hours. Her colleagues talked as if she were some kind of superhero.
Was he sure that wasn’t why he was here now? To make sure the hospital’s star player wasn’t going to burn herself out?
Or was it more personal than that?
Nope. It was Monday. He was simply sticking to routine.
And the envelope he’d found on his desk this morning? She’d arrived even before he had. Had she not heard a single word he’d said?
Nodding to a staff member who made eye contact, he suddenly wondered if he should have skipped coming down here. He didn’t want Addy to think he was seeking her out.
Because he wasn’t.
Pivoting on his heel, he almost ran over the very person he was now hoping to avoid.
“Dr. Stapleton.” Her wide eyes and breathless tone made him smile. Okay. So maybe it wasn’t just him feeling awkward.
“Garret, remember? Everyone else calls me by my given name.”
“Oh. Of course.” She glanced at the electronic file-storage device still in her hands. “Did you get my note?”
“You mean the one that was lying on my desk when I arrived?”
“I always get here at six.” Her quick response was defensive, and her eyes came up to meet his. “I’m off on Wednesday, though. I’m actually planning on surfing.”
“Surfing as in the internet?”
Her head cocked sideways. “No. Surfing as in at the beach.” Her hand twirled through the air. “In the ocean. Catching waves.”
“You—surf?” A quick image of Addy flashed through his skull. A wetsuit? Or, worse, a bikini? He suddenly wished he hadn’t asked her to clarify her response.
Up went her brows. “This is South Beach. Doesn’t everyone?”
“I haven’t taken a survey recently.”
She laughed. “Sorry. I just thought that most Floridians… Oh, wait. You’re from New York. Sorry. Coming here must have been a big change for you.”
His imaginings died a painful death.
“Not as big as other changes.” His hand curled next to his side. Why had he just said that? “Both places have a lot of people. And a need for good medical care.”
“Of course.” She hesitated. “Do you still do consulting at all?”
“Sorry?”
“On cases. I had a head trauma come in the other day and the neurologist on duty was tied up in surgery. It took a little longer to get the patient evaluated than I would have liked.”
“Did it change the outcome?”
“The patient didn’t make it. But no, the outcome probably would have been the same. But it would be nice to know there’s someone else I can call if the need arises.”
His jaw tightened. No one at Miami’s Grace had asked him that question before. Which was another reason he’d relocated. If people didn’t think of him as a neurosurgeon, they wouldn’t treat him like one. Did he really want to open that door? Then again, did he want to risk a patient’s life by refusing?
“I don’t do surgery anymore.” Said as if he still could. So why hadn’t he said “can’t”? Maybe because he hadn’t quite faced the fact that he would never again use a scalpel to excise a brain tumor.
Addy frowned. “I realize that. So you’re not willing to consult? I just want to be clear so that I don’t keep that as an option.”
“I’m available if you need me.” And just like that, it was out there. Not exactly the way he’d envisioned this conversation going. He’d been all set to chastise her for flouting his request that she moderate her hours, and she’d ended up subtly chastising him for putting himself above their patients.
And she was right. His embarrassment over his hand did drive some of his decisions. Including being the motivating factor behind calling her into his office a few days ago. It had nothing to do with her patients—or even her well-being—and everything to do with him.
That had to change. Starting now.
“Thank you, Dr.—I mean Garret. You won’t regret it.”
He already did, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Instead, he nodded at the tablet in her hand. “Nothing neurological this morning?”
“Not so far. Just a gator hunter who shot a hole in his boat. But not before the bullet went through his buddy’s foot.”
His brows shot up. “Well, I can’t remember seeing anything like that at my last hospital.”
“You didn’t have hunters in New York?”
He thought of the gangland shootings and senseless loss of life. “We did. But they tended to hunt a different kind of prey, and when they shot someone, it wasn’t an accident.”
“We have that here too.” She sighed. “I wish people were different. Kinder.”
“There are still some good ones out there.” Addy was one of those good ones. He could see it in her work ethic, in the fact that she cared enough about her patients to risk a firm refusal when she’d asked him to consult on cases.
Sometimes, with hospital politics in play, it was easier to just go with the flow and try not to make waves. But that wasn’t always what was best for the patient. Here was someone who was not only willing to make waves, but more than willing to swim against the current. Well, surfers had to do that each time they took their boards into the water, didn’t they? She was just doing what came naturally.
“Yes, there are. Some of those good ones even come from New York City.” She gave a smile that lit up her dark green eyes. Eyes that met and held his for long seconds.
He swallowed. She didn’t know him very well. Because if she did, she’d know he wasn’t good. Not by a long shot.
But even as he thought it, a warmth seeped into his chest that had nothing to do with a defect in the hospital’s climate control system. It had been a while since someone had handed him a compliment that didn’t originate with his position at the hospital. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.
Better just to ignore it. And the way that her smile messed with something inside him.
“So what happened to the man in the boat? The one who was shot?” he asked.
“What didn’t happen to him? He fell overboard right after the bullet hit him, dousing his foot with swamp water. Then once back in the boat, he had to bail more water, while his friend drove them back to shore, giving his foot another good dunking.” Her smile widened, and it kicked straight to areas best left alone. “So we soaked it with the good stuff, shot him full of antibiotics and updated his tetanus booster.”
“Poor guy. And
