Grumpy Doctor Read online

  Watching him made me realize why everyone put up with his constant bad attitude.

  The man was incredible. It was a simple surgery, but without a doubt the most precise thing I’d ever seen. By the end, I didn’t even realize that I’d been standing for a couple hours, watching with my neck craned. He put the finishing touches on Mr. Short, they made sure he was stable, then wheeled him off to post-op recovery.

  Piers looked back at me as the nurses bustled around the room, closing things up. “What did you learn?” he asked.

  I stared at him, then blinked rapidly. “I don’t know,” I said stupidly, because I couldn’t choose one thing. There was so much I saw in that surgery, so many tiny things he did just perfect, and I knew that no matter what I did in my entire life, I’d never quite live up to what I just saw.

  He seemed disappointed. “Come on then,” he said, and we went into the prep room together. He scrubbed down and got changed and I joined him in the hall.

  Outside, he leaned up against the wall and I joined him, still buzzing from the experience of watching him work.

  “What did you see in there?” he asked, pressing me again.

  I opened my mouth to say something stupid, but then shut it again. The way he looked at me seemed to suggest that there was some correct answer—or maybe he was testing me somehow.

  “It was a stent procedure. You placed the—”

  “Not what I did,” he said, shaking his head. “What did you see?”

  I chewed on my lip, not sure how to answer that. It was like some Zen riddle or something, where I was supposed to find meaning in an otherwise meaningless statement. I saw a lot of things in there, and I wasn’t sure which was important.

  As I looked away, I saw the nurses bustling down the hall, and the way the younger girl moved made something click. I didn’t know why, but I thought of the way he’d opened Mr. Short up initially, that very first cut.

  “Economy of motion,” I said. “You’re precise. You never go too far.”

  He nodded, looking relieved, like somehow, I’d gotten it right. “Never too much, and never too little. That’s the trick in surgery. Anyone can learn the motions of a procedure and be able to get through it, but to do it perfectly, to only take as much as you need and never a bit more, that’s the trick. Too little is as bad as too much, but too much, that’s worse.”

  “How do you manage it though? Memorization? Practice?”

  “Practice,” he said. “Memorization doesn’t work. Every patient’s different, their bodies are slightly different, their skin thinner, or thicker, or more malleable. Every body’s the same, but every body has its own quirks, and it’s my job to assess those quirks on the spot.”

  “So you’re sort of like spot reading them.”

  “Right, if you want to use a musical metaphor. But metaphor only gets you so far. They don’t teach you this in med school because they don’t want to scare a bunch of perfectly passable surgeons away, but the fact is, learning the procedure is never enough. You need to learn to understand the variations between people, and how much you can take, before you can be good.”

  He pushed off the wall and began to walk away.

  I stood there, feeling dumbfounded and overwhelmed. It was like my first day of school again, except I was in the real world with real lives at stake, and I suddenly knew for certain that I was so far from ready.

  That man was a genius. An asshole, and a bastard, but holy hells. He was a genius.

  I hurried after him and trailed after in his wake. I almost wished I hadn’t seen that surgery back there—before it, he was just another asshole doctor. But now I understood that he was an asshole who could back it up.

  And maybe, just maybe, I could learn a lot from him.

  I knew I was smart. I knew I was skilled. I had good hands and good instincts, and I’d proved that to myself over and over in school. Now though, it was time to kick off the training wheels—and I was terrified I’d fall on my face.

  Nothing else I could do but try.

  4

  Piers

  I had to admit, I liked the way she looked at me.

  I knew what she thought: I was just another asshole doctor with an enormous ego and nothing to back it up. She heard the rumors that I was good, but she hadn’t sat in on one of my procedures and hadn’t seen what I could do. Afterward, the way she stared, shit, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t like it.

  There was admiration in her eyes.

  She was a smart girl. Her answer to my vague question afterward was impressive, and based on some of what I’d heard about her, maybe she wasn’t just some rich guy’s cousin after all. She might have potential, and though I’d never trained someone before, I felt like I was up to the task. And so, when I left her that day to do whatever it was she did when I didn’t bother giving her instructions, I sat in my office and decided I was going to do this for real.

  I’d train her, no bullshit. I’d teach her what I knew and make her the best surgeon in the place, or at least make her the best version of herself possible. There was only so much I could do at the end of the day.

  The next morning, I sent her down to do my laundry again while I prepped for my next surgery. After five minutes of going over my notes, there was a knock at the door. I swiveled around.

  “Are you back already?” I barked. “You separate the darks from the lights then—”

  Gina pushed open the door. “Excuse me?”

  I stopped and cleared my throat. “Hello, Gina,” I said.

  “Good morning, Piers.” She stood in my doorway, arms crossed over her chest. She could be a real pain in my ass, but she was my boss, and generally I got a lot of leeway from her. Most doctors my age didn’t have a nice office like I did and didn’t get to set their own hours. I even chose my own caseload, though not always the patients I took on. She had say in that, which was fine. Generally speaking, I didn’t much care who or what, so long as it was interesting.

  Still, after Nil Tippett—things had been tense between us.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I’ve gotten complaints.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I bet right now you’re frantically trying to remember who you’ve insulted recently.”

  “Actually, I sort of doubt that’s the problem here. If it were, you would’ve given me shit for it a while ago.”

  “Okay, you got me there.” She pursed her lips. “You’ve been making Lori do laundry.”

  “And?” I tilted my head. “Don’t residents get the worst jobs?”

  “She’s a smart girl, Piers. You could use her, you know.”

  I smirked a bit at that. If she only knew how I wanted to use pretty Lori.

  “I’m aware,” I said. “She sat in on a surgery yesterday. Impressed me afterwards.”

  An arched eyebrow from the boss. “Did she?”

  “I know you think I’m nothing more than an arrogant, cynical bastard.”

  “I certainly do.”

  “And you’re right. But I know a good doctor when I see one, and I think she’s got potential.”

  “So you’ll stop making her do laundry?”

  I snorted and shook my head. “Hell no. She’s doing my laundry until I say she can stop.”

  “The staff are complaining.”

  “Let them.” I swiveled back to my notes. “Can I do something else for you?”

  Gina drummed her fingers against the doorframe. “Just be careful,” she said. “The girl’s cousin is on the board. I’m sure you’ve been keeping that in mind.”

  “Oh, yes, of course, I’m constantly worried about the board and how it might reflect back on you.” I glanced over my shoulder and gave her a wolfish smile. “That all?”

  She went to say something, but gave me a frustrated look instead, then turned and left. I watched her go, wondering just how much pull that cousin had, and how bad things had to get before Gina started pr
essuring me. She could make my life harder, if she wanted to—hell, she already was.

  But it could always be worse.

  I got up and stalked down the hall, feeling annoyed. I didn’t want to have to deal with the damn resident all the time. I wasn’t a babysitter. I was supposed to be her teacher. Apparently though, Gina seemed to think I had to be up Lori’s ass constantly—and maybe, come to think of it, that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

  I found her in the maintenance closet, sitting on the dryer, reading a book. She seemed surprised when I came in, but didn’t bother to close it. Guess I shouldn’t have been surprised: she spent a lot of damn time down in this room, she might as well get some reading done.

  “You look busy,” I said.

  “Not at all. But that’s your fault.” She tilted her head. “You don’t normally come down here.”

  “I’ve been made aware that you’re causing a bit of a stir.”

  She closed her book and arched her eyebrow. That look again. Both her and Gina looked at me like I was the asshole here.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Cleaning staff keeps noticing you and complaining.”

  She laughed, seemed genuinely delighted. “I guess your boss said something?”

  “You guessed right.” I walked over to her and leaned up against the washing machine. Her legs were inches aware from me, but she didn’t move away. I noticed her ankles, thin and smooth, disappearing into her low socks and her comfortable shoes. Practical, smart, but somehow that small slip of skin made my stomach do flips. I looked back up at her. “We’ll have to do something about it.”

  “Maybe you could stop making me do laundry.”

  “But you’re so good at it.”

  She made a face. “Why are you like this?”

  “If you mean handsome and charming, I was born this way.”

  “I don’t.”

  “I’m not sure what to tell you then.” A short, tense silence as I studied her lips, her small nose, her ears, the way she nervously brushed hair from her face. “Maybe we can find another task for you.”

  “Something relating to my chosen field would be nice.”

  “And what field is that?”

  “Surgery,” she said. “Which is why I’m training with you. Or at least allegedly.”

  I nodded a little. “Why do you want to be a surgeon?”

  Her frown deepened and she didn’t answer right away. I expected the usual clichés: wanting to help people, wanting to make money, wanting to do something important, blah blah blah, the usual shit. Not that any of it was wrong, but it was all right, a little too right—a little too obvious.

  “I like the control,” she said, her voice soft. “Is that strange?”

  It was my turn to arch an eyebrow. “No,” I said. “But you’re not supposed to say it out loud.”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “I know it’s weird, okay? But ever since I was a little girl, I always wanted to be the one in the operating room. The one saving a life, the one standing between another person and maybe death, or whatever. I figured surgery was the most direct way to get there.”

  “I like puzzles,” I said.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Sorry, what?”

  “Physical puzzles, like Rubik’s Cubes, stuff that took dexterity and spatial reasoning. I was really, really good at puzzles like that, and I figured that surgery might be the perfect way for me to keep doing those puzzles, but to get paid for it. And I guess to help people too.”

  She let out a little breath, half laugh, half frustrated sigh. “I guess that makes you as weird as I am.”

  “No, it means that we’re in this for the right reasons. All those other surgeons that start out because they want to help people, they could go into any other field and do that same thing. We’re both surgeons because we like the act of surgery.” I put my hand on her thigh, meaning for it to be some reassuring, platonic gesture—but as soon as my fingers touched her leg, I looked up into her eyes, and I saw the expression on her face.

  It was surprise, mixed with something else, mixed with desire.

  I left my hand there, let it linger much longer than it should have, much too far up on her leg, much too close to that perfect, warm spot.

  “I hope you’re right,” she said, but didn’t pull away. “I mean, I want you. To be right, I mean.”

  I smiled slightly, and she blushed again. Goddamn, that was adorable.

  I finally moved my hand away. “Come on, we’ll have to find something for you to do.”

  “I’m not quite done in here yet,” she said, not meeting my eye. I couldn’t tell if she was upset about me touching her, or if her reaction had freaked her out. Either way, I couldn’t push this, even if I wanted to. There was a whole host of ethical implications and lines that I knew I shouldn’t cross, no matter how badly I wanted to.

  “Finish up then come find me.”

  “Where will you be?”

  “My office.”

  She nodded and hopped down off the machine. “All right. I’ll finish up.”

  I lingered for a moment then turned and left. I smiled as I walked out of there, thinking about the feeling of her leg beneath my fingers and the look of surprise, excitement, and a touch of shame that crossed over her face. I wondered if she’d give me that same look if I stripped off her shirt, her scrubs, got her down to nothing but her bare skin and showed her exactly how good I was with my hands.

  Affairs between doctors and nurses weren’t unheard of. Frankly, they were more common than people admitted. Even affairs between doctors happened.

  Less common were affairs between attendings and residents. There were just too many power dynamics involved, and the board tended to frown on that sort of thing.

  And I figured they’d hate it even more if I got involved with the cousin of one of their members.

  Hell, I couldn’t think like this. Barely an hour ago, she was nothing more than a passing thought—very attractive, probably smart, but not something that drew me closer.

  Touching her like that broke some kind of dam inside of me, and now I couldn’t let it go.

  I’d have to find some job that kept her far away from my office. Otherwise, I wasn’t sure if I could control myself.

  Funny, how I could be so controlled in the operating room—the master of my craft, working at the highest level possible—and yet have so little control over my own emotions.

  Frustrating, really.

  I never wanted to get involved, not with Lori, not with anyone. I was still reeling from Nil Tippett, and the idea of pursuing something more with a woman felt almost wrong, like I was moving on from a man’s death too quickly.

  And yet I couldn’t help myself.

  This was going to be a problem if I didn’t get it under control.

  5

  Lori

  Instead of doing laundry, Piers made me follow around the other surgical residents for the next two days.

  That was better at least. I thought maybe he’d take more of an interest in me—there was a moment, in that maintenance room, when he touched my leg and stood so close, and it felt like there was something between us, something difficult and messy and exciting, but he pulled his hand away and seemed to lose interest.

  The other surgical residents were good enough guys. I was the only girl in my cohort, of course. There were female surgeons, but not as many, and the guys loved to act like it was some kind of boys’ club.

  There were four of them, each a baby-faced post-med school grad just like me, except they had that strange jockishness to them, like they all played rugby, or polo, or one of those rich people sports.

  “What’s he like?” Omar asked me, a dark-skinned guy from New England with an incredible smile and a Rolex. “I mean, everyone talks about Dr. Hood, but I’ve never met the guy.”

  “Is he a total freak?” Greg asked. He was a classic New York Italian, complete with the accent. “For real, total freak?”

  “H
e’s difficult,” I said. We sat outside in the courtyard during our lunch break, picking at food. “He’s a genius though.”

  Milo grunted. “I bet you think that. I saw him the other day, dude’s like totally ripped and looks like a movie star.” Milo was a skinny kid from Texas with a big mouth and a hooked nose.

  “I hope you’re not suggesting what I think you are,” I said, glaring at him.

  He held up his hands. “Hey, don’t get pissed, just saying.”

  “Milo, you’re a moron.” The final member of the group was John. He looked like a lineman, but walked on his tiptoes, and had a slight lisp. “You realize you can’t say shit like that to your female colleagues, right?”

  “Whatever,” Milo said. “Not used to having female colleagues.”

  “Get used to it,” I said. “Believe it or not, some of us actually graduated top of our class.”

  Omar and Greg both laughed, and John gave me a big grin. Milo only rolled his eyes.

  “I’m just saying,” Milo went on, “the guy’s like a hunk. But he can’t really be as good as they say though.”

  “He is,” I said. “I sat in on a procedure, totally routine stent thing, and it was like watching Picasso paint.”

  “Come on,” Greg said. “You’re joking.”

  “I’m really not. Seriously, guys, that wasn’t my first surgery, but it was like a whole different level.”

  “I guess there’s a reason he gets away with being a crabby asshole,” Omar said, stroking his chin. “If he’s really that good.”

  “I hear he has a waitlist two months long,” Greg said.

  “Three months,” John corrected. “And I checked. That’s true.”

  “So are you learning anything?” Milo asked. “I mean, why the hell are you here with us?”