Doctor Baby Daddy (My Baby Daddy Book 2) Read online

  Doctor Baby Daddy

  BB Hamel

  Contents

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  1. Melody

  2. Gavin

  3. Melody

  4. Gavin

  5. Melody

  6. Gavin

  7. Melody

  8. Gavin

  9. Melody

  10. Gavin

  11. Melody

  12. Gavin

  13. Melody

  Also by BB Hamel

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 by B. B. Hamel

  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.

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  1

  Melody

  “Have you seen our resident? Holy shit, talk about hot. I mean, I hear he was the youngest resident, like, ever? And I totally believe it. Look at that guy…”

  I tune the girl out, this pretty blonde girl with wide blue eyes. Her name’s Tracy, and she’s super nice, but I can’t listen to her right now. I’m staring down at the teal floor, rubbing my comfortable shoes against the grime caked on there and wondering how often they clean this place, and really, they should be cleaning every day, and oh my god, what if I can’t hack this, and what if I can’t live up to all the standards I put on myself and…

  I’m basically shaking. I mean, I think I might puke. I’m standing in a hospital corridor behind some desks with a group of interns, waiting for our resident to stop talking with the nurses and to give us the time of day, and I’m so nervous I think I might seriously be sick. I can’t stop my brain from running in circles.

  I try to concentrate on the floor. Teal, dirty, tile. Simple, nothing bad here.

  I’ve never felt like this before. All through undergrad, through med school, I never got nervous. I was good at it, actually. Graduated top of my class, left with some great scores and great recommendations, and landed at Jefferson Hospital to do my intern year before starting my residency. All through school, I kept myself together, was cool and calm and collected, mostly because I had to be.

  See, here’s the thing. Med school is like the Hunger Games, except with fewer women. Everything I did was under a microscope. I had to be faster and smarter and better than my male counterpoints, because, obviously. If I wanted any attention, any recommendations, anything at all, I had to be better than just good. I had to be absolutely great.

  I worked my butt off. I tried harder than I ever tried before, and it paid off. It got me here and I should be so happy.

  Instead, I’m just a nervous wreck.

  I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s our resident, this guy named Gavin Scott. Tracy isn’t kidding when she says he’s handsome.

  He’s absolutely gorgeous. Chiseled body, face with just the right amount of stubble, light green eyes that I could get lost in, and these lips that looks like soft pillows. I want to run my hands through his hair, thick hair, and find out exactly how much he knows about the female body.

  Or maybe it’s just the fact that I’m actually in a hospital and I’ll be learning on real, live patients.

  Finally, Dr. Scott pulls himself away from the nurse, looking grim as he walks over to our group. He’s wearing a white coat, dress shirt, stethoscope dangling casually around his neck, his hands absently playing with a file clasped between them. There are ten of us, each one of us straight out of med school, doing a single internship year before we take on our own residency. Basically, the residency is when we can practice medicine without supervision but we’re still in training for a specialty.

  Right now though, we’re the bottom of the barrel, the lowest of the low. And the way Dr. Scott’s looking at us, I’m pretty sure he thinks that, too.

  “Good morning, interns,” he says, his voice like deep butter.

  “Good morning,” we say in unison like freaking schoolchildren. I can’t help but wince.

  But he smirks. “Glad to see you’re all chipper today. How many of you did well in your classes?”

  The question seems to make everyone balk for a moment. I know for a fact that if we’re all standing here in this hospital right now, we all did well back in med school, although nobody expected him to ask about it right now.

  But this isn’t medical school anymore. This is the internship year, and it’s about to get really, really real. I don’t see why he cares about grades, unless…

  I raise my hand. “I did well,” I say.

  He smiles sweetly. “Good. One of you is brave, at least.” He clears his throat. “Unfortunately, nobody gives a shit how well you kids did in school.”

  I sigh and put my hand down. I kind of figured that’s what he was aiming at. I glance at Tracy and she gives me a quick sympathetic frown.

  “Here’s a fact,” Dr. Scott says quietly. “You’re all smart, motivated, driven individuals. You wouldn’t be standing in front of me if you weren’t. But being smart and being driven and being a good doctor aren’t the same fucking thing. Do you all understand that?”

  Silence. Utter and total. I stare at our resident and I wonder if he’d be upset if I puked on his shoes. His perfect black shoes attached to that gorgeous freaking body…

  Probably.

  “See, being a doctor is more than just being book smart. You still need to know things, and I’ll test that. But you have to be able to think on your feet. You have to be able to react.” His green eyes land on mine. “What is the cupola?”

  I hesitate, blinking, mind running through my anatomy lessons. I know this, it’s not even a tough question, it’s just those green eyes and blank face staring at me, the shaking in my hands…

  “Well?” he snaps, barely giving me time.

  “It’s the pleura covering the base of the lung,” I blurt out.

  He sighs. “Wrong.” His eyes move to Tracy. “What is it?” he asks her.

  “It’s the parietal pleura over the top of the lung.”

  He grunts and nods. “Good.” He glances back at me, a little frown on his face, before appraising the group. “I’m going to be drilling your knowledge every day, so expect that sort of thing from now on. Getting questions wrong isn’t going to be held against you, but it is going to illuminate something very, very important.” He stares at us for what feels like a freaking eternity and yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m about to finally hurl.

  “It’ll show me whether you have it or not.”

  He turns away from us.

  “Now, let’s go.”

  Without another word, Dr. Scott starts walking.

  The group hesitates. Tracy gives me another sympathetic frown and a nod before pulling herself forward and following our resident as he speeds through the hall.

  I hesitate a second. I’m still shaking, but something else is starting to push through me.

  Anger, white hot and real.

  I have what it takes. I hate that the bastard just suggested that I don’t. So I’m nervous on my first day, so what? I got one stupid question wrong, one stupid little quiz crap that isn’t even that important. I mixed up the top and the bottom of the lung, it’s not that big of a deal.

  But I hate myself for doing it. I’m better than that. I don’t freeze up, I don’t freak out. Now he’s going to think I’m some kind of moron.

  Some small part of me wants to turn away. That small part wants to run back to my apartment and hide under the
covers. But I’ve spent a lot of time and energy making sure that small part of me isn’t in control anymore, and so I move forward, catching up to the group a few seconds later and falling in.

  Tracy is the only other girl. The other eight people are all men. I don’t know their names yet, but I’ll learn them soon enough. Some of them are even pretty cute.

  But none of them are even remotely as handsome as Dr. Scott, and that’s the truly frustrating part of all this. Because as much as I want to hate that smirking bastard, I have to admit that he’s absolutely freaking gorgeous.

  The rest of the day is a blur of walking and talking. Dr. Scott disappears into rooms, deals with a patient, and more or less ignores us as much as possible. Sometimes, he shoots a question at the group, and only a few speak up. I even manage to answer a couple of them right, earning a slight nod the second time.

  He gives us a tour of the hospital, introduces us to staff and nurses and other doctors, but basically he goes about his rounds, checking on patients, consulting with colleagues, and doing his normal routine.

  We sit back and we observe. That sounds boring, but it’s actually pretty exhausting. I’m used to being on my feet all the time but Dr. Scott doesn’t slow down. He plows forward constantly, walking fast, talking fast, throwing out orders, practically barking them at people. But nobody seems to bat an eye and nurses are constantly smiling and saying hello, even when he only grunts in return.

  By the end of the day, I’m a total wreck. I find myself sitting outside, my back to the wall, knees pulled up to my chest, wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.

  I know I’m prepared for this. Years of class, training, all that stuff. I’m ready for my intern year, and it’s not like I’ll be doing procedures alone. We’re not allowed to practice without supervision, which means Dr. Scott’s going to be there to oversee absolutely everything I do.

  I’m not sure if that’s supposed to make me feel better or what.

  “How was your first day?”

  I nearly jump out of my skin. I look up to find Dr. Scott looking down at me, wearing a leather jacket and a backpack slung over a shoulder. He cocks his head, squinting a little bit.

  “Fun,” I manage to say.

  He laughs. “I bet.”

  “Is it always like that?”

  He hesitates a second before walking over and sitting down next to me. He doesn’t say anything at first, just shifts himself and lets out a soft sigh, putting his backpack on the ground next to him.

  “I’m sorry I gave you shit this morning,” he says finally. “About that question.”

  I shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “I know. But the first day is hard, and the first question is hardest.”

  “I guess you could’ve been…”

  I trail off. He arches an eyebrow, a little smile on his lips. “What, nicer?”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “Maybe,” he grunts. “Would that have really helped?”

  “I guess not.”

  He stands up suddenly, his eyes bright. “Come with me.”

  “Uh, what?”

  “Come on.” He slings his bag over his shoulder again.

  I hesitate but stand. “Hold on, Dr. Scott,” I say as he’s turning away.

  He laughs. “Call me Gavin. And come on.”

  I hesitate a second but quickly follow him into the afternoon crowd. The sidewalk is packed with people leaving work and I have to hurry to keep up with him as he strides purposefully through the crowds.

  I keep looking up at him, my eyes roaming his features, his arms, his hands. I keep wondering what he’s seen, what he’s done. He’s way too gorgeous to be just another doctor, and yet here he is, a doctor anyway.

  We go a block, turn a corner, and cross the street before ending up outside of this little rundown-looking door. It has the words “PALETTE” written in black paint along the center and he pushes it open.

  I follow him into the smallest, dingiest bar I’ve ever seen in my life. There’s barely enough room for the people shoved in there. He moves through the crowd toward the back before we sit down at the very end of the bar.

  This old man comes over, his hair totally white. “Haven’t seen you in here in a bit,” he says, wiping a glass. “Whatcha need?”

  “Whiskey,” Gavin says, and glances at me. “Same for her.”

  The bartender nods and walks off.

  “I’m not much of a drinker,” I say to Gavin.

  He shrugs. “Yeah, I’m not either. Being on call makes that pretty hard. But trust me, one drink’ll help.”

  The bartender comes back with our glasses and Gavin slips him some money. The guy shakes his head. “You know you don’t need to do that here, doc.” He walks off to take another order and Gavin sighs.

  “Why won’t he let you pay?” I ask him.

  “Diagnosed him with pancreatitis a few years back,” he says. “Treatment went well. He thinks I saved his life.”

  “Did you?”

  “Maybe. If he keeps exercising and stays sober.”

  I sigh a little and take a sip. It’s hard and biting but I have to admit, it tastes good. “Is it always like that?” I ask him. “Never a sure thing?”

  “More or less,” he admits. “You’re going to see a lot of shit in there, and a lot of it won’t be great. But sometimes, something good will happen. And when it does…” He trails off and stares into his glass before smiling at me. “Well, when it does, you take the free fucking drinks.”

  He winks and throws back half the glass with a laugh. I grin at him and take another sip, feeling the warmth spread through my gut.

  “So, tell me about yourself,” he says casually, a little smile on his lips, and I find myself talking.

  I tell him about growing up poor. I tell him about being a med student, about working hard. I tell him about living in the city all alone, my parents out in the Midwest still. I tell him about moving to Philadelphia to try and start over.

  Finally I finish talking just as he finishes his drink. “Gotta admit, you sound like me,” he says.

  “I doubt it. Weren’t you the youngest resident… ever?”

  He grunts at that. “Yeah. I was. But I mean the Midwest stuff, coming out here to start over, all that.”

  “How’d you do it?” I ask him softly.

  He glances at me. “What do you mean?”

  “Starting over. You look like you have it together.”

  “I do, mostly.” He laughs again. “But it wasn’t easy. I was just a kid when I left home. Finished school early and got picked up pretty fast and I guess… I just never left.”

  “Huh.” I bite my lip. I can feel the alcohol swirling in my stomach. He asks for two more drinks and they appear. I pick it up, sipping the biting stuff, and he smiles at me.

  I don’t know how long we sit there talking. He’s so handsome and surprisingly nice, at least outside of the hospital. I slowly lose my intimidation, my fear, and just start to see him as any other guy.

  A really, really hot guy, but still.

  It’s dark when we finish our second drinks and walk back out onto the street. He sighs and looks up at the sky.

  “Back at it tomorrow,” he says, glancing at me sidelong. “You going to be up for it?”

  I shrug. “I think so.”

  “You’ll be fine, Mel.” He steps toward me suddenly. “You have a damn good teacher.”

  I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just the residual nerves still jumping through my skin, but I don’t step away from him. I want him to get closer, and I find myself looking up into those gorgeous eyes, lingering there, drinking them in.

  “What can you teach me?” I ask him softly.

  “Everything,” he says, grinning.

  And leans forward to kiss me.

  I kiss him back, almost hungry for his lips. I can’t believe it’s happening but I’m too startled and into it to stop. He tastes good, a little like w
hiskey and a little like freshly cut grass. He pulls me against him, kissing me hard, before we slowly break apart.

  He grins at me and I swear my whole body melts. “I should go,” he says. “Before I do something stupid.”

  “Kissing one of your interns isn’t stupid?”

  “Oh, no. That was stupid.” He leans closer, lips against my ear. “But taking you home and fucking you until you screamed my name would be worse.”

  I take a sharp breath as he pulls back. I can feel my heart racing and god, yes, I want him to do that. I want him to make me sweat, make me work. I want to satisfy my teacher, my doctor. I want to make him happy. I’ll do anything just to feel him deep between my legs.

  But he gives me one more smirk before turning and walking away. He leaves me there, soaking wet and trembling again, this time with desire.

  I watch him go and wonder how the hell this even happened, how the hell I ended up here like this.

  “Oh, shit,” I whisper.

  This is crazy. This is bad. I have to work with him tomorrow and we just kissed. He just told me he wants to fuck me. It’s so inappropriate I can barely stand it.

  But god, I want it anyway.

  2

  Gavin

  I wake up early, get in my normal run, and shower before the sun rises.

  Fucking hell. I keep thinking about that intern, Melody. I keep thinking about those big brown eyes and her thick, dark hair, and her lips that were begging to be kissed. That was so stupid, kissing her like that, whispering to her like that, but I couldn’t help myself.

  I’d been watching her all day, watching her move, watching her work. She has this strange grace about her that’s almost alien and beautiful. When I found her sitting outside, I couldn’t help myself. I had to sit down with her, bring her over to Palette, and do something incredibly fucking stupid.