Rules of Their Fake Florida Fling
Auteur
Juliette Hyland
Lezers
18,8K
Hoofdstukken
16
CHAPTER ONE
“YOU REALIZE THREE other surgeons have turned this case away?”
“They weren’t me.” Dr. Asher Parks shrugged as he looked at the head of the surgery department, Dr. Levern. Asher wasn’t bragging—not really. Just being honest.
He was the best neurosurgeon at Mercy General. The best in Orlando, Florida...one of the best in the nation. He knew his skill set.
He’d chosen neurosurgery because it was complicated. In the academic world nearly everything had come easily...again not a brag, just a fact. Neurosurgery offered a challenge so many other things didn’t. And Asher loved a challenge.
This surgery was difficult...some had said impossible. An operation most neurosurgeons wouldn’t touch, and this was a competitive field. But it was a challenge Asher could meet; he was certain of it.
“A tumor in the spinal cavity. Definition of unlucky.” Dr. Levern flipped through the images on the tablet, clicking his tongue at the results.
Asher felt his nose scrunch and intentionally leaned back. It was unlucky. Statistically, nearly impossible. He understood this line of work required at least some compartmentalization of emotions. Dr. Levern didn’t mean anything by the throwaway comment, but there was a person on the other end of that “unlucky.”
Jason Mendez. Twenty, barely more than a teenager, with a full life in front of him. He should be worrying about college, or starting a career, or dating. There were so many things one looked forward to at twenty, before adult realities sneaked in. A tumor had ripped that “normal” away.
Unlucky indeed.
“It’s grown by three centimeters in the last six months.” Asher rocked back on his heels, trying to keep the frustration at bay. A tumor in the spinal cavity was dangerous. The surgery would take at least six hours, assuming everything went well. Three other surgeons had looked at the location of the tumor and told the patient to prepare for the end.
But Asher wasn’t ready to concede to the fates. Jason knew the risks, knew that a single slip could paralyze him. Knew that if the tumor had any attachments not currently seen on the images, removing it completely might not be possible. Since it was cancerous, that would buy him time, but not forever.
Jason understood he might not make it through the surgery. That was always a risk, but, when dealing with neurosurgery, the risks were even higher. Still, as Jason had told him, he was already under a death sentence. May as well give it a go.
And Dr. Asher Parks was more than willing to give it a go. In fact he planned to do this flawlessly. Perfection!
Dr. Levern clicked his tongue again. It was a tell every surgeon in the hospital knew. It meant the head of surgery was leaning toward yes and trying to convince himself it was the right choice.
“Think of the prestige the hospital will get for doing this.” Asher kept his voice upbeat even though the words tasted like dirt. He hated it that hospitals took prestige into their calculation matrix for high-risk cases. He may have chosen medicine because it was a challenge, but saving lives was supposed to be the purpose.
And it was for most doctors. But hospital administration was a different beast. All spreadsheets, profit margins and dividends. Unfortunately that was the beast Dr. Levern had to answer to.
“You’ll write a paper? Answer any questions, if they’re asked? Interviews, if necessary.”
“Of course.” Asher could see the mental calculations of at least a hospital-organized local press release and a medical journal publication coalescing into the affirmative. It shouldn’t matter, but that wasn’t the way life worked. And for his patients, he’d do anything.
“And you’ll have to have the best team for this. They’ll need to sign off on participating.” He tapped a pen against his desk. “It’s high risk and...”
“Understood.” Asher wanted to pump his fist, but he kept his pose professional. This was going to be approved. Jason would get the surgery, and Asher would wield the scalpel. If anyone balked, well, most of the hospital owed him at least one favor for stepping out on a limb for them.
“That includes Dr. Miller.” Dr. Levern handed him back the tablet.
“Of course.” This reply was more subdued, but Asher kept the smile on his face. “Dr. Miller and I get along fine.” That was a bit of a stretch, but Dr. Levern didn’t push him on it.
Leaving Dr. Levern’s office, Asher went in search of Rory Miller. Better to talk to her before word trickled out. He might need a bit of time to get her on his side.
He and Rory tolerated each other. They worked well together, but their personalities were diametrically opposed. He was a jokester, had to find some way to expel the stress, while she was commonly called the Rock of Mercy. She was great at her job, cared about her patients. Listened.
And the woman never flinched, never worried in surgery, never showed any emotion.
Unless it was annoyance with Dr. Parks! They’d lived next to each other for almost five years, worked together for six, and yet he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the woman smile.
Not that he hadn’t tried. It was his secret personal project. Six years with no success, every attempt expertly rebuffed. All work and no play for the Rock. But Asher was persistent. One day he’d find the crack...
He’d met the anesthesiologist at the new-employee orientation. Sitting next to the fiery redhead with piercing green eyes should have been the highlight of his morning. Their safety presentation had been drier than dry. The monotone of the instructor made most of the assembled employees yawn.
He’d leaned over and made some joke...something lost to the fog of time now. And Rory had looked horrified; that he hadn’t forgotten. Her jade eyes flashing as she shook her head. The drop of his stomach as the beautiful doctor judged him...and found him lacking.
He still recalled her explanation regarding safety and patient care that had tumbled from her lips. All of which he’d agreed with! It was the delivery he was poking fun at, but the damage was done.
He enjoyed the laugh, enjoyed making people smile. But sometimes jokes fell flat, and you moved on. He was fun, easy to get along with, according to the rest of the staff, but around Dr. Rory Miller he put his foot his mouth. All his jokes, his smiles, had no effect on the Rock of Mercy. If Rory had her way, the operating theater would be quiet. Formal. Sterile in attitude not just germ-free.
They simply had different ideas of what professional meant. Rory was stoic. Asher, over-the-top expressive. She made quiet remarks about a patient’s status. He joked about the day and chatted sports. And he enjoyed hard rock in the theater. It relaxed him.
Sure, most of the surgeons chose something a little less heavy. Dr. Stevens loved Vivaldi...classical. Asher personally hated when he controlled the music. Dr. Trent preferred country music. Asher was pretty sure she’d wear leather boots in the theater if she could get away with it.
But it was his attitude: “flippant” was the description Rory used. And she was right. Asher was chatty, jovial even, in the OR. No matter the case.
He’d learned at a young age that life didn’t guarantee anyone tomorrow. A brain aneurysm stole his mother while she was in the downward dog position at her regular Tuesday yoga class. That was the other reason his surgical knife was trained in brain surgery. He saved more than he lost. But even he, with all his skill, couldn’t hold off the Reaper each time.
So Asher made jokes. He smiled and laughed as much as possible. Frowns never crossed his face, even when he was dying inside. After all, it was better to laugh than cry.
“I hate not being able to help Dr. Miller.” Nurse Sienna Garcia’s words caught Asher’s ears.
Anything to up his chances of getting in good with Dr. Miller, he’d try. A trade for a trade. She’d never made one before...but there was a first time for everything.
“What does she need help with?” Asher leaned against the nurses’ station, offering his best smile. He watched the heat dance into Sienna’s cheeks and offered a wink. “I can be very helpful.”
“She’s looking for a date to a wedding.” Sienna returned his smile.
“And we’re all aware of how helpful you can be, Dr. Parks,” Angela, the head nurse stated as she nudged Sienna’s hip with hers.
He and Angela had dated for six weeks, two years ago. Or was it three? They’d parted on well enough terms, but the experience had reminded him why he tried to keep his dating and professional life separate. A lesson his younger self had not realized until he’d earned a bit of a reputation as the hospital playboy.
He’d been single for over a year and hadn’t dated anyone at the hospital since Angela, but reputations once earned...
Sienna walked off, and Asher turned his attention to Angela. “A wedding date? That seems simple enough.” Rory was gorgeous; anyone attracted to women couldn’t fail to notice her curly red hair, toned legs and freckles dotting her nose. She was also brilliant and at the top of her field. Maybe she didn’t smile or laugh, but surely a wedding date would be easy enough for her. If she’d only relax a little, she’d be the definition of a complete package.
“That is what she said.” Angela nodded, but he could see a look in her eye. Something unsaid...
“Come on, Ang. There has to be more to it than just a wedding date.”
Angela crossed her arms, the giant engagement ring twinkling on the necklace she wore. He was happy for her. Marriage wasn’t for him. He’d come close once. And lost his fiancée and best friend in the process. Kate and Michael had been divorced now longer than she and Asher had dated, but he’d learned his lesson.
He did six weeks of fun, something all his partners knew up front. Six weeks, enjoy the attraction and get out before anything deeper developed. Deep feelings lead to love, and love leads to heartbreak. And heartbreak was never on the table for Asher Parks.
However, he was genuinely happy when others found a life partner.
“I am sure there is, but all she asked was if we knew anybody who might be willing to escort her to her sister’s wedding.”
“Escort?”
“That was the word she used.” Angela bit her lip as she looked toward the on-call suite. “I wish I had someone to set her up with. She asks for so little. Actually, Rory asks for nothing. She’s the one doctor that never demands anything.”
Asher held up his hands. “I know we are all imperfect sods.”
“You said it,” Angela chuckled.
“I bet I could be free to escort, Dr. Miller.”
Angela’s chuckle turned into a full-blown belly laugh. “Make me a promise. Let me be there when you ask. I’d love to see the Rock’s reaction to the playboy’s offer.”
Asher kept the playful smile on his face while holding a hand over his chest in pretend wounded pride. “I’m a great date.”
Angela nodded. “For a short time, you certainly are.” Then she grabbed a tablet and walked into a patient’s room.
Asher let the feelings Angela’s statement raised wash through him then let them go. She’d wanted a family, marriage, the whole white-picket dream. And he hoped she got that with her fiancé. But that was not a life Asher ever saw for himself.
Rocking on his heels, he headed toward the consult room dedicated for on-call surgeons. He, Rory and Dr. Petre were the on-call surgical staff for tonight. With any luck Rory would be catching up on paperwork or just resting. Though he wasn’t sure Rory ever really rested. The woman seemed to be always on the go.
Stepping into the consult area, he was glad to find no sign of Dr. Petre.
“Dr. Miller, how are you this evening?”
Rory’s eyes met his, and she sighed as she leaned back in her chair. “I’m fine, Dr. Parks. Just getting a little paperwork done.”
Her intonation was flat, no invitation for further conversation. But that was a minor roadblock. Offering his best smile, he started again. “Paperwork is my least favorite part of the job. Perhaps if tonight is quiet, I’ll take your lead and get some of it done. We could push paper together.”
“Everything is digital now—no pushing paper, Dr. Parks.”
Another humor arrow falling yards short of the target. Surely Rory thought something was funny? “Besides, if Ang heard you make that statement, she’d tell you that you just cursed the surgical team.” Then she turned back to her paperwork.
Conversation over for the Rock, except he wasn’t ready to let it go.
“And you don’t think I did?” Part of him had cringed when the words exited his mouth. He wasn’t overly superstitious, yet such statements did seem to upset the universe. But he wanted to know if Rory was superstitious. They’d been colleagues for years, and he’d never figured that out.
Rory didn’t look up from her papers. “You either did or didn’t. Those are the only options, Dr. Parks.”
“Interesting phrasing.” With no insight! Asher took the seat across from her desk and hated the annoyed expression as she pushed her computer glasses up on her head and stared at him.
“Out with it, Dr. Parks.”
“Asher.” He grinned. Rory kept a professional distance from all her colleagues, but for this to work he needed to be Asher. After all, you didn’t call your dancing partner by their title.
Rory folded her hands and kept her gaze trained on him.
“I heard you need a date to a wedding.”
Rory pursed her lips and color flushed her pale cheeks. A genuine reaction! Though he wished the first time he’d managed something besides annoyance it was anything other than embarrassment. She closed her eyes, and when she reopened them, she shook her head.
“I do. But no, thank you.”
“You haven’t even heard my pitch yet.” Asher started to lean toward the desk but pulled back. He wasn’t trying to invade her space.
“I don’t need to hear your pitch, Dr. Parks.”
Her green eyes met his and there was a hint of something in them, or maybe that was just wishful thinking.
“Asher,” he reminded her.
Rory looked at him. Really looked at him, and it took all Asher’s willpower not to shift under her scrutiny. Dr. Rory Miller was the Rock of Mercy...but she was also devastatingly gorgeous.
Curly red hair, green eyes, freckles for days. She looked like she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine. But with a surgical cap containing the red hair, and her focus trained on the host of machines keeping a patient comfortably sedated during surgery, she was a force to be reckoned with. A force he loved having with him in the operating room, even if she was too quiet and serious.
“What do you want, Asher?” She nodded to the tablet in his lap. “You may as well ask.”
He looked at the tablet and hated the resignation in her voice. Hated that she was right.
“I have a patient with a tumor in his spine.”
Rory’s head lifted as Asher pulled up the chart on his tablet and slid it across the desk. “Three other surgeons turned him away.”
“But they aren’t you.”
He couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face. It was a compliment, and the Rock didn’t do compliments lightly. “That is exactly what I told Dr. Levern.”
She tapped a few things on the chart, and he saw her lips tighten. “I’ve worked with you for six years, Dr. Parks. You think you can tackle anything.”
That was not a compliment. “I’m usually right.” He winked but she didn’t see it.
“There is a reason that god-complex stereotype exists with surgeons...particularly neurosurgeons.” She flipped through a few more screens, shaking her head as each image passed. “This is a ten-hour surgery, Asher. At least.”
“If it’s neatly enclosed it’s six...but it could be as long as ten.”
“And the outcome is—”
“The outcome is that Jason gets to go home cancer free. Walking, full use of everything.” Asher crossed his arms. He knew all the risks but focusing on them was a recipe for disaster. There were moments for caution and moments for full-on hope. He was choosing hope, even knowing the odds.
She handed him back the tablet. “Send me all the information. I will take a look and schedule an appointment with Jason. But—” Rory paused as she looked at him, clearly weighing her words.
Once again, Asher barely resisted the urge to shift as she looked at him. “But...?” he offered as the silence filled the room. The heaviness of unstated words hovering between them.
“But—” Rory tilted her head “—there is a reason three other surgeons told Jason no.” She held up her hand. “I know how good you are. But that doesn’t change the odds dramatically. Even with the best, which you are, the odds for full success here are still well under fifty percent.”
“Well, I think with you running the anesthesia and me handling the scalpel, we can get it well above fifty percent.” Asher stood. “And I will be a great date for the wedding.”
Rory pulled her hand across her face as she turned back to her computer. “I didn’t agree to the surgery, and I do not trade personal favors for patients.”
“I know, but I don’t mind going. I mean, if you don’t want to go alone, I’m better than nobody.” It was a ridiculous argument, and Asher wasn’t sure why he was intent on making it. Rory had agreed to look over the patient file, which was what he’d sought her out for.
But Angela’s words rang so clear in his mind. Rory asks for nothing. It was true. For her to ask, she must really not want to attend alone.
“Or you could just not go,” Asher offered. “I mean, claim that you had an important surgery. We could even make that happen, depending on when the wedding is.”
Rory kept her attention focused on the computer. “It’s my sister’s wedding, Asher. I’m a bridesmaid. Not going isn’t much of an option.” She bit her lip, and he suspected that she hadn’t meant to tell him that. “Send me the patient file.”
“I—” His pager went off as the mobile on her hip rang.
“Dr. Miller,” Rory answered, “Dr. Parks is with me. What’s the emergency?”
He mouthed, “Thank you,” as she jotted on the notepad.
Thirty-eight-year-old female. Brain aneurysm. Being prepped now.
Brain aneurysm. Thirty-eight-year-old female. The words cooled all the jokes. Aneurysms were silent killers. If you were lucky enough to get to the hospital your odds went up, but twenty-five percent of patients still passed in the first twenty-four hours. Like his mother.
As a neurosurgeon he’d done this surgery many times, and it never got easier to perform.
“We are on our way.”
Before Asher could ask any questions, Rory started, “It’s unruptured. She came in complaining of the worst headache she’d ever had. An intern in ER rushed an MRI—guess he saw symptoms often overlooked in triage. You want her awake for the clipping?”
A little of the stress leaked from him. Unruptured, the odds of success went up dramatically!
Studies had found that patients who were awake for the part of the procedure where the doctor was clipping the affected blood vessels had significantly better outcomes. Patients were completely asleep for the first part of the procedure, where part of their skull was removed, then woken so the surgeon could ask questions and make sure they were doing as little damage as possible to the brain.
But in an emergency one didn’t always have that luxury.
“Yes,” Asher stated, his mind already focusing on the brain and the procedure. But he was not done trying to convince Rory to let him take her to the wedding.
Dr. Rory Miller watched the many monitors that were tracking Tabitha Osborn’s breathing, heart rate and brain waves. This was an emergency surgery, but it still took time to make sure her patient was fully asleep, unable to feel the cuts the team would soon be making.
“She out?”
Rory could hear the urgency in Dr. Parks’s voice. Brain aneurysms were incredibly dangerous, but she’d never met a surgeon who didn’t like to operate. And neurosurgery was a highly competitive field, so the ones that made it through the ridiculous, burnout-inducing residency loved the role even more.
Rory kept her eyes on the monitors and held up a thumb. All her monitors read right, but there were rare cases when a patient appeared sedated, but their pain receptors were still active. Rory had never run across it, but she’d listened to a lecture once where a patient described feeling the reconstruction on their leg following a car crash. Despite a successful surgery the individual had struggled for years to overcome the fear the incident produced.
Because patients were given a paralytic to keep their muscles from reacting, they couldn’t move if the worst happened. Only minor indications in breathing and heart rate changes would be noticeable. The odds of anesthesia awareness occurring were less than one in one thousand cases, but she always monitored for it—just in case.
“Yes. She’s out.” She kept her eyes on the monitors but mentally prepared herself for the rock music that Dr. Parks preferred.
She hated heavy rock. It wasn’t Asher’s fault, but it was the music that her ex-fiancé, Landon, had preferred when he operated. Her ex-fiancé...and her sister’s current fiancé.
Landon hadn’t walked down the aisle with her, but he seemed much more inclined to walk it with Dani. Dani, her dramatic pediatrician sister. He was marrying her sister even though he’d claimed Rory was too emotional. She’d had one bad day at the hospital when they were both interns, him in general surgery and her in anesthesia.
A bad day. That was the wrong descriptor for a day when she’d lost a good friend and colleague, Heather. That hadn’t kept him from calling her a cry baby. It was the final break in their already tense relationship.
And then he’d started dating Dani when he joined her father’s surgical practice. Well, openly started dating her sister. They’d had an affair earlier. One they’d refused to acknowledge when Rory let them know she was aware of their secret.
And now she was supposed to be a bridesmaid. To act like none of it bothered her. Act like their betrayal was fine.
Acting like nothing bothered her was a skill she’d honed as a child. The only person who ever managed to get under her skin was the one currently holding the scalpel. She had to work hard to act unimpressed by his antics. Dr. Rory Miller did not break, but when Asher offered jokes or needled her, she wanted to. And for that reason she kept her distance from him as much as possible. It was easier to withstand his magnetism when she wasn’t anywhere near him.
Dr. Asher Parks was the exact opposite of her father. She’d spent her childhood constantly seeking her father’s approval, and the man did not care for emotions. Despised them in fact, considered them a weakness...
Dani had given up trying to please him by remaining even-keeled and emotionless. Instead she’d forced him and everyone else to accept her emotions. No matter what they were! Drama queen was an unkind label, but it was true.
She was the opposite of what Landon had claimed he wanted. But that hadn’t mattered. And after a lifetime of competing and coming in second, Dani had won something of Rory’s.
Rory didn’t care about Landon. In fact, she thought Dani could do better, but it was her choice. Still, the fact that her family had decided it shouldn’t matter that Rory had once worn his ring bothered her. Their general feelings that the past, and any tense feelings it brought, should be buried made her doubt herself.
She didn’t love Landon. In hindsight, she doubted she ever really had. But the idea that he replaced her with her sister, who looked so much like her, was deeply unsettling. Their father still pitted his daughters against each other for affection. That Landon dumped her but still got to keep his close relationship with her father...it hurt.
But emotions and talking were not something the Millers did. Bury it, move on. Strive for the next the great achievement.
Maybe it was cowardly, but the idea of showing up to this wedding alone made her skin crawl. Particularly since she’d said she had a plus-one when Dani suggested she go with one of the doctors at her father’s practice.
No, thank you.
“So, Ang, you know I am excellent on the dance floor, right?” Asher’s voice was playful as he looked at Rory and winked. “Quite light on my feet, yes?”
Angela, one of the best surgical nurses she’d ever worked with, looked at Rory. She could see the sympathy in the woman’s eyes. Asher was about to get silly...but Rory knew that. She could read the surgeon better than any of her other colleagues.
When his dark eyes met hers, her stomach flipped, and her skin felt heated after talking to him. He wasn’t right for her, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know that he’d dated a sizable portion of the staff a few years ago. Recently, he’d dated outside the hospital. A fact she shouldn’t know...and certainly shouldn’t care about.
But she’d seen more than one woman exit his place early in the morning most days for a few weeks. Then one day they’d never show up again. The man never got close to anyone for long.
Like her, he was married to the job. Even if they were opposites in other ways.
“Ang?” Asher prompted without looking up from their patient’s head.
“Yes. You are very light on your feet.”
“And a good conversationalist too?” Asher scrunched his nose as he looked over the work he’d accomplished so far.
“Something wrong?” Rory looked from her monitors to Asher. He was usually upbeat and fun, but when he scrunched his nose, it meant something was going differently than he planned.
“No. Just trying to pull compliments from Ang to explain why I’d be a great wedding date.” Asher looked up from the table. “I am in.”
The playfulness in his voice died away as he took a deep breath. Life and death hung in the balance in neurosurgery more than they did in most of the other surgical specialties. Asher was fun, but he always put his patients’ needs first. His ability to bounce from the serious to the playful was a skill Rory didn’t understand.
And she was a little jealous. If she was honest.
Rory adjusted the medication for Tabitha, carefully pulling her into a sedated awareness. She wasn’t truly awake, but she’d be able to respond and move her extremities.
“Is that music?” Tabitha’s soft voice echoed over the table.
“It is.” Asher smiled at the woman.
Rory had woken many patients for brain surgery during her time as an anesthesiologist. Their first words were always couched in wonder and uncertainty. Which was understandable.
“I prefer rock music while working. Though it annoys your anesthesiologist!” Asher grinned at the patient. His jokey tone was soothing as he gestured for Angela to have his instruments ready.
“I like it, but this is strange.” Tabitha’s voice was steady, a good sign, though Rory knew Asher would take far too much pleasure in her approval of the musical score.
“I’m sure being awake right now feels weird, but I am going to clip your aneurysm. Sienna, one of our fine nurses, is going to ask you a few questions. To make sure that I am only clipping what needs to be clipped.”
That was a bit of lie. Sienna would ask questions to make sure that the placement Asher put in didn’t cause any motor problems and didn’t impact Tabitha’s eyesight or ability to talk. But that was not the most comforting statement to tell a patient.
The actual clipping took very little time, and before too long, Asher was standing beside Tabitha again. “Dr. Miller is going to put you back to sleep while I finish everything up now.”
“I’m going to be okay?”
“You did great,” Asher assured his patient then nodded to Rory.
She upped the medication dosage again, careful to monitor Tabitha’s heart rate and breaths per minute. All of it looked perfect, but so much could change in the blink of an eye.
“She’s out again.”
“All right.” Asher grabbed the instrument Angela handed him. “As we were saying, I am an excellent candidate for the wedding date.”
Rory nodded but didn’t add anything to the conversation, not that she thought Asher was expecting more. The man was capable of carrying on without her. He’d done it for years.
Not that she minded. Not really.
Rory was the Rock of Mercy. She’d heard it whispered in the halls for a year before someone had said it to her face. The unflinching anesthesiologist, who never showed emotion.
It was meant as a compliment—now. All the surgeons wanted to work with her. She was exacting, unflinching...those were the words her colleagues used in a flattering way.
But she’d heard the other descriptors that had been applied too.
Cold. Unfeeling...
The truth was that she felt everything deeply. She wanted to laugh at some of the doctors’ jokes, particularly Asher’s. Wanted to cry in the break room when a surgery went wrong or even scream when administration turned the job of saving people’s lives into statistics and line items. But she made sure never to show it. No display of weakness.
She was a woman in a primarily male medical specialty. She’d had to be twice as good just to get in the door. She never let anyone doubt her.
“So, Dr. Miller, what do you think?”
“Tabitha is doing well. All her vitals are stable.”
Asher let out a soft chuckle, and she saw the lift in Angela’s eyes that indicated the nurse was smiling.
“I meant about the wedding. Should I pack my dance shoes?”
“Why do you even want to come?” The question was out before Rory could think it through. She watched Angela and a few of the other staff blink. They hadn’t expected to her to respond...and she shouldn’t have.
But Asher didn’t seem fazed as he finished the final sutures. “She’s closed. Time for recovery.”
He dropped the instruments onto the cart to be sanitized, and Rory let out a breath as she started transitioning the medications so Tabitha could be transferred from the OR to the ICU. Where she’d remain for at least a few days.
The surgery was over and no doubt by the time she left the OR, Asher would have forgotten her question. Or at least moved on to the next thing to hold his fancy.
She took a few extra minutes in the OR after the staff had transferred Tabitha, just needing to get herself in order. Push the emotions down that Asher’s jokes had raised.
Because Rory wanted to say yes to his offer. He was right. He’d be a perfect date for a simple wedding weekend. Asher was gorgeous. Tall, confident, with dimples that made most of the staff weak in the knees.
He was successful. Hell, that was an understatement. The man had made the Thirty under Thirty national news pick in medicine...while he was still technically in residency. Dr. Asher Parks was one of the top neurosurgeons in the country and he’d only turned forty last year.
He was damn impressive. And she had no doubt he’d be fun for a few hours.
But she needed more than fun.
She needed someone who could make her family believe they were in love. Who’d play along that they’d been dating for a bit. A person willing to lie so she didn’t have to deal with the questions, the looks, the pity...
“Rory?”
Asher’s voice caught her off guard, but she locked herself down and spun to meet his gaze.
“What can I do for you, Dr. Parks?”
He tilted his head, his dark eyes looking at her. Really looking. For the first time, in her memory he didn’t look like he was thinking of his next joke.
It took far too much willpower to stand still. Most people glanced at her. Saw the cool surface and didn’t think of anything else. But Rory saw the look of concern cross his features, and a look she couldn’t quite decipher. Sadness wasn’t the right descriptor, but for a moment he looked worn, tired...and sad.
“Asher,” he repeated, his bright tone at odds with the look she’d seen. “If I am going to be dancing with you at a wedding, you should probably call me by my name.”
Before she could say anything, he held up a hand. “I’m not going to push again. And if you don’t want me as a date, fine. But I wanted to answer your question.”
“Question?” She frowned, trying to remember, then her mouth fell open as she shook her head. “You don’t have to—”
“You never ask for anything.” Asher rocked on his heels.
“What?” Seriously, why was her tongue continuing this? She typically nodded and walked away from conversations. Heaven knew there was always paperwork to complete or patients to see. But that wasn’t really true; when she was around Asher she wanted to talk. Something about him forced her chatty self to wake up. Another reason she kept her distance.
He took a step closer, and she crossed her arms. It wasn’t much protection against the handsome surgeon, but in this moment, she felt like she needed it.
“You never ask for anything,” Asher repeated. “It’s a rarely discussed fact, but so much of medicine is transactional. Cover this shift for me and I’ll do yours. Take this patient and I’ll take the next one. Fill out this paperwork and I’ll handle next month’s. It’s little, and sometimes not so little, favors.”
She nodded. He wasn’t wrong. It was an aspect of medicine she’d seen first in her father’s office, then in med school, as an intern and resident. Then finally as a physician. She did her best not to participate in it.
“You never ask for favors. So this must be important.”
It is. The words floated in her mind, but she didn’t let them slip into the room. Didn’t let the need that came with them escape.
She’d regretted asking Angela and Sienna as soon as the words left her mouth. No one knew that the Rock was so close to cracking...had already cracked. That the emotions she’d controlled for so long were harder to suppress now.
She couldn’t stand the looks of pity that might bring, or worse, the sexist whispers that she was just another emotional woman. That wasn’t a line she wanted to cross.
Asher waited another minute. Then he straightened. “All jokes aside. If you change your mind, I’d be happy to go with you.”
Then he was gone.
Rory looked at the empty room and hugged herself tighter, keeping her feet rooted where they were. She needed a date for Dani’s wedding, but it didn’t need to be Asher.
It couldn’t be him, because part of her wanted it to be.
And that was a recipe for disaster.
