Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“No. She was on vacation.” I jog to keep up.
“Act indifferent. She doesn’t like it when people try to impress her.”
“Don’t impress my new boss. Got it.”
Cee glances back at me, lowering her chin to eye me over the rims of her glasses. “It’s hard to explain. You just have to experience her. Then you’ll know what I’m talking about. If she didn’t wear a white coat, you might be unable to distinguish her from the patients.” Cee knocks on the door.
“Yes?”
“Jaymes Andrews is here. She’s been brought up to speed on everything.”
I’m not sure I’m up to speed on anything—definitely not on the long-legged office manager. Crossing the threshold, I prepare to be surrounded by sophistication, modern decor, an abstract painting by some artist I’ve never heard of, and maybe some Beethoven and rare plants.
Instead, I’m surrounded by bare white walls. There’s nothing on her desk except a computer and an M&M’S dispenser, and she’s turning circles in the middle of the room while wearing a VR headset.
“Just a sec . . .” She makes a swiping motion with the controller in her right hand like she’s swinging a sword.
When she peels off the headset, I blink hard several times. Dr. Everleigh Reichart looks underage. She blows a few strands of amber hair away from her face before slicking them back toward her ponytail. A few pimples reside along her hairline, which makes sense because she must be fifteen. I do the math in my head. This is a joke. There’s no way she has a medical degree, let alone a specialty in psychiatry.
“Do you play?” She holds up the headset, revealing her short purple-painted fingernails.
I shake my head. “I was homeschooled. And I’m not saying that to impress you. My access to technology before graduating high school was limited. But I hear VR is pretty cool.”
She snorts, revealing polished teeth that would look fairly perfect sans a little crowding on the bottom. “Don’t worry about impressing me with your homeschooling. I bet you’re still a virgin.”
“I don’t think so.” Can she ask me that?
Dr. Reichart tosses her headset on the desk, hazel eyes narrowed a fraction at me.
When I offer my version of a conspiratorial smile, she laughs.
“Let’s just get it out of the way.” She dismissively waves her hand in the air. “I was a freshman in college by age twelve. Undergraduate degree three years later. Med school . . . you get the gist. Too smart for my own good, according to my parents.” She dispenses a handful of M&M candies and shoves them into her mouth, leaving a lingering sweet aroma of chocolate in the air. “My dad is a physician in India. My mom paints pictures of naked couples, and she lives in New York. Any more questions?”
“No. That answers all the questions I didn’t think to ask. I look forward to working with you. Cecilia said patients love you.”
She drops her chin, dramatically rolling her eyes. “Aw, shucks.”
I gesture toward the door because I’m way out of my league on every level, so it’s time to leave. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll get to work.”
“Stop by my office again over your lunch. I’ll teach you how to play Beat Saber.”
“Okay. That’s . . . kind of you.” And weird. I back out of her office. Cecilia was right. There are no words to describe Dr. Everleigh Reichart.
“You’re going to get towed,” Fitz announces, stomping on the rug before removing his brown boots.
I pluck a spoon from the drawer for my potato-leek soup, which has one more minute in the microwave. “I’m parked where Will told me to park.”
“It’s snowing. You can’t park on the street.” He deposits his green Carhartt jacket on a coat hook.
I can’t get enough of Calvin in cargo pants and snug-fitting, long-sleeved T-shirts, but I’ll never tell him that. His ego runneth over all on its own.
“Help me out, Fitz. Offer the new girl more than doom and gloom. Try suggesting a way to keep me from getting towed. I believe the word is a solution.”
He retrieves a black cherry iced tea from the fridge. “Why are you talking like that?”
I blow at the garlic-and-thyme-filled steam while carrying my soup to the table. “Like what?”
He tips back the bottle of tea, eyeing me the whole time. “Slowly. Softly. Like you’re talking to a child.”
I grin just before cautiously sipping my soup. “I think Will and Maren expect me to fix you.”
His lips droop into a frown. It’s hard to keep my composure. Calvin Fitzgerald is the epitome of a brooding man. Taking him on as my pet project should be fun.
“Park in the driveway.” He gives me a toothy grin that’s a little frightening. “See? I just fixed myself. But if you want to take credit for it, go ahead.” Fitz sets his tea on the counter and pulls a white paper bag out of the fridge along with a jar of hot sauce. He peels back the paper around the half-eaten burrito, shakes sauce onto it, and shoves a bite into his mouth.