Scandalous Scotsman - M.J. Fields Page 0,14
who else in near proximity he could have offended.
“It’s just us boys,” Weiss, the hand and wrist specialist across the table, lifts his glass.
Hook grips my shoulder. “Four ex-wives have proven the theory.”
Dr. Sherman chuckles. “Can’t argue with it. He’s conducted a scientific study.”
“Women like that marry for love, until they realize we’re never home and then it’s all about the money. When it’s good though,” he winks. “They certainly know how to make you feel like the dominant species.”
I scrub my hand over my face, inhale a deep breath, sit back, and try to calm the fuck down.
Relax and enjoy, I remind myself as I look at the water and the setting sun.
“Since Ethan is pretty new to us, why not go around the table and introduce ourselves and our specialty?” Sherman suggests.
What the fuck is this? Team building shit? I sigh inwardly and nod as each man does as Sherman suggests, and then I suppose it’s my turn in this circle jerk.
“Dr. Ethan Stewart, sports medicine.”
“So, what does a sports medicine doctor in Scotland actually do?” Hook chuckles. “Travel with the Highland dance club in a kilt?” Everyone snickers, and he continues, “Olympic caber tossing team?”
“Nah.” I shrug. “Mostly fuck the wives of American tourists who are bored with their husbands.”
“Does insurance cover that in Scotland?” I look up to a familiar face.
Fuck, I think to myself when I realize Ms. Bloom was privy to my dig at the asshole next to me, yet probably hasn’t a clue it was in fact a dig.
The whole table erupts again as she sets drinks in front of us, laughing as well.
Accepting my defeat and deciding not to make this anymore uncomfortable than I must, I raise the glass that Ms. Bloom set in front of me. “To national health care.”
When the liquid hits my mouth, I nearly choke. My eyes fly up to meet Ms. Bloom’s, and I see her smirk. I force the entire contents down, accepting her juvenile challenge like a fucking frat boy.
She continues to smirk as she rounds the table and takes my empty glass. “Would you like another Manhattan?”
“Is dat what dat was?” I ask, trying to keep my cool.
She smirks, turning her back to the table, and whispers, “I asked for extra bitters. Suits your personality.”
“I’m good,” I sneer.
By the time dinner is served, I’ve had enough of the way they look at Ms. Bloom and am extremely annoyed that they don’t seem to take it easy on her, knowing she has an injury. Instead, they run her ragged. And the way they talk in front of her? Appalling. Then again, she’s giving just as good, if not better, than she’s being given. Annoying.
Three busboys bring out our entrees, and she takes each plate from them and places our meals before us.
When she sets mine down, I look at her skeptically and she rolls her eyes.
Not completely trusting her, I take a small bite of my steak, finding it’s untampered with.
She looks at me out of the corner of her eye as she sets the seafood platter in front of one of my coworkers, clearly amused.
Throughout the meal, Ms. Bloom continues to entertain the whole group of men who have definitely drank too damn much.
After the table is cleared, she stands at the end farthest from me. “I’d ask if you gentlemen would like another drink, but at this point, I’m pretty sure none of you are really gentlemen.”
Everyone laughs. Everyone except me.
“How about you as dessert?” Hook asks in a tone that makes my skin crawl and fists clench.
Finally, having had enough of his shit, I snap, “I think dat’s enough.”
“She’s a grown woman. I’m pretty sure she’s fine with it.” Hook waves me off. “Lizzie, babe, I’d love to take a look at that fracture. Play doctor.”
Lizzie laughs. “I’m all set.”
“I think you might need a second”— he winks— “opinion. A new doctor maybe?”
“She’s mine,” I snap.
All eyes, including Ms. Bloom’s, swing to me, and I realize the way my words came out.
“No need for a second opinion. She’s my patient.”
Silence.
“Dessert anyone?” she asks.
Over half the table orders dessert, none of them needing it, and then Ms. Bloom heads inside as Shirley pours coffee all around. I slip out of my seat and head inside to find her.
Walking inside, I see her through the crowd and follow her. When she slides into the kitchen, I have to hold myself back from following her in. Pacing back and forth, I watch as she