Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Ryder grins.
“Sounds good to me. I mean, I’m not making any promises, but the charity work sounds promising,” he says in an amenable tone. “We’ll check it out, and start the ball rolling. So are you going to get the paperwork going?”
I shrug again.
“Sure, why not? I’ll get Gerald on it,” I say, referring to our lawyer. “We’ll get the 501(c)(3) forms filed, and then take it from there. It’ll obviously take a lot of planning, but you know what? This feels right. It feels really good to give back.”
Ryder grins, nodding his agreement.
“Yeah, and it’s all because of Bethany. If it wasn’t for her, you and I would still be self-centered plastic surgeons doing boob jobs with our eyes closed. But now it looks like we’re branching in another direction. The Epicine Foundation. I like it.”
And that’s how the charitable arm of our practice was started. Because of Bethany. The curvy girl works wonders even when she isn’t in the room. We want to please her, and as a result, the seeds of a non-profit were born and now, Ryder and I plan on seeing where it takes us. Who knew that Bethany could make such a difference? My heart pounds, and I feel myself falling even more in love with the delightful curvy girl.
18
Bethany
Danny goes running into the fire station, his face alight with glee.
“Whee!” he squeals, with both arms out like he’s a plane. “Whee! Whee! Fire truck!” he shouts while pointing at the big red behemoth parked inside. “Hose!”
The fire truck is impressive. Up close, it looks to be at least sixty feet long, with a giant ladder mounted on top, and wheels that are as big as small horses. It’s shiny and red, and polished to a gleam.
“Oh my gosh, how did you get this private tour?” I ask in a whisper.
Ryder grins at me.
“It’s not a private tour,” he whispers back. “We told them we needed to check out the space because Ranger and I want to hold a kids’ party here.”
I stare at him.
“A kids’ party? But why?”
The handsome man smiles.
“Ranger didn’t tell you? We’ve just finished the paperwork for the Epinine Foundation. We’re starting a charitable wing of our practice,” he says. “We’re going to do pro bono operations for kids with cleft palates. Our skills have been used for nose jobs and face lifts for fancy ladies for a long time now. Now, it’s time to give back.”
I’m stunned.
“Really?” I ask. “But wait, what is a cleft palate?”
Ranger cuts in then.
“Sweetheart, it’s where the roof or lip of a child’s mouth doesn’t fully close by the time he’s born. The baby often has holes between his mouth, nose and throat, and may have difficulty speaking or swallowing.”
“That sounds awful,” I breathe.
Ranger nods.
“It is, but plastic surgery is a good fix. The cases can really vary in terms of severity, but Ryder and I know what to do. We haven’t done one of these cases in a while, but it’ll all come back. It’s standard for plastic surgeons.”
My heart brims with passion for these men.
“You’re good doctors,” I say softly. “With kind hearts and you’re giving so much of yourselves too.”
The physicians look wryly at me.
“Actually, it’s all because of you, Bethie,” intones Ranger.
I stare at them.
“Me? But how? I didn’t have any ideas about non-profits. I didn’t even know there were children with this condition.”
The men nod.
“Yes, but we wanted to make you happy. It started out with Ranger having this crazy idea of renting out a fire station for you and Danny to enjoy,” says Ryder, shooting his business partner a look. “But then it kept going, and pretty soon, we’d committed to the concept of a children’s non-profit called Operation Smile. It’s the right thing to do, sweetheart, and we want to do it.”
Tears brim in my eyes.
“You’re so good,” I say in another low voice. “I can’t believe I’m so lucky to be with you.” It’s true too. Ryder and Ranger are skilled physicians. They’re in-demand too, and they have every right to go home after a long day of work and pass out on their couches. But instead, these handsome, charismatic men don’t want that. They’re looking to up their workload, and to practice their craft in the name of doing good. I couldn’t respect them more, and my heart feels like it’s bursting with love.
I’m just about to express my emotions, when suddenly a red-faced man appears, dressed in baggy black overalls with yellow suspenders over a white long-sleeved t-shirt.
“Are you Ryder Stephenson and Ranger Stevens?” he chortles.
“Yes,” the men answer. “You must be Chief Gimmer,” Ryder rumbles. “Thank you so much for letting us see your fire station.”
“Call me Bobby,” the portly man chuckles. “I’ve known Ranger’s Uncle Larry since we were boys yea tall growing up in Queens,” he says, holding his palm out at about waist length. “And he tells me you’re doing this for charity right? You’re looking for a space for a kids party?”