Sleeping With My Surgeon (Hospital Romance Book 1) Page 2

  The club we’re at is loud and obnoxious. It’s not my usual scene. Half naked drunk girls are writhing all over and flashing lights flit around the club in various patterns.

  I’d prefer a sports bar if I were to choose the venue, but I let my friends convince me that we should check out “the hottest new nightclub in town”. Their words, not mine.

  A headache is brewing from the noise and the lights. I’m about to suggest that we move to a more relaxed bar, when a beautiful redheaded woman entering the club catches my eye.

  She’s wearing a green dress that shows off her long legs. Her hair is bouncy and vibrant, glinting in the light like a beacon. I watch as she glances around and makes a beeline for the bar, with a tiny blonde woman in tow behind her.

  “I’m going to be right back,” I yell. Excusing myself from my friends.

  I weave a path around to her side of the bar, with the intention of intercepting the pair. I’m about to approach when another man walks up with a purposeful stride to her and her friend.

  Ah, she must be here to meet him. What a shame.

  Before I turn around to loop back to my friends, the tiny blonde steps between the man and the redhead. Her expression turns ugly and she starts jabbing a finger in the man’s face.

  Curious, I move closer to the group. I overhear the blonde’s aggressive tone, but don’t quite catch her words as she finishes talking.

  Surprisingly the man hasn’t left yet, he’s still just standing with a finger in his face.

  I decide to swoop in and save the day. “Ladies, is everything okay?” I direct my question at the woman with the red hair.

  Looking at her face, I see she’s even more attractive up close. She has large doe eyes with plush lips settled in a beautiful heart-shaped face.

  Paired with her long legs and curvy figure, she looks like she could easily be featured on a billboard to advertise anything. If she were featured, people would buy the product, no doubt in my mind.

  She looks me over, before responding.

  I’m confident she’ll like what she sees during her perusal. Not to sound cocky, but I know that I’m an attractive dude. Tall and lean with dark brown hair.

  I’ve been told numerous times that I have that whole “tall, dark, and handsome” vibe going on. Plus I’m intelligent and wealthy, so women don’t usually complain about spending time with me.

  The redhead opens her mouth to talk, but her blonde haired friend interrupts. She starts yelling more aggressively at the other man, still standing there. “Get out of here, she isn’t interested.”

  The man glances over her head to look at me standing next to the redhead and shakes his head before he stalks off with an angry expression. Blondie turns to face us after he leaves.

  She also looks me up and down before shooting me a wicked smile. “Hey, wanna get a drink with us?”

  I look to the redhead to gauge her interest and out of the corner of my eye, I can see her friend jabbing her in the side. The redhead winces slightly, then shoots an indiscernible look at her friend.

  She offers me a small smile and holds out her hand. “I’m El.” She points to the blonde with her other hand. “And this firecracker is Sandy.”

  I nod, placing her slender hand inside mine for a brief shake. “Paul. Let me buy you ladies a something to drink.”

  After I buy us a round, Sandy and El join me and my friends on the other side of the bar. Sandy basically dominates the conversation and has us all roaring with laughter.

  She tells dramatic and ridiculous stories about plastic surgery patient requests and about the antics of her ex-girlfriends Chihuahua.

  El remains pretty quiet throughout the night, throwing back her drinks as quickly as they arrive. After an hour of sitting with us, she’s already pretty sloshed.

  Knocking back another drink, El jumps off her bar stool. She attempts to stand behind me, but ends up leaning against me pretty heavily instead. She slurs, “Do you want to go home with me?”

  My friends overhear and raise their eyebrows at her suggestion. Sandy smiles and makes a shooing motion paired with a huge, dramatic wink. I guess she approves of her friend leaving the bar with a stranger.

  I mull it over, she seems buzzed, but not blackout drunk in a way that she won’t remember this or is incapable of making decisions.

  “Yeah, let’s get out of here.” I finally respond, after thinking it over.

  I end up supporting most of her weight, as I half-carry her outside and we get into a taxi that’s waiting by the curb. She rattles out her address to the driver and then we’re off.

  During the drive, El leans against the inside of the cab door, not saying much.

  We haven’t exchanged many words with each other, she’s been silent for most of the night chugging liquor. I’m guessing she didn’t invite me over to talk though, so I’m not too worried about it.

  Once we enter her apartment, she slams the door shut and urgently kisses me. Before I can properly respond to her, she grabs my hand and tugs me into her bedroom.

  Without turning on the light, she rips her dress off her body and pulls me down to lay on the bed next to her. I can see her outline in the dim light of the moon seeping into the room.

  She has a banging body. Long legs lead up to curvy hips and a flat belly. She has two pert breasts that are the perfect handful, with rosy nipples that are straining towards me. Her skin is creamy and white, which complements her vibrant red hair that’s tangled around us.

  The next time she kisses me, I try to slow her franticness. I leisurely kiss at her lips, licking their seam, then sweep my tongue across the inside of her mouth. I raise my hand to start kneading her breasts, plucking at one of her nipples.

  She lets out a mew, which indicates that she’s enjoying my attention, but when I pull back to look at her, I notice liquid running down her cheeks. I’m momentarily confused until I realize that El is silently crying.

  Those are tears streaming down her cheeks and wetting her face.

  What the fuck?

  “Are you okay?” I ask, as I sweep my eyes down her body, checking for injuries. Trying to identify the reason she’s weeping while we’re making out.

  El shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut. I back off her and the bed, hovering on the edge instead.

  She stutters a few times, but finally says, “I’m so sorry. I’m not ready to do this yet.” She keeps crying and mumbles, “My boyfriend just dumped me on our anniversary.”

  My arousal died as soon as I saw that she was crying, but now I’m definitely not interested in El. She seems like a wreck.

  I try patting her shoulder a few times, but I’m not really sure what to do. She just keeps mumbling about him, I catch something about his pants are too tight, but it’s really hard to understand what she’s saying between all the tears.

  This has never happened to me before.

  After a few minutes, she seems to cry herself to sleep. I look around the floor to make sure I didn’t drop anything, I definitely don’t want to have to come back here in the morning.

  Before I leave, I decide to put a glass of water on the nightstand for El, for when she wakes up. I add a couple of ibuprofen I find in her cabinets while looking for a glass, for good measure.

  Then I silently let myself out her front door and head home.

  Chapter Three

  Eleanor

  I wake up the day after the club with a pounding headache. I have to squint my eyes against the bright sunlight flooding into my room though my open curtains.

  It takes a few minutes for me to figure out why I’m laying mostly naked in my bed. Once memories of the night before start flooding in, I groan from embarrassment. I wish last night never happened, or that I had at least gotten drunk enough to not remember that it did.

  Looking around, I try to see if there’s anything that indicates the man from Sins, Peter or maybe Paul, is still in my apartment. I don’t see any male clothing or belongings.

  D
uring my cursory look, I spot a glass of water and some aspirin on my nightstand. I pop the pills in my mouth and chug the entire glass of water to chase them down.

  Grabbing my robe off the back of my bedroom door, I creep on my tiptoes through each room in the apartment, double checking that I’m alone.

  I let out a sigh and my shoulders relax after I’ve cleared the place, finding that the guy from the club is gone. I’m relieved not to have to face guy-whose-name-starts-with-P this morning.

  I’m not surprised that he dipped out after I started crying while we were making out.

  I stand still in the hallway and scrub my face with both hands. To clear the sleep and hopefully the thoughts of last night.

  Sandy is right. I need to work on moving past Leo, I can’t let him affect my life more than he already has.

  Last night is a prime example. Leo is an ass and doesn’t deserve my time or thoughts. Yet alone the opportunity to ruin my night with a hot stranger.

  Maybe sleeping with strangers isn’t the answer, but I need to find some type of way to get back on the horse.

  It would probably be best to start with a date. One that doesn’t involve drinking or crying during sex.

  I am a strong independent woman, capable of being alone, but I’m also sexy and a fun companion. Being single for a while, or even playing the field, will be good for me.

  My words of self-encouragement help to fortify me and I head into my kitchen to start a pot of coffee with slightly more pep in my step.

  Once the black sludge of life is dripping into the coffee pot, I search around my apartment for my cell phone. I find it still in my clutch from last night, with a dead battery. Plugging it into my kitchen charger, I lean my hip against the counter, waiting for it to turn on.

  After it boots up, I’m notified that I have four texts from Sandy and a missed call from my mom. I skim through Sandy’s texts which range from “How was he?” to “Please text me that you’re not dead.”

  Deciding to call my mom later, it’s too early for her lecture about giving her grandkids, I pour myself a cup of coffee. I dial Sandy while I head to the couch.

  She answers with a “Hey girl, how was last night?”

  I can’t help but let out a groan and Sandy laughs on the other end.

  “That doesn’t sound good. What happened?”

  I let out a sigh, it’s like ripping off a band aid. Sandy will keep asking until I tell her, might as well just get it over with now. “I brought him back to my apartment and tried to start something sexy, but ended up bawling while I was naked in bed with him on top of me.”

  I can hear Sandy snorting through the phone, but ignore her to push through to the end of my story.

  “Shortly after I started crying, I must’ve passed out and when I woke up this morning, he was gone.”

  I remain silent while Sandy laughs loudly and lets out a few snorts. She doesn’t even attempt to speak for the first couple minutes, but she finally attempts to stop laughing. She covers a couple of giggles by pretending to clear her throat.

  I let out a huff. “Hey! Where’s my supportive best friend? Aren’t you supposed to tell me this isn’t so bad or something?”

  Sandy finally gets her laughter under control after she clears her throat a few more times. Her voice is considerably calmer when she responds. “Sorry.”

  Another chuckle slips out before she can continue. “I’m sure you’ll never see him again, so it really isn’t a big deal. And he could’ve been a total scumbag and stayed the night, attempting to fuck you even after the crying. There are some bright sides. You live and you learn.”

  I sigh, but agree.

  Despite the crude language, Sandy is usually able to offer decent perspective. She’s fun and spunky, but really down to earth and likes to put a positive spin on things. Instead of letting life get her down.

  By proxy she also spends quite a bit of time lifting my spirits as well.

  We exchange only a few more words before hanging up. Sandy answered my call in the parking lot to the gym and she needed to head inside for her spin class.

  I’ve never understood how Sandy can stay out all night drinking and then hit to gym the next morning. She’s been that way since I’ve known her. Able to party all night and still be a highly functional human the following day.

  Meanwhile, I can barely drag myself to the gym on my day off after twelve hours of sleep. But more power to her for her dedication to both the party lifestyle and her fitness.

  After ending my call with Sandy, I decide this weekend is the last time that I’m going to mope over Leo. Starting Monday, I go back to being a responsible adult that doesn’t sob on strangers.

  For the time being, I settle into the couch with my coffee and turn on the TV to watch reruns of Grey’s Anatomy. Despite the drama, the show is actually pretty accurate about life while working in a hospital.

  It’s one of my favorites and I let myself get lost in the eyes of McDreamy, barely moving from the couch all weekend.

  Once Monday rolls around, I wake up earlier than usual to give myself time to get ready for a solid fresh start.

  Although my weekend was rather unproductive, the time spent relaxing left me feeling refreshed and motivated. I barely moved from the couch, but I also didn’t cry all weekend.

  I focused on talking myself up about the future and I even started a dating profile. Part of my time on the couch was spent swiping through a couple dozen profiles of eligible men near me. Ones that could potentially be a good first date option to help me move past Leo the loser.

  Taking my time, I start a pot of coffee before getting dressed. It’s pretty standard to wear casual clothes to the hospital and change into scrubs before meeting your patients or starting an operation.

  With that thought in mind, I pull my hair into a sleek ponytail. Then I pull on some fitted jeans, and a light sweater.

  It’s a bit chilly outside according to my weather app, but I plan to walk to work this morning to test out the distance. Even if I start off a bit cold, I’m sure I’ll warm up once I get moving.

  Back in the kitchen, I fill up my travel thermos before throwing a banana into my purse.

  As I lock the door of my apartment behind me on my way out, I take a deep breath and exhale into a smile.

  Today starts the first day of my life as Eleanor 2.0. No more loser boyfriend, new and improved job, and most of all, no more crying on strangers during sex.

  Chapter Four

  Paul

  The sun is shining, the birds are chirping. I feel like shouting off the rooftop into the sky or serenading strangers.

  It’s the happiest Monday of all the Mondays. Today I start my new job, with my new assistant.

  No more crodgety, nagging, inept Molly as my right hand in the operating room. No more added work from incompetence. No more having to complete half of someone else’s tasks and triple check the other half to make sure that they’re done correctly.

  Life is good.No, life is excellent.

  I’m a thirty-three year old, attractive, virile male starting a new, lucrative position at a hospital. I’m living the life most men, and women, dream of.

  I grab a latte from my favorite coffee stand right down the street from my house, on my way to the hospital. When I arrive at my new building, I aim straight for to my new office. Pausing in the doorway, I survey my new digs.

  It’s a pretty standard office for a surgeon, with a desk, a bookshelf, a filing cabinet, a couch, and an attached bathroom. Nothing too fancy, but also nothing too different from my old hospital.

  Stepping inside, I hang my coat on the hook on the back of the door and place my backpack under my desk for easy access.

  There’s a folder waiting for me that provides instructions for logging into my computer. Once I pick it up to flip through it, I realize human resources left two folders on top of one another.

  The top one is for me and the bottom one is for my new assistant, “Eleanor Grey.”


  The folders each have instructions on how to log into the computer, and information about the locker rooms and cafeteria. They also contain a map of the hospital, which is convenient, as it’s much larger than where I was before.

  I shamelessly flip through Eleanor’s folder, trying to see if there’s a photo of her.

  The hospital conducted the interviews and hired her before I arrived. They offered to wait to allow my input, as I was still occupied with my previous position, but I felt it was best to start with someone on the same day. This way we can learn together and be added into the surgery rotation sooner.

  To my disappointment, there isn’t anything to indicate what my new assistant looks like. Despite that, I decide to wait by the elevators for her anyways, hoping to identify someone that looks equally new and a bit lost.

  I want to start my relationship with my new assistant off right. Past experience has shown a little bit of courtesy can go a long way, towards a great professional relationship.

  Five minutes prior to Eleanor’s start time, I head back over to the bank of elevators at the beginning of the floor.

  The doors to one of the elevators opens as I’m walking up and the sight they reveal causes my jaw to drop. Standing inside, talking to a man in scrubs, is El. The crying redhead from Friday night, El.

  She’s still gorgeous, maybe even more so in her casual clothes with a high ponytail, but her appeal has lessened now that I know she’s an emotional wreck. She finishes her conversation with the man in scrubs and gives him a small wave as she steps out of the elevator and into the hallway.

  El turns my direction. She stops dead in her tracks once her eyes land on my form, leaning against the wall a few feet down the hall.

  Her face drops and she looks like a deer caught in headlights. Her eyes shift right, then left, but there’s no one else around.

  The two of us stand for a few minutes in the otherwise empty area with our eyes locked together. I wonder why she’s here and if she’s about to turn around and step back into an elevator to leave. Her tense form indicates that’s what she’s thinking.