Chapter 3
Serena
It’s been four days since the coffee incident. Four days of running around the clinic like a madman, just to get home, take care of Belle and crash. Only to wake up to do it all over again.
Like I’m in my own personal hell, reliving the same day over and over again. Now I know how Bill Murray felt in that one movie.
It’s also been four days of arriving at the cafe and my drink is already waiting for me. The first time it happened, it caught me by surprise. By the third time, I expected it.
And still, I don’t know how I feel about it. I know it’s just a cup of coffee, but somehow it feels like something more than that. It shouldn’t matter this much. But it does.
One simple order of coffee feels like a gesture from someone paying attention to me in a way that I’m not used to. An act that disrupts the chaos of my day every morning. And were it to stop, I think I would be disappointed.
I haven’t seen Tyler for two days now. Which isn’t abnormal for him lately. Frankly, it is starting to piss me off.
At least pretend to be interested in me.
Thank heavens it is Friday. After the week I have had, I am ready to unwind. A hot cup of tea, a smutty book and dog cuddles on the couch are calling my name.
I just finished rooming a thirteen-year-old boy and his older brother. He’s a sweet kid who busted his lip skateboarding, giving himself a good-sized hole in his bottom lip where his teeth went through. Thankfully, it’s small enough that it should heal pretty well on its own.
The gash on his forehead, however, is a different story.
A steady stream of deep crimson runs down the left side of his face. After cleaning the area, I can see that the laceration measures about an inch in length and deep enough the fatty tissue is visible.
Because he is a minor, we can’t treat him without parental permission. While the receptionist called his mother to get the all clear to do what we need to do, I brought him to Room 3 and got him cleaned up.
I close the door and leave the bleeding teen and his brother in the room to wait. Before I go to the back offices, I check with Bethany and confirm that she was able to speak with the mother. She gives me a quick nod and I walk down the hall, heading right into the providers’ office.
I peek my head into the open door. “Dr. Albertson, your patient in Room 3 is ready for you. He has a pretty gnarly laceration on the left side of his forehead.”
Dr. Albertson turns to face me. “Were we able to get ahold of his parent or guardian?”
“Yes. Bethany was able to get her on the phone and get verbal permission to treat him, and perform any necessary procedures. She is on her way from work now to pick him up.”
“Fantastic. And di-“
“Suture kit is already set up on the surgical tray table. I am going to room Jennifer’s two o’clock since they are here early, and then I’ll be right in to help.”
He chuckles. “I don’t know why I doubt you.”
“Honestly Doctor, I don’t know why you do either.” I smirk and leave the office.
Up near the front desk next to the door that leads out to the waiting room are the color coordinated files that hold the patient’s information for the medical assistant. Turquoise for Dr. Anderson and green for Jennifer.
I walk up to the side desk and give Bethany a quick smile. She returns mine with one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I shake it off, grab the green folder and open the door to the waiting room.
Propping the door open with my foot, I read the name at the top of the paper. “Isaac Moreno.”
I am still reading over the paper when the patient walks by me and passes by me through the door. Suddenly, my nose is filled with a deep oak and leather smell with a hint of vanilla. Quickly glancing up, I see the back of his head and start walking ahead of him down the hall.
Something about him seems familiar.
“Good afternoon Mr. Moreno. My name is Serena and I will be your medical assistant for today.” I give my typical greeting as we approach the next available room.
He follows me inside the room, and I shut the door behind us. Without a single glance at him yet, I make my way to the right-hand side of the room to the supply cabinets with the sink.
“If you could, please just verify your name and date of birth for me so I can make sure I have the right patient.” Setting the green folder on the counter, I turn the sink on and begin washing my hands.
“Isaac Moreno. May seventh of nineteen-ninety five.” A deep voice, smooth like velvet, replies.
My spine stiffens and my eyes round.
That voice. I know that voice.
“Is everything ok?” His words barely register.
Heat rushes up my body and my cheeks flush. A low huff of amusement sounds behind me
“I thought you couldn’t stand me. And yet, here you are. Your face turning the prettiest shade of pink.”
My head shoots up and our eyes lock in the mirror. Shit.
I swallow the lump that has formed in my throat before clearing it and rinse off my hands. “What makes you think I can’t stand you? I don’t even know you.” Try as I might, I can’t hide the shakiness of my voice.
A deep warm sound rumbles through his chest and an unfamiliar feeling starts pooling at the base of my stomach.
“Oh I don’t know,” he replies. “Our conversation at the café comes to mind.” He casually crosses his left leg over his right and leans back in the chair, hands lacing behind his head like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
The movement is so casual, it’s a bit infuriating. And sexy. It does something to me that I really don’t want to analyze at this moment. But probably should later.
What is it about a man sitting in this way that affects me so much?
The apples of my cheeks turn red when I recall our brief meeting at the café, and my less than polite response.
“Umm… yeah. About that...” I trail off as I hold out my hand for his.
He drops his hands from behind his head, and I grab his wrist. “I’m not normally so rude.
” Placing my two fingers on the indent just below the base of his thumb, I watch the clock and silently count in my head.
Finishing his pulse check, I release his hand and turn away from him.
“That’s quite alright. I like feisty.” He teases.
I feel his eyes watching me as I cross the room to get the blood pressure cuff from the wall. I can all but feel them linger on my ass and I have to force myself not to react. I haven’t been this nervous since my first day as an intern.
You are a professional Serena, act like it.
“If you don’t mind, I need you to take off your jacket so I can take your blood pressure. And uncross your legs please.”
“Of course.”
Issac casually shrugs out of his leather jacket and sets it on the chair next to him. I grab his arm, taking quick notice of how even through his long sleeve white shirt, his arms are perfectly sculpted. He carefully starts rolling up his sleeve and my stomach flutters.
He has a tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve, and I find myself wanting to see more. Wondering where it leads to.
I take a mental note of his blood pressure, the sound of the Velcro releasing fills the silence as I remove the cuff. The energy is so thick I can hardly breathe. Sitting down at the desk across the way from him, I conveniently hide my face with the computer monitor and begin filling out his chart.
“Okay Mr. Moreno-“
“Please, call me Isaac.” He cuts in.
“ Mr . Moreno,” Putting extra emphasis on the Mr. “ What brings you in to see the doctor today?”
My fingers make quick work of the keyboard in front of me inputting his information while I wait for his response. Normally I would have already gathered this, but nothing about this feels normal. He has me so frazzled right now.
Out of all the clinics in the area, he shows up here. Something about that doesn’t feel right, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“It seems that I may have fractured my hand.” He holds up his right arm nonchalantly, putting his bruised and battered hand on full display.
“Mhmm. And how did this happen?”
“Let’s just say I was boxing.” He replies, his voice light and casual.
“Mmm...” Not caring to read further into his obvious lie, I continue clicking away on the keyboard. “And when did this happen?” I just want to get out of this room as quickly as possible.
“Last night.”
A man of few words I see.
Unfortunately, he is a new patient, so I have to gather all his medical history for his chart. Just my luck.
“And your family? Any history of cancer, heart disease, diabetes, or hypertension?”
Silence.
I risk sneaking a glance at him from behind the computer and notice that a muscle feathers in his jaw.
“Mr. Moreno?”
Another long pause before he answered. “I don’t know my family. I was adopted.” By the tone of his voice, I can tell this is a sore subject. I could press further, but I'll move on.
“Okay then. Well, that is all I have for you and the provider will be in shortly.” Without another word, I stand up from the desk, place my stethoscope around my neck, and slip out the door to debrief Jennifer.
Fifteen minutes later, Jennifer exits the room. When I turned around in my chair, I notice her cheeks are a little flushed. Okay, glad to know that it isn’t just me that he affects that way and I’m not totally insane. Right?
“Mr. Moreno is going to need an x-ray. I don’t think his hand is fractured, but we are going to get imaging done to be thorough.” She hands me the patient chart and leaves towards her office.
I call our local imaging clinic and schedule Isaac for the next available appointment later this afternoon. Gathering what I need, I take a deep breath and prepare myself to head back into the room of doom.
I open the door just as Isaac is putting on his jacket. His broad shoulders facing me and my stomach tightens with every ripple of his muscles.
I close the door as he is turning around. “Ah, Serena. I was hoping to see you before I left. I thought I was going to have to come find you.” His lips curl up and expose a dazzling white smile.
I don’t know why, but the fact that he was hoping to see me again gives me butterflies.