Cynda and the City Doctor - Theodora Taylor Page 0,7
shift after him easier.”
I raised my eyebrows and pulled back my neck to say, “No, they do that to make your life easier. Your life only.”
He frowned down at the charts. “That can’t be right.”
I shrugged. “Don’t believe me, ask the other docs on your shift.”
“I will,” he answered. “But perhaps it would behoove you to show us the same kindness as the other nurses.”
“And perhaps it would behoove you to tell the chief it’s time to put Dr. Rhajeen out to pasture as opposed to expecting us nurses to cover his ass,” I shot back.
His sharp jaw worked in a way that told me he was gritting his teeth. Then he said, “Fine, I’ll take that under consideration. In the meanwhile, would you be so kind as to help me with this chart.”
Back when my mom was still alive I would have at least tried to act like I was a somewhat gracious person. But now…
“Man, I just got off my shift and this is the first chance I’ve had to eat all day,” I answered. I walked over to the refrigerator to retrieve the Chinese food I brought for lunch. “So if you want me to look at that chart for you, you’ll need to wait. Or I’m sure any of the nurses currently on shift would be happy to help you translate. They’re such huge fans.”
He stared at me for a tense, irritated beat. Then he asked, “Are you always this prickly? No wonder you’ve had twelve relationships go wrong in as many months.”
So he was listening in! I almost let him see me sweat. But acting bothered wasn’t a thing I like to do. Especially in front of men who were so fine nurses acted a fool whenever he signed on for his shift.
“Are you always this entitled?” I plopped the carton in the microwave, then punched the minute button three times to start it up. “And how long were you listening in on my conversation anyway?”
“Long enough,” he answered. He picked at a corner of the paper chart. “It sounds like your stripper friend has trouble brewing with that new boyfriend of hers.”
“Right?!” I asked, turning away from the microwave to face him. “He’s sketchy as a big dog, but Gina won’t listen to me.”
Dr. Prince set the charts aside on the breakroom table. “I’ve a sister like that. She’s always falling for suspect men. She went through a string of artists who never managed to produce enough work for a show. And now she’s going out with an aspiring yoga guru.”
Okay, so I guess The Fine Prince and me are chatting now. “Aspiring, huh? I didn’t know that’s something you aimed for. Yoga teacher, I get. Maybe even a meditation master. But who’s like ‘you know what I’m fixing to do? Become a yoga guru?’”
His lips twitched slightly. “Do you think he’s already written the script for the Netflix docuseries about his inevitable rise and fall under a combination of sexual harassment charges and unpaid back taxes?”
“He most definitely has!” I let out a surprised laugh. This guy was funny in a droll sort of way.
And hot I couldn’t help but notice. He had that smooth I just woke up looking like I could walk onto a Shonda Rhimes set vibe on lock. And when he smiled down at me, something weird happened in my chest. I don’t know what it was, but it made it impossible for me not to smile back up at him. For real this time. No Princess Missouri.
No wonder nurses of all colors spent so much time making sure his charts were all the way correct. The Fine Prince indeed.
As if reading my mind, he asked, “Do they truly call me that. The Fine Prince?”
“They sure do,” I answered, pulling my carton out of the microwave. “You want in on this?”
Yes, I’m prickly, but the manners my mother instilled in me remained. Even after she was gone.
Remembering my last sight of her, a wave of sadness passed over me. She’d been surrounded by loved ones, her husband, her daughter, and a few of her friends from the Lutheran church we attended. But she had looked so small in that hospital bed.
“You want me to call your sister?” my father had asked her as she worked hard to breathe through her nasal cannula oxygen tube. “Let her talk to you one last time?”
For some reason, my mother had turned her head to look at me.
Then after what looked like several