Practice makes perfect. 

That's the old adage I've got in mind as I guide the needle through the raw piece of turkey flesh for the umpteenth time. I've decided to take my career into my own hands instead of bemoaning the fact that my superiors rarely assign any work to me. I'm going to spend my ample free time honing my skills. After all, the best surgeons are those who can operate with their eyes closed. And I won't stop practicing until I'm at that level.

I observe my handiwork. If the mess of turkey on the table is any indication of my level of skill, I foresee a whole lot of stitched up poultry cutlets in my future. I sigh in frustration as I grab another piece of meat, ready to try again. 

"Your knotting technique is sloppy."

I jolt at the voice. My eyes travel to the doorway. A tall, handsome man with a single streak of silver in his messy black hair is leaning against the frame. At my startled reaction, he strolls up to the table where I’m standing with surgical tools spread out all around me. I blink up into his face, needing a moment to just ingest his rugged beauty. 

He withdraws well-groomed hands from the pockets of his white lab coat and slides on a pair of latex gloves. Then, he lifts the needle and forceps from between my fingers. "Your suture is only as strong as your knots,” he explains. His hands move with lightning speed as loops the ends of the thread into a series of perfect slip ties. "That’s your foundation. Weak knots can lead to bleeding, separating fascia…No bueno.” He punctures the flesh and does a flawless running suture as he speaks. "Once you master your knots, stitching will be a cinch. Literally."

He makes it look so easy. Wow!

The talented newcomer extends a latex-gloved hand to me. "Hello, by the way." There's a throaty rasp to his voice and his eyes sparkle with good humor. "I don't believe we've met."

I place my hand in his and we shake. “Hi…I’m…uh...” Did I just forget my own name?

"You're Angela Gallo. Hometown legend. Top of her class at Harvard. Organized an after-school effort for high school science students." His lips curve with a mirthful grin. "Fell from grace in a musty storage closet."

My cheeks flame at that but Good-looking just keeps talking.

"I am Brian Elliot. I'm responsible for hiring you." He throws me a wink. "Sorry I wasn't able to introduce myself sooner. I've been flying all over the country trying to scrape together funding for a project I'm working on. Anyway, the hospital usually only accepts two interns per year but when your resume came across my desk, I said hiring policies be damned. I've got to have this girl.” Um…he’s still holding my hand.

“Thank you, sir.” I manage to say. “I’m honored.”

Suddenly, he's all business. He finally sets my hand free. "Look, I came here specifically to find you. I heard what you did during the fire drill—"

"Sir, I’m really sorry. I know I should have taken the drill seriou—"

He puts up a palm to spot. "And I heard you've been hogging the lab every chance you get."

"I didn't mean to get in anyone’s way so if it’s a prob—"

"I think you'd be the perfect assistant for this research project I'm working on. "

"You wha—?"

"I’ve been attempting to design a medical device, something that will revolutionize the lives of organ transplant candidates as well of those stuck on waiting lists. It’s sort of a filter. Basically, the little gadget will continuously purify the patient’s blood so they won't need to rely on dialysis or an organ transplant to lead normal lives."

"And you want me?" Jaw hanging in disbelief, I point at my own face.

He nods, flashing the perfect set of white teeth. "It’s a project I started working on with my ex-wife when she was a doctor here. It was our baby. But she abandoned it to me in the divorce." His smile grows wider. "Lucky thing I didn't have any kids with that cold-hearted bitch, huh?" He shoots me a wink.

Is he flirting? Warning bells flash in my mind. 

"Anyway, you're exactly who I need to continue this work. I mean, you were willing to risk your life during an active fire alarm all in the name of practicing your suture skills. That's badass! We need more of that in this hospital. But for now, I'll stick with you...if you're interested, of course."

"Yes, yes, yes! I'm interested!" I clap my hands together, shamelessly excited. "When do I start?"

He laughs. "Glad you're on board. How about we meet here after lunch."

"Of course, yes. I'll be here." My grin won't quit. "Thank you for this opportunity, Dr. Elliot. You won’t regret it."

One side of his mouth kicks up in a grin. “Oh, the pleasure is all mine. Or at least, it will be. I mean—once we start working together.”

My heart does a nervous thingamajig in my chest. Oh boy. He's definitely flirting.

"See you after lunch." With that, he strides away, leaving me with an odd feeling of excitement and apprehension. 

Dr. Elliot looks like a living, breathing case of trouble—successful, handsome, divorced, midlife crisis in progress—I’ve got to say that he fits my M.O. perfectly. But that was the old Angie. The new Angie is responsible. She’s focused. She doesn’t fuck her emotionally unavailable boss…I can do this.

This is my chance to redeem myself. And there's no way I'm passing up this opportunity.