Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
After the shitty week I’d had, this was a dream come true.
I’d have to hand him off to Shelly or Anthony so I could ask him out.
I rose to my feet and smoothed out my skirt at the same time, flashing my confident smile and extending my hand to shake his. “Dr. Hamilton. I’m sorry that I’m unprepared. My assistant didn’t tell me I had a new patient.”
He came close and enclosed my hand with his, giving me a firm squeeze, his skin warm to the touch, those cords across the top of his hand. He had dark eyes to match his short brown hair.
Tall. Dark. And handsome.
Yaaaassss.
He gave a slight smile before he dropped his hand. “Dr. Beaumont.”
I instantly went rigid, looking at my next boss—not my next patient. “Ohh…”
He slid his hands into his pockets as his eyes remained connected to mine, taller than me despite the chunky pumps I wore behind the desk. Subtle hostility was in his eyes, his guard raised, along with some arrogance. “Decided to take this opportunity to speak to you in private before our staff meeting.”
We had a staff meeting today?
I hadn’t even seen Atlas bring his stuff into the office.
“Dylan mentioned there might be some contention on your part. Just wanted to get it out of the way so this can be a smooth transition.”
“Get it out of the way, huh?” I should hold my tongue, but I’d never been successful at that in my entire life. “Then, go ahead.” I extended my hand outward to the chair in front of my desk. “Let’s get it out of the way, then.”
“I prefer to stand.”
“Wow, me too. What a coincidence.”
His hands remained in his pockets, and his dark eyes continued to convey their coldness. Whatever Dylan said to him had obviously ticked him off because he came in here with a pretty strong preconceived notion about me.
What a pity. Because I had been fine moving on until he’d stirred the pot.
“I understand that you’re having some issues with Dylan’s hiring decision. But I want to reassure you that I’ll be an asset to this clinic, that I’m more than qualified to lead this team to provide exceptional patient care.”
“Yeah, we already do that.”
“There’s always room for improvement.”
“How would you know? Today is your first day.”
He was absolutely still, regarding me with a coldness that blew in the door like a winter storm.
I stared back at him, resisting the urge to smile.
The silence passed, and he continued to stare, not blinking, his anger subtle but still warm like a fire. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way—”
“Hard way. Always.”
He kept his composure as much as possible, but his anger was starting to show. “Dr. Hamilton, I’m your boss—”
“No, bitch. No one is my boss.”
His eyes widened at my words.
“Because that’s not how we do things here. We work together as a team—for the good of the patients. There’s no bureaucratic bullshit. There’s no hierarchy. There are only patients. But you don’t know that—because you don’t work here.”
A sarcastic smile moved on to his lips. “Wow. You’re a poor sport, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not—”
“You’re proving my point—that you’re unqualified. Calling your new boss, coworker, whatever you consider me to be bitch and establishing nothing but contention and resistance and not an ounce of professionalism says a lot more about you than me. I came in here to smooth things over—”
“You came in here and said I was being difficult, and we needed to get it out of the way—before you’d even met me. I’d made my peace with Dylan’s decision. Was ready to move on and get focused on the patients who require my attention—until you waltzed in here and insulted me. You fucked this up—not me.”
He glanced down at my desk, seeing the family pictures sitting there. He looked up again. “Hard to believe your father is Deacon Hamilton—because you’re nothing like him.”
“Oh, I’m just like him. I’m brilliant and hardworking—and I don’t take shit from anybody.”
“If I’d walked into your father’s office, this conversation wouldn’t have gone this way.”
“You never would have walked into his office and said what you said in the first place—because he’s a man. You would have handled it totally differently, and don’t sit there and say you wouldn’t have.”
His hands went to his hips as he stared at me, biting his lower lip as he considered his response.
“And what is this?” I looked down at his attire. “A sweatshirt? No wonder I thought you were a patient.”
“I don’t need to wear a suit and tie to do my job.”
“You do if you want people to respect you—”
“People respect me just fine.”
“Well, I don’t.”
His eyes narrowed once again. “Alright. I shouldn’t have approached this situation the way I did. I’ll give you that.”
“Alright. Respect you a little more.”