Not Like Christmas At All (A.R.’s Holiday Standalones #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Two weeks until Christmas

“Paging Doctor Grumpy,” the small voice of Mirabelle’s announcement echoes over the hospital's speaker system, her innocent giggles following. “Doctor Grumpy! Where are you?”

“I said to call him Doctor Hottie!” My hand whips out to cover the mic, but my whisper-shout carries through the system. Stifling my laughter, I roll my eyes. My lips thin into an unamused line, and I mouth, “Really?”

“Ew, that’s gross, he’s old!” she shrieks, and it amplifies through the hospital because I still haven’t flipped the off button.

“Wow, I see how it is. Pretty sure Doctor Hottie and I are the same age.” I could be wrong; I’ve actually never asked him how old he is, not like it matters. I’m at the beautiful, golden age where I could date him or his dad and be perfectly content.

Well, maybe not his dad in particular, but you know what I mean.

There’s an audible click of plastic when I shut the PA system down. With the fakest stern look I can muster, I narrow my eyes at Mirabelle. “Way to blow our cover.”

Laughing, she reverses her wheelchair, shaking her head. “That was all you, Nurse Tinsel-tits.”

At twelve years old, her sass knows no bounds. I’m going to miss her when she gets discharged tomorrow morning. It was a real Christmas miracle Doctor Hottie was able to work his magic on her open leg fracture, but now it’s time for my new friend to go home.

“Blowin’ this popsicle stand in a couple hours, and she loses all sense of decency for her favorite nurse in the whole wide world.

You know what? I’ll remember that next time you’re here.

” Which I hope is never. I adore all my patients, but I always hope to never see them again.

At least not within these four very bleak, very sterile walls.

Her eyes widen a fraction. “I don’t wanna come back.” A visible shudder racks her petite frame, and I can tell I accidentally struck a chord.

Smoothing her hair, I boop her on the tip of her nose. “Don’t worry, sugar plum. You’re not invited back.”

Mirabelle laughs and rolls her eyes. “Works for me.”

“Come on, let’s get you back to your room. You should’ve been in there twenty minutes ago! Your nurse is going to kill me!”

“You’re my nurse.”

I feign surprise, my hand pressing against my chest. “And the best nurse in this place!”

Pushing her wheelchair down the hall, I take Mirabelle back to her room which overlooks the super amazing—insert sarcasm—aesthetic of the boring parking lot.

It’s no wonder she’s been going out of her mind for the last three days. I’ve been trying to keep her company as much as I possibly can, but a girl’s got to work. My patient list is a mile long.

It is the holidays after all. There’s no shortage of accidents, and although I have a preference for working with kids, it’s still my first year, and I’m stuck going where they tell me.

At least they let me wear pink scrubs every day.

That being said, I’ve spent every extra minute I have keeping Mirabelle entertained.

Some patients you just connect with, and she and I bonded quickly.

Although, I’ve learned two very interesting facts about my patient here that make my opinion of her slightly askew.

She does not love the holly jolly season like I do—she thinks it’s too cheerful.

Too.

Cheerful.

Is there even such a thing?

Mirabelle also said she prefers to celebrate Halloween!

Can you believe that?

Her argument? The candy is better.

The thought makes me laugh all over again—how freaking ridiculous.

She tilts her head back to look up at me. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” I singsong as we enter her room. “I’m just going to miss you. That’s all.”

“I’m going to miss you too, Nurse Gen.”

This—this moment right here, knowing Mirabelle is on the road to a complete recovery and being discharged just in time to spend one of the most joyous times of the year with her family, is why I worked myself to the bone by pulling long days in nursing school, just to spend even longer hours at the hospital.

Knowing I’ve done everything I can to care for this sweet girl brings me the greatest sense of peace and fulfillment.

When I started at the hospital, I was fresh-faced, doe-eyed, and excited for a new start.

My first day went off without a hitch, followed by my first week, but then a few days after that, the universe decided it was time for my luck to run out.

Late for my shift, I practically levitated through the hospital to get to a patient's room, only to turn a sharp corner and run directly into him.

Doctor Lincoln Stokes.

Surgeon.

Tall.

Handsome.

Respected.

Blond.

And I know what you’re thinking. Blond? No way blonds are—

Stop it.

One look at him and you’ll be ripping your panties from your body and slingshotting them just so he has something that belongs to you.

This is probably the part of the story where I should tell you a teensy, weensy, little problem with my good ol’ pal Lincoln, though.

He hates me.

Okay, maybe hate is too strong of a word, but he certainly isn’t my biggest fan.

You see, my best friend is dating his cousin, and while you may be thinking, Genesis, that’s a good thing!

No, it’s not.

No, it’s not.

Because now, instead of seeing him in the hospital hierarchy as someone I need to be on my best behavior around, I take every opportunity I can just to mess with him. Hence the paging Doctor Hottie prank.

That may have been Mirabelle’s idea…kind of.

Part of it.

Anyway, shockingly, Lincoln hasn’t gotten me transferred—or fired—yet.

Yet.

I suspect it’ll be coming at some point though, but it’ll be a Christmas miracle if it doesn’t.

An overly dramatic huff of annoyance sounds from my left, along with the squeak of tennis shoes hitting the shining linoleum floor of the cafeteria as the owner of said huff and shoes draws near.

When the scolding leaves his lips, the gruff tone pierces the quiet.

“Those announcements were extremely inappropriate, Nurse Nikolaou.” With his arms crossed over his chest, Linc—Doctor Stokes, since evidently we're being professional right now—comes to a stop next to my table with a scowl on his face.

I flip the page in my home decor magazine, Flawless Design, not giving him the attention I know he’s waiting for. Pretty sure this issue is from six years ago, but I liked the Christmas tree on the front of it and figured it was worth the flip. Plus, I had a feeling he’d come find me.

Not taking my eyes off the pages, I feign boredom. “I don’t know what you’re referring to, Doctor.”

“Yes you do.” He rips the magazine from my hands, forcing my gaze to move to his. “Paging Doctor Hottie? Really, Gen?”

“Oh, wow!” I press my hand to my chest. “How big your ego must be. There are many attractive doctors in this hospital, Lincoln. Who said you were the one being paged?”

“I—” He stops, closing his mouth as he processes what I just said. Blowing out an exasperated breath, he narrows his eyes at me. “You’re a great nurse, Genesis, but you need to work on your professionalism.”

“Relax, Ebenezer. It’s the holidays! Have some fun. Pull the candy cane out of your butt—or don’t.” I lift my shoulders. “I don’t judge.”

“Jesus,” he mutters, shaking his head.

With silent laughter, I pick my magazine back up and find where I left off before it was so rudely snatched from my hands.

Lincoln is a difficult one to read.

At the hospital, he always acts like I am the biggest thorn in his side—a nuisance he doesn’t want to deal with.

But when we’re interacting in a social setting, with his cousin and my best friend, things are different.

Although he still doesn’t act as if he likes me entirely, he definitely tolerates me more. We have a total frenemy situation going on, and frankly, I’m not sure how I feel about it.

I like him, which feels silly to even say as a grown woman, but I do.

My entire body and soul react when he’s around, and it’s a visceral feeling I can’t explain, since we bicker more than we get along.

But right now—with him standing so close, his heavy gaze set on me—I can’t help but squirm in my seat.

Flipping through the magazine a bit more, I ignore the silence between us and pretend to focus on the brightly lit Christmas trees and perfectly placed garland in the staged house glossing the pages.

Closing the cover, I place it down on the table, pick up my gingerbread latte, and take another sip. It’s not very good, but the cafeteria staff gets a gold star for even attempting to create festive beverages.

Christmas is my absolute favorite holiday, and I’ll enjoy every morsel of this drink, even if it tastes like old dishwater.

Since I was a little girl, my parents always went above and beyond to make the holiday magic come alive for all of us. I have a big family—four sisters, three brothers, and my parents have two dogs, too. The Christmas season is a big deal in my family, but this year looks a little different for me.

Gone are the cold December nights spent cuddled under a snowman blanket, sipping peppermint hot cocoa, and watching Christmas movies at my parents’ house with whoever’s able to join.

This year, it’s been me who hasn’t been there—my once cozy evenings are spent burning calories instead of consuming them, racing from patient to patient.

Of course, my family still includes me, whether it be through video chats or supplying me with this year’s matching holiday gear—they make sure my holiday spirit is bright, even with my absence.

This year, my mom, sisters, and I bought matching red sequin hair bows with a candy cane in the center, and I’ve been wearing it practically every day at the hospital. It brings a smile to my face to see the patients’ joyous faces when they see me decked out with extra holly jolly cheer.

“What’s funny?” Lincoln grunts, reminding me of his presence, although really, how could I forget?

Stretching my silence, I finish the last sip of my mediocre latte and tap my foot in time to “Here Comes Santa Claus”.

“Nothing.” I scrunch my shoulders, then peek at the clock on the wall, noting I have about twenty minutes left of my break.

Briefly, our eyes meet as I stand, making me pause. I can feel Lincoln’s gaze following me as I head to the trashcan to toss the empty cup. Walking out of the cafeteria, a smile tugs my lips knowing I’ve had the last word.

That will drive him crazy.

Heading back to the floor I’m working on today, I go into the nurses’ lounge to spend my last few minutes of my break in solitude.

Popping in an earbud, I call my best friend and drop onto the black leather couch that faces a large window, overlooking the busy freeway.

Cars pass in a blur as I kick my feet up, settling in.

“Hey, Zee,” I say as soon as her voice singsongs a greeting from the other end.

“How’s Pebbles?” My Great Dane is spoiled rotten whenever I’m on a long shift.

I have a pet service who comes to walk her, but since Zee lives in my building, she will often head over a couple times a day to check on my girl.

I try to always return the favor by checking on her cat, Potato, whenever she’s up in Julian at her boyfriend Miller’s house.

Miller owns a Christmas tree lot, and she’s been up there frequently, helping with the busy season.

“Pebbles is amazing, as always,” she promises. “I actually brought her over to my place today, and Potato was excited to have a friend!”

Potato’s never excited about anything, let alone seeing Pebbles. That cat has one mood—grumpy.

I laugh. “Yeah, right.”

“How is your shift going?” she asks, the sound of a door closing in the background.

“Long. I’d much rather be baking Christmas cookies right now, but you know I’m on the crazy hours work grind these days.”

“Totally get it. Well, I’m making Miller go caroling this weekend if you want to come with us,” she offers, and I hear him groan in the background.

“Say less, I’ll be there. Should I buy us matching sweaters?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“You’re right, a foolish one. I’ll place a pickup order and swing by the store after my shift. Any preference?”

“Nope!” she pops her p. “Whatever you think is cute, I’ll think is cute.”

“Love that for us. I’ll get Miller one, too.”

“Not necessary!” he yells from a distance.

Both Zee and I start laughing. Pulling the phone from where it’s cradled against my shoulder, I check the time. “Alright, I gotta run, my break is just about over.”

Before I hang up, I can’t help but pull up my shopping app to see what I can add for a pickup order.

“Sounds good,” Zee says in response. “I’ll probably check on Pebbles one more time tonight.”

“You don’t have to, I have the pet service coming over to walk and feed her. She’ll be fine, but thanks for checking on her earlier!”

HA! Bingo. I add three ugly sweaters to my cart, and man, do these take the spiced cake on ugliness.

“Anytime! You know I’m always happy to help. I’ll see you tomorrow! Get home safely.”

“See you tomorrow!” Hanging up the phone, I finish placing my order, then toss it onto the couch next to me, rolling my neck from side to side.

I’ve been up for nearly twenty-four hours, and I’m absolutely exhausted, but there’s still a few hours left on my shift. I should have slept while I could, but sleeping while at work takes some getting used to.

Dragging my eyes to the window, I notice the clouds darkening as they roll in. What started out as a sunny day here in San Diego, now looks as dreary and bleak as an afternoon in Washington. A shiver runs through me as I think about living somewhere that constantly rains—no thank you!

With that being said, San Diego hasn't had rain in a while, though, at least in the last few weeks. I wonder if we’re about to be hit with a winter storm.

I really hope that’s not the case considering Christmas is in two weeks, but I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

I guess it’d be kind of fun to have a white Christmas for once…