residency. I get to fly solo quite a bit, but you did a number on that hand. Dr. Ross did most of your surgery. He's one of the best in the country. He's the reason I came to school here."
"So why'd they send the second string in here to check on me?" I asked.
He cracked up laughing at that.
"She's, I'm sorry, Dr. Crawford. She's… you'll have to excuse her. She's still waking up," my mom stuttered.
"He knows I'm kidding, Mom," I assured her. I shifted my attention to him again.
He was still smiling at me as he came around to the side of my bed. "You mind?" he asked gesturing to the foot of my bed. I shook my head, telling him I didn't mind if he sat there. He took a seat, set the clipboard on his lap, and then turned to face me.
I took in his face. He had high cheekbones. I let my eyes drift from his cheek, down his jaw to his chin. He had a dimple in his chin. It wasn't a deep one, but there was one there, and I followed the curve of it for a few seconds before staring at his full lips. He was clean-shaven, and the lines of his face were soft and curvy but masculine. I was mesmerized. I got stuck looking at that little indention at the top of his lips, right under his nose. It was perfectly shaped. There was absolutely nothing I'd change about this man's face. It was a work of art. My eyes met his. Now that he was sitting close, I could see that they were light brown, with touches of gold—almost amber colored.
What in the world was I thinking staring at him like this? I must have still been loopy from the pain medicine or something. I cleared my throat, and stared off to the side, looking blankly at the monitor that was blinking and beeping next to my bed.
"I had to work with the softball and baseball teams at two local high schools during my first year of residency," he said. "I remember hearing your name. All those girls on the softball team wanted to be just like Bailey Black."
I laughed and shook my head as if he was just trying to flatter me.
"I'm serious," he said. "You were a bit of a celebrity."
"Complete with stalkers, apparently," I said, letting out a humorless laugh.
"I'm sorry about that," he said. "I heard about what happened. I guess it's good that you won't have to worry about him anymore, though."
"I guess so," I said. "Everything's still sinking in."
"I'm sure it is." He smiled and reached back to touch my ankle in the comforting way a doctor would. I felt a distinct sensation at the point of contact and a surge of anticipation. My heart began to race, which would have been fine had I not been hooked up to all of those wires. I was sure the beeping sound coming from the monitor sped up when he touched me, and I hoped against hope that it wasn't obvious enough for anyone else in the room to notice. I cleared my throat again just in case.
"Are you still playing ball?" he asked.
"Not really. I was playing slow pitch with the people at work just for fun."
"What do you do for exercise?" he asked.
"I got hooked on kettle bell conditioning while I was in college. I go to a gym down the street from my apartment."
"Kettle bells are awesome," he said. "I use them too."
I found myself looking at his arms and chest and trying to imagine what he looked like without a shirt. He had good posture, and I could tell he was fit.
"Are you kidding me?" I said to myself—at least I thought I said it to myself, but I must have said it out loud because he answered me.
"About what, kettle bells?"
"No, I mean, yes. Wait, did I say 'are you kidding me' out loud?"
He chuckled. "Yes you did."
"Well I meant to think it," I said.
He shifted slightly on the bed so he could face me more fully. He stared at me with an expression that made me think he was amused and maybe even intrigued.
"She's still a little loopy," my mom said.
"Sure she is," he said, smiling and not taking his eyes off mine.
I couldn’t stop staring at him. His dark hair was cut short on the sides but longer on top. It was combed off of
"So why'd they send the second string in here to check on me?" I asked.
He cracked up laughing at that.
"She's, I'm sorry, Dr. Crawford. She's… you'll have to excuse her. She's still waking up," my mom stuttered.
"He knows I'm kidding, Mom," I assured her. I shifted my attention to him again.
He was still smiling at me as he came around to the side of my bed. "You mind?" he asked gesturing to the foot of my bed. I shook my head, telling him I didn't mind if he sat there. He took a seat, set the clipboard on his lap, and then turned to face me.
I took in his face. He had high cheekbones. I let my eyes drift from his cheek, down his jaw to his chin. He had a dimple in his chin. It wasn't a deep one, but there was one there, and I followed the curve of it for a few seconds before staring at his full lips. He was clean-shaven, and the lines of his face were soft and curvy but masculine. I was mesmerized. I got stuck looking at that little indention at the top of his lips, right under his nose. It was perfectly shaped. There was absolutely nothing I'd change about this man's face. It was a work of art. My eyes met his. Now that he was sitting close, I could see that they were light brown, with touches of gold—almost amber colored.
What in the world was I thinking staring at him like this? I must have still been loopy from the pain medicine or something. I cleared my throat, and stared off to the side, looking blankly at the monitor that was blinking and beeping next to my bed.
"I had to work with the softball and baseball teams at two local high schools during my first year of residency," he said. "I remember hearing your name. All those girls on the softball team wanted to be just like Bailey Black."
I laughed and shook my head as if he was just trying to flatter me.
"I'm serious," he said. "You were a bit of a celebrity."
"Complete with stalkers, apparently," I said, letting out a humorless laugh.
"I'm sorry about that," he said. "I heard about what happened. I guess it's good that you won't have to worry about him anymore, though."
"I guess so," I said. "Everything's still sinking in."
"I'm sure it is." He smiled and reached back to touch my ankle in the comforting way a doctor would. I felt a distinct sensation at the point of contact and a surge of anticipation. My heart began to race, which would have been fine had I not been hooked up to all of those wires. I was sure the beeping sound coming from the monitor sped up when he touched me, and I hoped against hope that it wasn't obvious enough for anyone else in the room to notice. I cleared my throat again just in case.
"Are you still playing ball?" he asked.
"Not really. I was playing slow pitch with the people at work just for fun."
"What do you do for exercise?" he asked.
"I got hooked on kettle bell conditioning while I was in college. I go to a gym down the street from my apartment."
"Kettle bells are awesome," he said. "I use them too."
I found myself looking at his arms and chest and trying to imagine what he looked like without a shirt. He had good posture, and I could tell he was fit.
"Are you kidding me?" I said to myself—at least I thought I said it to myself, but I must have said it out loud because he answered me.
"About what, kettle bells?"
"No, I mean, yes. Wait, did I say 'are you kidding me' out loud?"
He chuckled. "Yes you did."
"Well I meant to think it," I said.
He shifted slightly on the bed so he could face me more fully. He stared at me with an expression that made me think he was amused and maybe even intrigued.
"She's still a little loopy," my mom said.
"Sure she is," he said, smiling and not taking his eyes off mine.
I couldn’t stop staring at him. His dark hair was cut short on the sides but longer on top. It was combed off of
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