ELIZABETH MYERS

“I’ll have the mocha latte with a double shot of espresso and almond milk, please. Thank you.” Glancing to a text message, I don’t see at first that my barista is checking out my cleavage. He's early 20s, a little scrawny, definitely hipster, and not attractive to me in any way.

Finally catching him in the act, I cock an eyebrow. “Dude. My face is up here.”

He grins to his credit. A sense of humor takes a man’s attractiveness up several notches for me. Which of course gets me thinking of Caden Cocker. But then again everything has me thinking of that mischievous son of a bitch, usually for not good reasons.

Sighing, I step away and zip up my wallet, glancing down because my credit card got stuck in the zipper. “Get in there.”

“Dr. Myers!”

My head swings up and I smile at Janet who I seem to run into here nearly every day. We live in the same neighborhood, Midtown.

“Dr. Gilroy. Nice to see you. How is your day starting off?”

“You can call me Janet when we’re not in the hospital.”

“I know, you keep saying that,” I smile. “I prefer to keep things professional when we’re in this stage.”

She doesn’t have to ask which stage we’re in. And she’s smart enough to not explore that subject with me.

She plays it cool, this one.

We both glance over to see if our coffees are ready yet. She’s the lucky winner because the female barista with spiky hair and piercings sets down a cup, calling out, “Janet!”

Every day that girl acts like she’s never seen us before. Real customer service specialist right there.

Reaching for the gold, Dr. Gilroy mutters under her breath, “If only the coffee at the hospital was this good, right?”

Nodding, I stare at the espresso machine like that will make my mocha latte get deposited in my fist quicker.

I couldn’t sleep last night.

My mind was on Caden.

The glint of amusement that is constantly behind his expression, except maybe when I’m reproaching him for overstepping, has been popping into my thoughts often lately.

It’s unnerving.

Totally involuntary.

I’ve tried to stop.

But Caden has these amazing, almond-brown eyes that glitter like he’s got a secret. His temper, however, I could do without. Especially since it brings out my own. With everyone else I have complete control.

With him…it’s different.

When he was assigned to me just over two years ago, I was less than thrilled. Nobody could tell I felt that way, of course. I pride myself on my ability to hold my emotions at bay. I’ve always believed it’s a professional necessity.

Trauma surgeons must face and conquer challenges a fragile person couldn’t handle. Emotions have no place when you’re saving a life.

Except ambition, that is a must.

Not the drive to reach a higher status level, but the ambition to do whatever it takes to hold death back when it looms. If the grim reaper exists, I can proudly say I’ve ticked him off many times.

There have been some terrible things I have witnessed but I have also experienced extraordinarily beautiful moments. The countless times I’ve been the cause of those gorgeous breaths when a family cries from joy instead of pain, are enough to get me out of bed every morning heading in with a sense of purpose in my step.

That’s why I didn’t want to be bothered with a guy who looked like Caden Cocker, under my tutelage. From the moment I saw his good looks and cocky swagger, I pegged him as a pretty-boy jock type with a silver spoon up his ass. Someone who wouldn’t get down and dirty when chaos struck the ER, as it always does.

I expected him to be in heat. Send our nursing staff into a clusterfuck of drama. Spend all of his time trying to take off their scrubs while begging off doing real work for the hospital.

Ruefully I expected to constantly babysit his prima-donna ass. And I do have to babysit him, but for none of the slacking-off reasons I’d wrongfully predicted.

He didn’t meet my assumptions and instead exceeded my expectations, working too hard.

Human beings need sleep. Residents have a limit on the hours they can legally work, and he’s forever ignoring it. Frankly, I’ve never seen anyone as competitive, or as temperamental when he feels slighted.

It’s a problem, and the only one he has. If he could just be more like Janet whose veneer never cracks, then Caden would truly outshine all of his competition for a permanent position at Atlanta Hope.

It also doesn’t bode well for him that hiring a female trauma surgeon would make the board of directors look good, politically. And I’m all for excellent women earning their way to higher positions. I was raised by a powerful woman to be a powerful woman. I could count myself as a Feminist if I didn’t loathe the need for there to be such a cause in the first place.

Also, I love men.

It’s a fine line.

Holding ourselves up.

While not squashing them.

Working together—that’s the answer.

It’s where true balance and happiness lies. Because both sexes have something to offer that is unique and helps the other. Mutual respect and teamwork is what I aim for as the end goal in all things.

And Caden…dammit…I truly don’t want to admit to myself that he’s accidentally become another reason I enjoy going to work. This curiosity I have to see what line he’ll cross next, does me absolutely no good.

His future is in my hands.

At some point, not far from now, I will have to make a decision and I cannot let my recent and irritating partiality to Dr. Cocker sway my judgment in who stays at Atlanta Hope.

I was moved by what he did yesterday. I did some digging and discovered he’d brought chocolates to every cancer patient this week. A male nurse on that floor said that one patient had been released, so Caden left that box for the next one admitted—and Ray ate it.

That kind of selfishness is what I normally expect from people.

Sad as that is.

But the selflessness Caden displayed…no, that’s not the right word…the compassion, thoughtfulness, and generosity of spirit—not to mention time visiting with and brightening the days of those not under his watch—flabbergasted me.

I went there to toss him on his ass like the dozens of other times he’s pushed the clock-limits. Instead I had to leave in a hurry, because if I’d have stood there a moment longer I would’ve hugged him!

I found out how he’d gotten away with nobody telling on him—except Janet who tipped me off that he’d not left as he was supposed to have. Cocker claimed I’d given him permission. Everyone accepted that as true, which makes me feel lame for not being given the chance. Of course I would’ve given him permission! What makes him think I wouldn’t?

Does he think I’m heartless?

Not only would I have said yes, I would’ve contributed to help him buy the chocolates! I would’ve told him my favorite flavor, pistachio, given him the names of the best stores to get it at so he could offer options, maybe even driven there myself because it would have felt so good to do something that uniquely kind.

Aloud, I huff, “I am not heartless!”

“Um…Dr. Myers?” Janet Gilroy is miraculously holding my coffee. “You must really need this. You didn’t hear them calling your name a couple of times. And…who called you heartless?”