Chapter 6 Olivia
OLIVIA
A large cup of coffee invades my vision. Dr. Warrick teases it, bringing it closer only to pull it away again, trying to get me to stop what I’m doing, which is working on his schedule. He is the busiest man I know who would rather take the day second by second.
I can’t imagine the chaos that would bring if he didn’t have me.
Finally succumbing to the delicious sent of a caramel mocha latte, I glance up from the screen, wafting a hand over the lid to wave the smell toward me.
“You’re like a fish. That was too easy to do.”
I snatch the latte from him, rushing to take a sip, and I groan when it warms my soul. I’ve already had a cup of coffee today, but this one is from that shop a few doors down. I don’t know their secret. It’s the best coffee I’ve ever had.
Immediately, I know something is up with him because when he brings me coffee from this shop, he either needs something, or there’s something special happening. I’ve worked for him for too long and I know his tricks.
I quirk a brow, pushing my back against the chair to recline a little while I look up at him. “What is it? What do you want?”
“I don’t want anything. Why would you say that? I can’t bring my favorite assistant coffee?”
I swallow the warm liquid, quirking a brow. “You’re a horrible liar. Out with it.”
He lifts a shoulder, taking a sip of his own drink. “I just wanted to get you something while I was out. It’s no big deal.”
I lean forward, and the chair squeaks. “Then, I can tell you about the worst date I’ve ever been on, since you have no news.”
He leans his hip against my desk, crossing one ankle over another. “That bad?”
“It’s a war zone out there, Dr. Warrick.
A war zone.” I frown, thinking about all the horrible moments of the date itself.
“By the time it ended, I dumped my gin and tonic on him and ran out of the restaurant, leaving him with the bill. Which he didn’t want to pay for anyway.
Listen, I would have happily split the bill.
It was the way he said it, is all. And he kept stealing my damn drinks for himself.
He was rude and called my job useless. He said I didn’t have any dreams.” I frown at that memory, wondering if there was any truth to his words.
I’ve never cared about where I work as long as the job is good and has decent benefits. The only thing I care about is my happiness. I have that here at Warrick General. Maybe that’s where I lack imagination.
I never wanted a job that took over my life. That’s what I see all the time when it comes to people following their dreams. Their passion becomes a need, and their entire life revolves around keeping the dream alive. It seems exhausting to me.
Every day I see nurses, surgeons, and doctors in this hospital, fighting to stay awake, stealing a ten-minute nap in the break room so they can make it through the rest of their shift.
The dream stops having passion and drains the life out of that person, and it’s a vicious cycle.
They have to keep the momentum going; they can’t stop.
The dream has consumed them now and without it, people forget who they are.
It’s the last thing I want for myself.
I want to work at a job I like, so my life outside of work can be what I want it to be. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. Hearing the guy I went on a date with telling me I have no dreams or aspirations really hurt more than I like to admit.
The real reason I’m so comfortable with not wanting more is that my dream was to always have a big family. I don’t want a job that will take me away from my children. That has always been my plan, but if dating is anything like it was last night, I might need to reconsider my options.
“Well, that’s actually a perfect segue,” Dr. Warrick says.
“Not that I like that you went on a bad date. That guy seems like a real asshole. He doesn’t deserve you or any woman, for that matter.
” He grabs the cushioned leather chair that’s in front of my desk, dragging it around to sit in front of me.
“Don’t let him get into your head. You’re damn good at what you do.
I wouldn’t run like the well-oiled machine I am if it weren’t for you.
Few can do this job, Olivia. It’s demanding and time-consuming.
It can be exhausting, especially with someone like me.
My schedule is always changing. This job is demanding, and—” He taps his fingers on the side of his cup.
“Well, that’s why what I’m about to ask you, you’ll need to think about. I’ll need even more from you.”
My heart begins to hammer in my chest, a nervous sweat slicking my palms. I set the cup down on the desk, wiping my hands on my pleated jeans.
“Have I not been doing a good job?” My brows pinch together in confusion, because he just said I was doing great but now he’s saying he needs more from me.
“I mean, tell me what to do and I’ll do it, Dr. Warrick.
I love working here. Don’t fire me yet. Just let me know what you need me to do and I’ll do it better.
” Panic claws at my throat, emotion bubbling in my chest like water getting ready to boil over.
Even my eyes become misty as I hold back tears.
“Woah, woah, woah. Olivia. No. I am truly so terrible at this.” He drops his hand to my knee, giving it a reassuring pat.
“I want to promote you. Technically, you already are promoted since I told HR already, so your next check will be more than usual. I got ahead of myself thinking you’d already say yes. ”
“Promote me?” I croak with surprise, the emotion still clogged in my throat. “What?” I’m still confused.
“You’re my personal assistant, but I think you deserve more than that. I wanted to promote you to my executive assistant. It comes with a thirty percent raise, and better benefits, but your day might have to be an hour or two longer, and you’ll have half-days every other Friday…”
“Yes!” I throw my arms around his neck to give him a hug. “Are you kidding? I’d love to be your executive assistant.”
He chuckles, patting my back before pulling away. “Good. Sorry I freaked you out, but I didn’t know if you’d say yes or not. I didn’t want to assume. You can tell that asshole who you went on a date with that you’re making more money than he ever will.”
I snort, snagging my coffee cup again. The warmth seeps into my palm, helping the excitement to calm slightly. “Don’t worry. I will never be seeing him again. He’s blocked. I don’t think I’ll be using that dating app again.”
“Don’t give up. I know dating sucks.”
“What would you know about dating?” I toss a pen at him, narrowing my eyes. “You don’t date, and your wife doesn’t count. You didn’t really even date her.”
He has a faraway look in his eyes, staring off into space with a big lovestruck grin. “That’s true. Well, when you know, you know. I knew with her. I knew from the moment I saw her.”
I fake being disgusted. “Yes, I know. It was love at first sight. Blah, blah, blah. Maybe that’s what happened. You got the last love known to the world.”
He tosses his head back and laughs. “You’re so dramatic. And wrong.” He nudges my knee with his. “You’re young, Olivia. You’ll find Mr. Right.”
“In this economy?” I grumble under my breath.
“What’s happening in the economy?”
Dr. Warrick and I turn to see a very tall and very handsome doctor walk up to my desk.
He’s gorgeous. His salt-and-pepper hair has a slight curl to it, giving it a bit of volume.
His bright blue eyes land on me, our gazes lock, and my lungs forget how to function.
His square jaw tenses, his cheek bones high and sculpted.
The one questionable thing is the bruise he’s sporting on his cheek that spreads up to his eye. Whatever happened, it had to have hurt. I’m curious, but it’s none of my business.
He has slight scruff, similar to Dr. Warrick, which means he hasn’t slept well and hasn’t had a lot of time to himself.
“Dr. Carrington,” my boss greets him, standing and offering him a handshake. “It’s good to see you.”
Dr. Carrington. I’ve heard about him. He’s new to the hospital and is the department head of neurology, the youngest in Warrick General history, I think. That’s very impressive and not easy to do. There are men with years more experience under their belt who would love to have that position.
“You too, Dr. Warrick. Am I interrupting something? I can come back another time.” He lifts the sleeve of his white coat, checking his watch, and that’s when I notice the slightest peek of the swirling art of tattoos. “We can reschedule. I know we said two, but—”
“Nonsense. You’re right on time. You don’t mind that my executive assistant joins us, do you?”
I snag my notebook and pen, knowing I’m going to be taking notes. If I don’t, Winston Warrick would forget where he worked.
Dr. Carrington looks at me again, an electric current buzzing between us. I have to break eye contact. I glance away, checking the desk for nothing, but I need to keep myself busy. I can’t be caught ogling him in a professional setting.
“I don’t mind at all.” He steps beside me as we walk into the conference room. “Dr. Carrington. My friends call me Elias, though.”
I stare at his hand, afraid to have his palm touch mine, afraid of knowing what I’d feel because even walking next to him, my body yearns for more. More closeness, more touch, and if I give in, if I break the smallest barrier, then I know I’ll want more.
“Is that what we are? Friends?” I tease, daring myself to meet his handshake.
I do. God, I do. I can’t help myself. His hands are large, his fingers long yet powerful as they wrap around mine.