Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 237(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 237(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
God, I’d give anything right now to have her on my lap, coffee, and all. I mean, a girl like Mandy must have a dozen guys a day wanting her number.
Or maybe she’s already seeing someone –.
The thought clouds my mind in a way I don’t like. And I find myself running on autopilot, not saying enough of what I came to say.
I feel like I’ll explode if I don’t say or do something that tells her how I feel, but I’m cut short by the reality of the crowd behind me.
Mandy’s boss is giving me a look I know is a kinder version of the people behind me waiting.
I hear myself saying, “Thanks, Mandy. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
My voice sounds like someone else’s, and when my body turns to leave, my mind flexes back to the point I was supposed to be at in the first place, but it’s too late.
I feel my shoulders sag as the sense of failure grips me.
I want to turn and go back long before I round the corridor, but I don’t want to make things any harder for her by causing a scene when she’s so busy.
Trying to slam dunk my coffee into an open trash can once I’m at my usual coffee ditching point sees me almost miss it completely, and I curse to myself.
I watch the steaming fawn-colored liquid leap into the air, looking like it’ll go everywhere, but most of it slaps down noisily into the trash. I’ve made a mess of the trashcan, sure. But I’m angry because I couldn’t bring myself to say anything sensible to Mandy just now.
A senior surgeon in a world-class hospital, and I couldn’t even let a girl know I want to talk to her in private. Maybe even just ask her out for cocoa someplace else apart from the hospital.
Maybe I’ll just follow her home again. Stand in the opposite alley and watch her window again. Make sure she’s being watched over properly as she should be. All night if I have to.
I’ve pulled thirty-six-hour shifts and still operated perfectly.
What the hell is wrong with you, Foxx? Just go back and tell her. Tell her you want to talk to her, just for a few minutes once she finishes. How hard is that?
Not as hard as thinking about her when I’m alone at night these past few days has made me. And nowhere near as hard as it is to focus on anything else but her right now.
Hell, it’s like she’s following me or something. Burrowing into my mind. Taking over my whole world is exactly what I want to happen, but she needs to know I don’t just want to see her to buy her damned coffee.
I look around, certain of the sensation of someone following me, but there’s nobody there, I shrug, hearing an exit closing in the next corridor.
I also discover more than a little splash back from my dumped coffee on my scrubs, which makes me groan aloud.
Heading to the locker room, I’m ready to call it quits for work today when I remember the pile of paperwork I’ve let accumulate the past few days.
Vowing to get it done, and dammit, yes, I will go back before closing and wait for Mandy this time instead of lining up to see her.
Make it look like I’m just running into her on my way out.
The perfect ‘in’ to invite myself to walk her home. After that? I’m fairly certain nature can take its course once I find out from her own lips if they’re really gonna be mine or not.
I know they will, and the thought cancels everything else out, making me smile to myself again.
Powering through a quick change as well as my workload, I’m almost too focused on getting it all done before I realize the time.
I’m off duty as of twenty minutes ago, so no better time than now to hustle down to the coffee shop.
Hearing myself whistling on the way to the elevator, I reel that one in.
Strong silent type, remember? That’s what women want, not some happy-slappy character from a cartoon.
But damn. If I don’t catch myself doing it again the closer I get to that coffee shop.
Just the thought of seeing her again is the best feeling in the world. Better than every happy ending I’ve seen in over twenty years as a doctor.
And that’s fucking saying something.
And no bloody pirate talk either. Keep it polite. Professional.
I caution myself, still struggling not to think and see things in my mind whenever I think of Mandy.
Words and pictures I would never have dared flash on my internal screen before meeting her.
Things I vow to tell and show her.
Things I promised myself can happen with her if she’d only say the word.
I’ve never thought or felt this way about anyone before. Maybe that’s because nobody’s even come close to being as perfect as Mandy.