Sleeping With My Surgeon (Hospital Romance Book 1)

  Sleeping With My Surgeon

  Hospital Romance Book 1

  Nicole Marsh

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Also by Nicole Marsh

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  Reviews

  Copyright © 2019 by Nicole Marsh. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used simply for the purpose of furthering the storyline and do not represent the institutions or places of business in any way. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental or used for fictional purposes.

  Blurb

  Eleanor

  I’ve had a rough month.

  First, I lost my job.

  Then my boyfriend, who was admittedly a bit of a loser, dumped me over text message.

  My friend comes over to save me from my self-pity and says that we should go for a fun night out. To help me get out of the house and to get over my ex. I agree and end up drunk crying on a random hook-up in my bed.

  He dips out, but is kind enough to leave some water and aspirin on my nightstand before he leaves.

  SO embarrassing.

  I hope we never run into each other again. It shouldn’t be hard because I’m not really the Club type. I’m just going to stay at home moping, until I start my new job.

  Hopefully things will start looking up then.

  Paul

  I’m not typically the Club type of guy. But my buddies drag me out after the worst surgical assistant on planet earth, my surgical assistant, quits.

  The night starts looking up when a sexy redhead enters the bar and ends up taking me home.

  The night takes a nose dive, when that same sexy redhead starts crying on me about her ex, after taking off her own dress.

  I end up tucking her into bed and leaving some hangover tools on her nightstand.

  Guess I dodged a bullet with that one.

  Two days later, I'm hit with a curveball.

  The elevator doors at my hospital open to reveal my new assistant.

  Sexy redhead.

  Chapter One

  Eleanor

  I’m wandering around aimlessly with tears streaming down my face. I stopped wiping them away over a week ago. It became a waste of tissues.

  My eyes have been leaking out tears steadily for almost a month now. I don’t know that I’ll ever stop crying.

  My thoughts of self-pity are interrupted when a knock sounds at my front door. Sniffling, I pull up the hem of my shirt and wipe at my eyes, and nose, before I throw the door open.

  Sandy is standing in the hallway, holding up a bottle of wine in one hand and a bag of takeout in the other. Her smile drops as she takes in my ratted hair and dirty, tear stained sweats.

  “Oh El. You look rough.” She says as she steps past me, not waiting for an invite into my apartment.

  Her nose crinkles as she twirls around. Her eyes flit to each corner of the room, taking in my mess. “Girl, it’s disgusting in here. You’re disgusting. We need to get you cleaned up.”

  I just shrug and sweep some garbage off the couch with my arm before plopping down and grabbing the remote. I flip through channels while I see Sandy picking her way cautiously through the room, acting as if something is going to jump up and bite her.

  She’s being overdramatic. So my apartment is a bit messy. It’s not like I have cockroaches or rats or any other pests.

  I just haven’t cleaned up for the past week, or maybe two. Okay, the past three weeks, tops. But, my heart was just broken for god’s sake.

  Give a girl a break.

  Everyone knows recovering from heartbreak means chocolate, weeping, romantic comedies, and not cleaning. It’s a well-tuned science created by women of heartbreak’s past.

  Sandy walks out of sight, but I can hear her shuffling around in my kitchen opening and closing cabinets. She emerges a minute later with her hands out in front of her like she just scrubbed in for surgery.

  Wearing my bright yellow rubber dishwashing gloves, she has garbage bags tucked into her back pocket, sticking out like a white tail.

  She pulls the first bag out of her pocket and starts shoveling garbage into it from every surface. Once the bag is full, she ties it off and places it near the door before repeating the process.

  From the front rooms of my apartment, she’s able to fill almost two bags of used tissues and take out containers. The sum of my last month of heartache and self-pity.

  Tying the second bag and adding it to the first, she heads into my room and bathroom to continue her cleaning. Sandy emerges a few minutes later with another full bag.

  She walks through the apartment again and nods her head once, as if satisfied all the garbage has been successfully removed.

  Next, she whips out the broom and sweeps my floors. I thought things would end there, but she even finds some Clorox wipes and scrubs down every surface in my apartment.

  I’m not normally a slob. I know that messes breed bacteria and germs that lead to illness, but it’s been a rough month. It all started when I was let go from my job.

  I used to work at a small, private hospital just outside the city. As a surgical assistant.

  Six weeks ago, the doctor I was working for informed me that he made the decision to retire. He told me we only had two weeks left working together before he embarked on a cruise in the Bahamas with his wife.

  Dr. Smith was a kind, older gentleman. Very traditional in his practice and easy to work with, especially when I was a brand new surgical assistant. Before he left, he wrote me a short, but well-worded letter of recommendation to help me find a new position.

  I wanted to stay employed at the hospital, even after Dr. Smith retired. It was where I started working immediately after I finished school and I was comfortable there. But the hospital was small and none of the other surgeons needed a new assistant, they already had full teams.

  After submitting dozens of applications, I finally received an interview on Dr. Smith’s last day. It was for a surgical position at the local hospital near my house. Following a set of successful interviews, I was relieved to be offered a position.

  The only downside was that the opening was to assist a new surgeon One that wasn’t going to be starting at the hospital for another five weeks. He was a new addition to the staff, but had a lengthy history of successful operations and generally seemed very impressive for a younger surgeon.

  I was hoping for my new position to start sooner, but I hadn’t gotten any other calls for interviews. Yet alone other offers. So I accepted the position.

  Afterwards, I worked on hyping myself up. I wrote a list of positives for having over a month off. Instead of focusing on the negative of five weeks without receiving a paycheck.

  I set some intentions and sent a bunch of happy texts to my boyfriend. Letting him know my schedule opened up for us to spend more t
ime together.

  My boyfriend, Leonard, had been away for almost two months. He was traveling through Northern California and Oregon, playing at shows with his band, as an opener for another group that was more well-known.

  When he got back, we were both going to have free schedules, since I had some time off work and he didn’t work outside of playing in his band. We could spend loads of time together to make up for the recent time apart.

  Our three year anniversary was coming up and based on the conversations that we had before he left for his tour, it sounded like something big might be happening for us soon. I wasn’t planning, but was definitely hoping, the night of our anniversary would end with a ring on my finger.

  Instead the fucker never showed up to our plans. Leaving me to sit around in a restaurant at a table for two, finishing a bottle of wine by myself.

  When I got home, I tried to call him but it went straight to voicemail. A few minutes later, he broke up with me OVER TEXT.

  His message said, “Hey El. I just don’t think we’re seeking the same things in our life journey. Hope you understand. XX Leo.”

  After three years he didn’t even have the decency to come to my house and have a conversation about breaking up in person. Honestly even a phone call would’ve been preferable.

  Instead, he dumped me with a dumb message. Like our break up was a mutual decision and the best for both of us. Like it wasn’t inconsiderate to end three years with a text.

  His break up text was almost a month ago, but without any distractions, he’s been on my mind. constantly There were a few times that I started to type out pleading messages to him, asking him to reconsider, but luckily I was able to stop myself before sending them.

  Well almost all of them.

  And I’ve only left one sobbing voicemail.

  Okay, okay.

  I’ve left three sobbing voicemails.

  It’s part of the heartbreak science.

  Look it up.

  Once Sandy is satisfied with the cleanliness of my apartment, she finally opens the wine she brought with her, pouring us each a glass. She grabs some plates, our glasses, and the takeout. Setting it all to the coffee table in front of my couch for us to dig in.

  Sandy has been my friend for years. We attended school together, and quickly realized our similarities, making us fast friends. We roomed together and interned together as surgical assistants, but diverged paths after graduation.

  I’ve worked in orthopedic surgery, it was my passion in school. I decided to focus my career on the specialty and have never reconsidered.

  Straight out the gate, Sandy partnered with a plastic surgeon.

  For the past five years, she’s flitted between three surgeons of various specialties. She says the variety keeps her on her toes and she likes to learn new skills as she goes.

  Not long ago, Sandy changed surgeons, again, and is back to plastic surgery.

  She’s also recently single, but it was a mutual break up between her and her girlfriend. Sandy is too free-spirited to stay tied down for long and I think her girlfriend was ready for something more serious.

  “Girl, we have to get you out of this house.” Sandy mutters as she plates up some fried chicken and mashed potatoes for each of us.

  Sandy is the best. She knows fried and fatty food can cure sadness and definitely came through today to serve up some good eats.

  “You need to pull yourself together before you meet your new surgeon on Monday. You can’t show up to work as the mess that you are right now.”

  I sniffle a few times. “I’m not ready to leave the apartment and interact with people.”

  Sandy adopts a stern expression. “El, Leo isn’t worth living like this. He’s a wanna-be in a shitty band.” She starts talking louder, “He’s thirty years old and still lives with his Mom! This break up is a blessing for you. That man was not worth your time.”

  A few tears leak out of the corner of my eye, while I think about all the time I spent with Leo. Some of Sandy’s words are true, but I still feel the need to defend him.

  “He lives in an apartment above his mom’s garage, because she wants him close in case anything happened to her. I loved that about him, his mom was really important to him.”

  Sandy shakes her head. “His mom took care of everything for him. That’s why Leo lived in his mom’s garage apartment. He isn’t a man, he’s a mama’s boy. And you’re a grown woman that needs a real man.”

  I stop crying and sit up a bit straighter. “What if I can’t find anyone better? Everyone else out there could be terrible, even worse than Leo!”

  Sandy scoffs then leans towards me and sniffs dramatically. “You smell like you haven’t showered in at least a week. Right now you’re worse than Leo. Let’s go out tonight. It’s Friday and there’s a new club that opened up a couple blocks away. It’s supposed to be hot!”

  A few hours later, I’ve showered and Sandy has helped me to tame my long, red hair into some beautiful curls that fall down my back like a curtain.

  I tried to argue that I wasn’t in the mood to go out, but she just pushed me towards the bathroom. Ignoring my protests and forcing me to get ready.

  Sandy vetoed the jeans and tank top I tried to put on. Instead, she dug into the depths of my closet and chose a slinky, emerald colored dress for me.

  I applied a light layer of makeup on my fair skin and threw on some nude heels. I look and feel more human and now that I’m dressed. I’m getting more excited to go out than I initially thought I would.

  Sandy and I are similar in size, so she donned a black cocktail dress buried in the back of my closet. She didn’t want to go all the way back home to find an outfit when the club is closer to my place.

  Her face was already perfectly made up, and her pixie cut attractively tousled. Other than a change of clothes, she didn’t require much work before heading out.

  She calls us an Uber and we sip on our wine while we wait to get picked up.

  A few minutes of waiting, then we’re settled into the back of a black car and headed to the club “Sins”. I’m hoping that the club isn’t too wild.

  I was feeling confident after I got dressed, but now I’m not sure I’m in the mood for a big night out. Even though it’s the Sandy recommended cure for a broken heart.

  A short ride later, our Uber pulls up to the curb outside the club and Sandy stops me with a hand before we exit. “Remember what I always say. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

  “Are we really here for you?” I ask her in a teasing tone.

  Sandy just laughs and walks ahead to the door, flashing her ID to the bouncer. I follow suit and trail after her into the club.

  Sins is massive, in a warehouse type building. Music is pumping through the speakers, lights are flashing, and writhing bodies are everywhere.

  I seek out the bar immediately, quickly passing Sandy on my new mission. I need at least five more drinks before I’m ready for this kind of night out. I feel like all the noise and lights are going to give me a massive headache.

  I’m twenty-seven. About four years past clubbing, in my personal opinion. I know Sandy still enjoys going to clubs, but I’m more of an intimate venue or night home kind of gal myself.

  Loud noises and flashing lights are not my typical scene.

  For her, and for my own broken heart, I’m going to try my hardest to enjoy tonight, regardless. I just need a few drinks to facilitate the process.

  Maybe I’ll even follow Sandy’s advice and find someone to bring home tonight.

  Chapter Two

  Paul

  Two of my buddies dragged me out to a club. They say we need to celebrate a combination of my new job and getting to leave behind the worst surgical assistant ever at my old one.

  Molly had been at the hospital for ten years before I arrived and we worked together for a total of three years. She was the most taxing and particular person I’ve ever met.

  I’m not sure how sh
e managed to reach such tenure or why her previous surgeon raved about her. Most days, I ended up having to do half her job myself.

  As the surgeon in charge of the operating room, I was prepping equipment trays and checking over the OR before surgery. Instead of just getting to focus on the patient. That would not have been the case if I had a competent assistant.

  As terrible as Molly was, I never felt it was worth the hassle to go through human resources to try and get rid of her. I could end up with someone even worse.

  After three years it started to seem impossible that there’s anyone worse at their job out there, but you never know. I also was worried the hospital could get hit with some sort of lawsuit if she was let go.

  Overall, the effort and potential risks of trying to find someone new didn’t seem worth it, so I stuck it out.

  When I decided to accept a position at a new hospital, she wasn’t offered to come with, which was obviously no skin off my back.

  Honestly, it felt like a perk of the position. Human resources hired my future assistant. She’ll also be new to the hospital and I get to meet her after the weekend.

  Hopefully she’s more pleasant and competent than Molly, but at this point I would take anyone that isn’t worse.