Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Blakely tilts her head to the side. Her dark brown hair has blonde highlights that bring out the sparkle in her eyes. “You don’t like Christmas?” she finally asks.
“Nope.”
“May I ask why?”
“It’s none of your business,” I snap.
“I’m sorry. I just meant, if it's due to religious purposes or something, I could talk to Hilary and let her know.” She worries her bottom lip, as if concerned she’s offended me in some way.
I’m not offended. I just don’t do Christmas. “It has nothing to do with my religious beliefs. I dislike the holiday and everything about it.” Hate it more like it, but she truly looks stricken that I’m not Mr. Bubbly Holiday Sunshine. I thought I’d spare her a little. I can do nice deeds when I want to. This proves it.
“Okay.” Blakely gives me a slow nod. “Well, take a look at the list and let me know if you have any issues with anything or have anything you’d like to add.”
I pick up the piece of paper and hand it to her without looking at it. “Looks great to me.”
She stares at the paper in my hand for several seconds before she finally takes it. “I’ll be in touch with your nurse to schedule future meetings.” She stands and turns toward the door.
“We don’t need future meetings, Ms. Kincaid. I don’t care what you do with the gala. The only thing I care about is that I don’t have to be a part of it.”
“Oh, team player, are we?” she sasses. “I’ll be in touch.” Her long hair flies over her shoulder as she exits my office.
“Fuck,” I mutter. Reaching for the phone on my desk, I dial the administration office and ask for Hilary.
“This is Hilary,” she answers.
“Dr. Thompson here. I don’t want to do the gala.”
“Dr. Thompson, it’s good to hear from you. As far as the gala is concerned, you are the lead physician on the committee, are you not?”
“Switch me.” My tone is harsher than I intended and laced with a little desperation.
“It’s not that simple. All the other committees are already in full swing with projects, and this one, it’s one time a year for a few weeks. Honestly, you’re very lucky this is where you were put. It’s much less work.”
I bite my tongue to keep from cursing. “Tell Ms. Kincaid she has free rein and can leave me out of it, just like in years past.”
“I’m afraid I’ve left that up to Blakely. This is her project now. If she needs you to assist, well, then that’s what you’ll need to do.”
I can hear in her tone of voice that I’m not getting out of this. “Is Tom in his office?” I ask of the CEO.
“No, but it wouldn’t matter if he were. It’s in your contract that you will serve on a committee for the hospital. You didn’t speak up about which one you wanted, and one was assigned to you. New assignment requests are taken in December for the next fiscal year. Might want to write that date down on your calendar, Dr. Thompson.”
Son of a bitch.
“Fine.”
“Will that be all?”
“Yes,” I grit out. I’m barely holding onto my anger. It’s my fault. I was good with letting Hilary run the show, and she never complained. I was complacent, and this is the outcome.
“Wonderful. I’ll see you soon, then.” The call ends, and I slam the phone back on the base.
Reaching for my cell phone, I put a note on my calendar to repeat every single day of December. “New Committee Assignment” is now an all-day event on my schedule for all thirty-one days of the month. I’m damn sure not going to forget this time.
More than done with this day, I shut down my laptop and leave it. I’m caught up on work for the day. Grabbing my keys from the desk drawer and my cell phone, I rip my coat from the hook on the back of the door and hit the light switch on my way out.
As I reach my car in the faculty parking lot, I hear a muttered curse. I look around, my senses on high alert. That was a woman’s voice, and if she’s in trouble, I need to help. My eyes scan the lot and land on a beautiful woman, kicking the tire of her car. Not just any beautiful woman.
Blakely Kincaid.
“Fuck my life,” I mumble, look up at the quickly darkening sky, and make my way a few rows back to stand next to her. “Need some help?”
“I have a flat.”
“I can change it for you.”
“I know how to change a tire. My dad is a mechanic. He taught me everything I need to know. I suffered through wearing wiener pants to learn,” she rambles.
“Wiener pants?”
“Oh shit.” She covers her face with her hands. “Just ignore me.”