned to you both. She'll come back and take you after rounds."
The intern scribbled a note to herself and smiled at Anton. "My pleasure." She seemed to genuinely mean it.
"And Dr. Lister?" He left the question open, unsure what to ask.
"Released on her own recognizance," Smithers sniffed. "She's a victim, not a criminal!" Her eyes flashed and her back straightened.
©2021 Dellani Oakes
No comments:
Post a Comment