Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Maxwell shouldn’t have asked that question, but something was off. He should be doing cartwheels right now, but their entire conversation was odd. Jasmine’s reaction wasn’t anywhere near normal.
“I wouldn’t say used,” she said, sounding offended.
Maxwell cocked his head to the side. “What word would you use?”
She arched an eyebrow. “You want me to explain?”
“Humor me.”
She stared at him. After a brief moment, she quietly closed the door and took the kind of deep breath that came before a carefully worded explanation.
“I was upfront with you that I wasn’t looking for anything serious. You agreed. We had a good time. So used wouldn’t be the appropriate word here, since we both got what we wanted.”
“True, true,” Maxwell admitted, nodding his head. “But sometimes people change their minds based on the circumstances.”
“Well, I didn’t.” She paused. “Did you?”
The question rocked him. Yes, he’d had a good time with her, but he hadn’t expected anything more. He certainly wasn’t looking for a relationship. So why was her nonchalant attitude bothering him so much?
“No, I didn’t change my mind.”
“Then what’s the problem? I was honest with you. You were honest with me. I wasn’t surprised when I woke up and you were gone.” She shrugged.
Her dismissive shrug grated during an already uniquely irritating conversation. Nothing she said made sense. Women didn’t operate this way. At least, not in his experience.
“Am I not your type or something?” Maxwell asked. He needed answers. His logical brain couldn’t compute what was happening. There had to be a reasonable explanation for her behavior.
“Um...”
“You think I’m too nice?”
“No, I don’t think that,” she said with a little laugh.
He didn’t like the way she answered the question, as if it was absolutely preposterous to believe he was a nice guy.
His back straightened. “What’s the problem with me?” he demanded.
“There’s no problem. You’re just not my type.”
In all his twenty-nine years, Maxwell couldn’t remember ever being told that before. “What the hell is your type?”
Her gaze flickered away from his, dropping to the floor, as she mumbled something he didn’t hear.
“What was that?” Maxwell asked, leaning closer.
Her head snapped up. “Nice guys are my type.”
Damn.
He looked at her, and she looked at him. A muscle knotted in his jaw. “You don’t think I’m a nice guy?”
Her silence was the answer.
“For your information, there are women in this city who would kill for another night with me.”
“Somebody’s a little full of himself,” Jasmine muttered.
“They know a good man—a prize—when they find him.”
“Is the prize in the room with us?” Jasmine looked around, pretending to search.
She was actually dissing him. The hell?
Maxwell clenched his jaw. At this rate, he’d grind his molars smooth before the end of the conversation. “This is a joke, right? Reverse psychology or something?”
“No, Maxwell, I’m genuinely not interested.
I promise I won’t be stalking you.” She spoke in a neutral voice, with no inflection, very even toned.
“You should be glad. Working together could have been really awkward, but luckily, we both know that we’re not what each other is looking for. We had fun and can move on.”
Maxwell felt his shoulders tighten. “The perfect situation.”
“Exactly.” Looking down at her tablet again, Jasmine asked, “Do you have any questions for me? About the practice, I mean.”
He stared at her, with her downcast eyes—a woman who had nonchalantly shredded his ego and appeared completely unbothered. Was she devoid of emotions and feelings? What kind of woman was she?
Had Friday night been an act? He wouldn’t have called their time together a connection, exactly, but they’d enjoyed each other out of bed too.
Or so he thought. They’d had a funny, flirty conversation at the lounge, he had loved dancing with her, and they had shared a couple of laughs back at her apartment during breaks between their intimate moments.
“No questions,” he replied.
“If you think of some later, you know where to find me. Two doors down, and I usually leave my door open unless I’m in a meeting. As a matter of fact, that’s the norm around here. We have an open-door policy.” She tucked the tablet under her arm. “I’ll send you those documents in a little bit.”
After she left, Maxwell stared at the empty doorway, confused by the exchange. Finally, he sighed and sank into the leather chair behind his desk. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t interested. He wasn’t interested, either. This was good.
Perfect.
Wonderful.
Except it wasn’t.
Sure, he wouldn’t have to worry about her hovering around, trying to convince him she was girlfriend material and he should give her chance and start a relationship he had no interest in starting. But her indifference gnawed at him.
He aggressively unzipped his backpack.
He had only brought a few items, but tomorrow he’d bring a box with all his personal belongings—including his diploma—to decorate the office.
The one thing he did bring was a small ceramic bowl, about four inches across, low and wide, the sides unevenly curved. The glaze covering it was a deep blue-green. It had been by his side during his residency. His good luck charm.
Minutes later, he logged into the computer using the username and temporary password Jasmine had provided during the orientation.
She had already sent him an email with attachments.
Putting her and her odd behavior out of his mind, he went to work immediately, filling out the forms so that he could be added to the system and get paid.
He spent the rest of the day getting acclimated, chatting with the employees and learning his way around the office and the network.
He only saw Jasmine one other time, and that was at the front desk when she came by as he was chatting with one of the medical assistants and Keisha.
She didn’t stay long, but he felt her presence after she left, as if her absence created a void in the room.
As Maxwell was writing in his journal at the end of the day, Dr. Roberson rapped his knuckles on the doorframe and peeped in.
“All settled? How was your first day?” the older man asked in a cheery voice.
Maxwell gave him his best smile. “No complaints. It’s been a good day, and I’ve learned a lot.”
“Excellent. I don’t know how familiar you are with the area, but there’s a great lunch spot near here where I’ve been going for years.
They have the best catfish in Atlanta. I’ll take you there.
We can talk about your plans once you’ve had a chance to learn your way around.
Jay and I are open to suggestions at any time, so don’t be shy.
That’s one of the reasons I wanted to hire a younger doctor to the practice.
Old fuddy duddies like me and Dr. Park can get set in our ways. I want new, fresh ideas.”
“I’ll be happy to share my thoughts,” Maxwell said. “And thanks for being so open. I appreciate it.”
He had sensed in the interview that Dr. Roberson was open-minded, yet another reason why he’d wanted to work here. He wouldn’t get condescended to because he was a new doctor.
“You’re welcome. Oh, and before I forget, I’ll be at an educational conference the latter part of next week, but Jay will be here if you have questions. She’s running our first community workshop. If you don’t need anything from me, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Dr. Roberson left, and Maxwell finished writing his notes about his impression of the first day.
He had started journaling his senior year in high school on recommendation of his English teacher.
Back then, it had been hit or miss, but in college putting his thoughts on paper had been particularly helpful to not only reduce stressful moments as he navigated the grueling, unforgiving world of pre-med, but served as a mechanism to track his personal growth.
Looking back at his notes was like reading letters from a younger version of himself, where the anxiety of the early years gave way to a steadiness he hadn’t noticed arriving until he read the proof on the page.
Concrete proof of how far he’d come and a reminder of how much further he intended to go.
Slinging his backpack on his shoulder, he exited the office and walked into the hall. The building was quiet after five with everyone gone, and the parking lot was empty.
“Last man standing,” he said to himself. He climbed into the Range Rover and headed toward home.
Halfway there, the phone rang and Jayson’s name appeared on the screen.
“What’s up?” Maxwell said.
“What’s up with you?” his friend returned. “I’m checking in to see how your first day went.”
“Aww, you’re so sweet,” Maxwell said.
Jayson laughed. “Shut up, man, and just tell me how your first day went.”
Maxwell made a left turn and eased to a stop behind a line of cars.
“It went really well. Dr. Roberson is exactly how I remembered, and I know I’ll learn a lot working with him.
His daughter, Jay, took me through orientation.
” He briefly told him about the staff and the facility.
“By the way, you’ll never guess who Jay is. ”
“I’m not even going to try to guess. Who is she?”
“Jasmine.”
His friend audibly gasped. “Hold up, are you talking about the hottie you left the club with the other night?”
“That’s her. She’s the office manager.”
Jayson let out a high-pitched laugh. “Tell me you’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“What are the chances? What happened? She didn’t freak out on you, did she?”
“Nah, she was actually pretty cool. Answered all my questions and showed me around, like she was supposed to.”
“She wasn’t pissed or anything?”
“Nah. She was fine.”
There was silence on the other end of the line as Jayson digested what Maxwell had told him.
“That’s unusual but good, right? You don’t have to worry about drama at your new job. Unless she’s one of those quiet psychopaths and is biding her time.”
“Don’t jinx me.”
“I’m just saying, man. Women can be tricky, and you know that. I guess you’ll see how things play out over the next few weeks, but if she’s really cool, maybe you could... hit it again?”
The same thought had crossed his mind, but Jasmine didn’t seem remotely interested. “I’ll have to see. I am working for her father.”
“True, you gotta be careful. Things can go left real fast.”
“You know all about that, don’t you?” Maxwell asked.
Jayson groaned. He’d lost a paid internship in college after sleeping with the boss’s daughter.
“Don’t remind me,” he grumbled. “Well, I’m glad to hear you had a good day, and hopefully Jasmine doesn’t turn out to be a stalker or undercover psychopath.”
Maxwell changed lanes to get around a truck. “I don’t think she’s either of those. I’m sure I’m safe.”
“Cool. I’ll check in with you later this week. Maybe we can go hit a club this weekend?”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll catch you later.”
After they hung up, Maxwell replayed the conversation in his mind, tapping his thumb on the leather steering wheel.
He didn’t for one second believe that Jasmine was a quiet psychopath.
Not that he was clairvoyant, but she didn’t give off those vibes.
The only vibes she gave off was that she honestly, really didn’t care that he’d left after they had sex, and she didn’t care that they now had to work together.
Her attitude bothered him. It bothered him a lot.