Page 108 of Dr. Attending

“You owe me a thousand margaritas for today, Morg.”

“Love you, mean it,” she calls as I’m heading out.

Chapter 39

Caroline

The surgical faculty offices are on the tenth floor in a separate building from the main hospital. I had a general idea of where to go since Cassidy and I brought Parker some of our mom’s oatmeal raisin cookies last Christmas while Claire ran around the ER with Morgan.

For a second, I was worried that I would run into my brother. But fortunately, the only people I pass on my way are physicians who don’t give me a second look, so I guess I really do look the part.

I find Weston’s office at the end of the long hallway. From the window above his door, it looks like his light is on, but I can’t tell if he’s in there or not so I decide to send him a text. It’s almost eleven in the morning, so it’s possible that he had a light load and is done for the day—or at least that’s what I find myself hoping for.

Are you in your office?

Almost instantly, a reply comes through.

Which office? The one where I bent you over my desk and fucked you?

Or the boring one?

A thrill runs through me as I think back to that night. It was a few days after Halloween, and I was hanging out at his house after my clerkship prep class. Weston had to do a few administrative things once Carter went down for bed, so I decided to mess with him by putting on one of his button-downs and walking into his office. It ended in the very best way possible—with multiple orgasms.

The other one :(

He must not be that busy because he quickly responds.

Yes.

My heart starts to pound a little faster at the idea of surprising him here. We haven’t spoken all morning so he has no idea that I’m at the hospital, let alone right outside his office door.

I hold my phone screen up to my face, checking my appearance in the camera. I might not have any makeup on besides mascara, but I took the time to blow my hair out this morning, and it still looks flawless.

I curl my hand around the metal doorknob, gently twisting it to make sure it’s unlocked before I crack it open.

Here goes nothing.

My eyes immediately land on Weston sitting behind his dark wood desk, looking like a Ken doll with his perfectly pressed white coat and navy scrubs underneath. His dirty-blond hair isbrushed back in a way that makes me want to run my fingers through it, and I almost tell him that . . . until I realize the way he’s looking at me feels off.

He’s leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. If I didn’t know him better, I’d assume that he’s angry. But that can’t be right—he was just joking about hooking up with me.

I shift on my feet as he drags his gaze up and down my body.

“Ms. Winters,”he states, his tone so cold that it sends a shiver down my spine. “Please come in and close the door. Are you here for your interview?”

My mouth feels like the Sahara desert as I try to get a word out. “Wh . . . what?”

“Please come inside and close the door,” he repeats, narrowing his eyes on me with a predatory hunger I’ve never seen before. “And hand me your phone. I don’t want any distractions.”

I nearly trip over myself as I push open the door to his office.

My hands feel clammy on the metal handle as it clicks closed, and I hear my breaths start to come faster as I turn toward him, taking several steps across the room to hand him my phone.

“Just relax, darling.” A deep southern voice comments from my left. “This is all very informal.”

I jerk my head to the side, noticing the man seated across from Weston’s desk.

His forest-green eyes meet mine with a warm, knowing look, and I feel my jaw drop because he’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life.His skin is glowing, but his complexion is perfect like he’s never been in the sun a day in his life, and his chocolate brown hair is tousled on top and swept to the side, styled in a way that looks like he belongs on a Hollywood red carpet instead of a hospital.

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