Greyson
Either my day just got better, or shittier. I'm not sure which one it is yet as I watch Suzanne walk out my door. Apparently, my actions from the elevator didn't win her over, which also means she left after telling me never to text her again. Okay, I admit I might've ignored her, but I couldn't help it. The moment I noticed Sherry laying in the lounge chair, everything went into high gear. Something about this chick makes me lose my mind. Like to the point that I want to break every rule there is. The desire to run my hands over her porcelain skin, the need to taste every inch of her. That's all a first for me, and trust me, I've been with my share of ladies. But they were a quick fix, something to get out of my system or blow the stress from the day off. No, Sherry is more, and that should cause me to run for the hills. She's the one that you don't play like a fiddle. No, you play her like a classic violin, making sure you hit every string at the perfect moment for complete gratification. Sliding the glass doors open, I step out onto my balcony that overlooks the pool yard. I take a moment to search her out, just in case she might've gone back down. With no luck, I prop myself up on the banister and run my fingers through my hair. A part of me is curious about her. Twice now I've seen her asleep, and it makes me wonder if there’s something wrong with her. We live in Miami, a few blocks from the beach, and she's pretty pale compared to most people in the community. I know it's unethical, but I'm going to do it anyway. Tomorrow, I'll pull her file back out and take a peek. She seems healthy, other than the sleeping and paleness. Don't get me wrong. She has color, it's just not a bronze glow that I'm used to.
Making my way back inside, I head to my office to go over more paperwork that my father had sent over. It seems that you have to sign your name more than you do when buying a house or car when you plan to take over the practice. Insurance, liability claims, property papers; you name it, it's on my desk. I grab a beer from the fridge and stroll toward my office where I'll spend the next few hours locked away before I get some shut eye. I look at my schedule for tomorrow, and from the looks of it, it's going to be a busy day.
* * *
After taking a long hot shower this morning, I dress in a pair of dark washed jeans and my black button-up shirt that I roll up to my elbows. Dad wouldn't approve, but since it's my office, I want to be me. He, on the other hand, wore suit pants and ties each day when he wasn't in scrubs. Don't get me wrong, I have scrubs, but I only keep a few here at my place as the rest I moved to the office and to my locker at the hospital. If anything I can always grab a set from there if needed. I never wanted a job where I had to wear the monkey suit. No, I wanted to be my own person and feel like myself in my own style of clothes. As you can tell, this has been a topic of family discussion from time to time. Not to mention, my father hates my hairstyle. It's cut down on the sides, but the top is long and messy. If I have to go deliver or into surgery, it fits under my cap with no problem. At times I even let my facial hair grow out for an added touch to my style. Back in Savannah when I was doing my residency it didn't affect my job to perform, nor were there any complaints. With my satchel packed full of files, I head down to the parking garage.
When I pull out onto the street, I happen to notice the barely five-feet-tall blonde who's invading my thoughts walking down the sidewalk. I slow to a crawl before I pull over and hop out.
"Morning, care for a ride to… Where are you going?"
"Morning, no and work," she says as she continues to walk. I take the chance and reach out for her arm and pray that she doesn't turn around and smack me this early in the morning.
"Will you let go of me? I don't have time for your games today."
"Not playing games, Sherry. Just get in the car and let me take you to where you're going."
She chews on the inside of her lips and cheek as she thinks about it. Before she agrees, she looks back at my car then over to me. "Fine, it's en route so we better get moving or you'll be late."
With a smile, I place my hand on the small of her back and lead her toward my car before opening the door for her. Okay, I might have a smug smirk plastered on my face because she said yes. I know, playing with fire and breaking the rules once again. We'll just call this carpooling. Nothing wrong with giving your possible patient/neighbor a lift, especially when you're headed in the same direction; right—right.
Buckling up, I toss the car drive and head toward the office. "Do you not drive?"
"No, I do; I just don't like to."
"Okay, I can understand that, I guess. Where do you work?"
"Dawson's Realty, two blocks down from your office. Just park there, and I'll walk," she says as she stares out the passenger-side window.
"I can drop you off at the door, you know I don't mind."
"It's cool."
"So you're a realtor?"
"What's with the twenty questions this morning? Are you always this chipper?"
"No, just trying to get to know my new friend and neighbor," I respond.
"Let's leave it to the neighbor, okay, and how about the quiet game?"
"Sure," I say and hit the button on the radio for some background music. I drum my fingers against the leather steering wheel, letting the beat move through me as we sit quietly. I take a chance to look over at her, hoping she might be enjoying the tunes, and notice that her head is propped up against the door and she's fast asleep. I can't help but let a low snicker out in this situation. I've never met anyone who seems to sleep as much as she does. Maybe it's her iron level? Maybe she has Narcolepsy? I remind myself to pull her file again to take a look to see if Dad ever made a note about it. Thirty minutes later we pull up to her office building, and I park on the curb where the yellow paint alerts me. Not turning the engine off, I get out and walk around to her door. Gently, I open it to where she won't fall out face first on the pavement. That's all I need at this point. My hand rests on her shoulder as I softly nudge her. Sherry's ice blue eyes open and stare into mine as I offer a smile in return. "We’re here," I say.
"Guess I fell asleep, sorry," she says, shrugging it off before grabbing her bag from the floorboard. I step back and allow her space to exit the vehicle. Standing here, I rock back and forth as I don't know what to say. I'm waiting for her to speak first, as I don't want to make her uncomfortable. I could just ask her about the sleeping, but she just met me and why would she tell a stranger about a medical problem? "Thanks for the ride, have a good day," her voice filters in the morning air, sounding peaceful like an angel.
I smile and give her a curt nod before responding, "Welcome, and just call the office if you'd like a ride home. It's not safe to be out alone."
"It's okay, I can manage, but I'll let you know if I change my mind."
"See ya later," I say and retreat back to my side of the car. With one last look before I pull away, I still question everything about her and this pull that I have toward her. Shrugging it away as I need to keep my eye on the whole picture—that being the practice.