roses. She buried her face in them as she caught up to the patient and linked her arm through his. ‘They’re gorgeous, aren’t they? What are these ones called?’
The old man’s wrinkled hand landed on hers as he gave her a couple of pats. ‘I struck this one myself.’
Felicity was back with the roses in a vase in under a minute. She put them on his desk, desperately hoping he was allergic to them, but he didn’t shift his attention from the computer, squinting at it instead as he clicked around different views to assess the X-ray on the screen.
‘This radius looks good,’ he declared, finally looking at her over the tops of his glasses, and it hit her again how they loaned him that extra dollop of sexy.
It wasn’t a thought she welcomed. How could she have the hots for someone who didn’t have a clue about connecting with his patients? Who she wasn’t even sure she liked any more.
Because you’ve seen the other side...
Felicity hated it when the voice in her head was right. She had seen a very different side to Callum. One who had been competent and compassionate as well as chatty and flirty.
She’d liked that guy. A lot.
And compassion was always going to trump competence and looking great in glasses.
‘It’s healed very nicely.’ His gaze returned to the screen. ‘Can you take the plaster off then send her in to me?’
Aye, aye, sir. ‘Certainly, Dr Hollingsworth.’
He looked up abruptly, a frown between his brows. ‘You don’t have to call me that,’ he said. ‘Callum is fine.’
Felicity figured ‘jerk’ was even better but she wisely held her tongue.
‘Looks like we’re going to both get an early mark,’ he said, glancing at his watch, clearly pleased with himself.
Felicity’s blood pressure shot up a notch or two. She didn’t want a damn early mark. She wanted her patients to feel like they were more than a body part or some medical problem to cure or treat.
‘I’ll just see to Pauline.’
Felicity hit the waiting area with a full head of steam and a bunch of uncharitable thoughts. ‘Hey, Pauline, you can come through now,’ she said, forcing herself to smile so she wouldn’t scare any of the waiting patients.
Pauline had slipped on the wet tiles around her pool and put her arm out to break her fall, snapping her radius instead. She was a few years older than Felicity but with three little kids she was a regular at the practice.
Felicity led her into the treatment room and Pauline sat on the central table over which hung a large, adjustable operating theatre light. It could be moved higher and lower and angled any which way required when suturing or other minor procedures were performed.
‘You ready for this?’ Felicity asked as she applied her face mask, grateful for her glasses being a little more glamorous eye protection than the ugly, clunky plastic goggles that the practice supplied. Cutting through plaster kicked up a lot of dust and fibres.
‘I am so ready for this, Flick. Those kids of mine have sensed I’m weak and have been running riot these last six weeks. I can’t wait to show them Mummy’s back.’
Felicity laughed. ‘All righty, then. It looks scary and it’s going to be loud, okay?’
She turned it on to demonstrate. The oscillating saw with its round blade whined as loudly as any handyman’s saw. She turned it off. ‘The blade vibrates, it doesn’t cut. If it comes into contact with your skin it can’t hurt you. But it won’t, I promise. Once I get down to the last layer I’ll switch to plaster spreaders and some kick-arse scissors.’
‘Yep. Cool.’ Pauline nodded vigorously. ‘Let’s do it.’
It took fifteen minutes to remove the cast. Using the loud saw was actually quite therapeutic. By the time she’d sent Pauline on her way to Callum, Felicity wasn’t feeling anywhere near as annoyed as she had been.
She did, however, get some dust or fibre in her right eye, which became more and more irritating as she cleaned up the treatment room. She ambled over to the mirror hanging behind the door to see if there was anything obvious. Her eye was red from her rubbing it but there was nothing apparent in it.
Damn. She’d get a lecture from Bill for sure about wearing the correct safety equipment and she’d only have herself to blame. She’d always considered her own glasses as good eye protection—for plaster removal anyway—and now she was going to have to revise that opinion.
The irritation grew worse and out of desperation she grabbed a handful of plastic saline ampoules, twisted off their tops and moved to the sink. She leaned her head over and turned it on the side, her right eye down and bent her knees to bring her closer to the porcelain so she wouldn’t make a mess.
It was an awkward position but at least the saline ran straight into the sink as she gently trickled ampoule after ampoule into her eye.
‘What on earth are you doing?’
Felicity’s pulse leapt both at the unexpected interruption and who it belonged to. Not exactly the most elegant position to be found in, especially as she already felt like an idiot for being in this situation. Her earlier crankiness returned. ‘What does it look like?’
‘You got something in your eye?’ His voice grew nearer and she could see him approach in her peripheral vision, coming to a halt, his hands on his hips as he watched her, her eyes about level with his fly.
She tried valiantly not to go back to that night again but failed.
‘Give the man a cigar.’
‘Is this from removing the plaster?’
‘Yes.’
He held out his hand for the remaining ampoules. ‘Let me help.’
‘I’m fine. You’ve got your early mark, go home.’
She may have liquid in one eye and a side view from the other but she didn’t need to see his glare—she felt it all the way down to her toes.
‘Are you angry at me for some reason? Do you have something against efficiency? Or is this some self-loathing guilt trip of yours because of what happened on the train, which is suddenly now wrong and somehow my fault? Because if we’ve got a problem then I really wish you’d just come out and say it.’
Felicity glared right back, which was difficult considering what she was doing. Yes, she was angry but it had absolutely nothing to do with the train or any kind of guilt trip. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty but she could never hate herself over that night.
This was purely about today. Unfortunately it wasn’t her place to chastise the new doctor about the way he practised. Or any doctor for that matter. There were protocols and formal procedures in place for those kinds of things.
Not that she’d ever had any cause.
If Dr Dawson asked her how Callum was going she’d say he was diligent and efficient.
