One Moment Please: A Surprise Pregnancy Standalone (Wait With Me #3) - Amy Daws Page 0,25
has been lifted. I might not have a career or a home, but I have a Tinder date and an epic party in my near future. Things could be a lot worse.
“Incoming, Dr. Richardson!” a nurse yells as she rushes by.
“One moment please,” I snap at Sheila who’s been riding my ass all fucking night. I close my eyes and purse my lips before turning to face her. “Sorry, Sheila. That frustration wasn’t meant for you.”
“No worries, Doc,” she says with a smile. “The ER’s been a shitshow tonight, so I get it.”
Not the most professional way to put it, but the truth nonetheless.
I finish inputting discharge information for my recent patient—a college football player who came in and needed two stitches to the head. He cried incessantly the entire time, and we had to drug him just so he’d calm the fuck down. I’ve had children with broken limbs come into the ER with a higher pain tolerance than this guy. But it’s time to move onto the next patient.
I close out the chart and stand, straightening the stethoscope around my neck and inspecting my scrubs for any signs of blood. On a typical night in the ER, I’ll have to change at least three times. But to think about needing to change for a guy who only needed two stitches would annoy the fuck out of me. The last time I had to change for a stupid reason didn’t involve any blood whatsoever.
It was pie.
I shake my head as memories of Lynsey flood back. God, that chick was crazy. Lurking in a hospital cafeteria. Saying ridiculous things that made no sense. Begging me to spank her. Definitely not a typical day.
However, I will say, the past few months have been kind of dull without her lurking in the cafeteria like a weirdo. I hadn’t realized how much of her daily presence occupied my thoughts until she was gone. And gone she definitely was.
The morning after we slept together, I had a six a.m. shift at the ER. I planned on giving her a ride home before I left, maybe even getting her number because—crazy or not—the sex was the best I’d ever had. I wanted to see if she’d be interested in something casual, but she ran out before I even had the chance to talk to her about it.
My mother had plenty of things to say, though, when she called me that morning demanding to know about the strange woman who answered my phone. I didn’t have a good answer for her because, frankly, it’s unlike me to sleep with strange women, especially since moving back to Boulder.
But something about watching Lynsey all those weeks in the cafeteria drew me to her. It was as if I knew her without ever speaking to her. And now that I know her intimately, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since.
However, the left side of my brain knows not to pursue her. Lynsey and I are opposites. She wants a career of working with children while I do what I can to stay far away from them.
An ache thumps in my chest because if I’d have met Lynsey four years ago, things between us could be so different. I was a better man back then. Lighter. Less troubled. And once upon a time, I did like kids. In fact, I loved them. I had to because I’d dedicated my career to them.
But things change.
Life happens.
Which is why Lynsey did me a huge favor by bolting on me that morning. If I’m still thinking about her after one night, imagine how bad I’d have it after several. It’s best that I stay far the fuck away from her. I’m not interested in long-term attachments of any kind. In my experience, you get attached to things, and you get hurt.
Sheila thrusts the new patient chart into my hand, and I freeze when my eyes come across the name: Lynsey Jones.
My brows furrow.
It can’t possibly be her. I’m not fucking magical, so I couldn’t conjure her here with my own damn thoughts.
I glance at the date of birth, hoping it’s some elderly patient or a small child, but the patient is twenty-seven. My stomach sinks.
“Fuck,” I grumble under my breath, and Sheila frowns at me. I shake my head, refusing to make this a thing. It’s not a thing unless I make it a thing. I’m an ER doctor. She’s a patient. Nothing more.