One trip down the stairs, caused by a lone Lego, while wrapped in a
towel, spewing a plethora of profanities, and my cell phone went flying.
I landed on my ass, and then the ER.
Between those two occurrences was a FaceTime call, placed by a bouncing
phone, to the number of a man I didn't even truly look at, who had now
seen more of my body than anyone had since my Tinder days, over a year
ago.
Three declined calls later, I limped out the door to get myself to the
ER before starting my hectic day.
The ER was packed, but when I saw Nurse Bridget, one of my students'
mothers, I pleaded my case, and she hurried me into an examination room.
An hour later, I left on crutches with a bruised ass, a fractured ankle,
and an appointment to see an orthopedic surgeon at four p.m.
Arriving 15 minutes late for that appointment, I heard the sexy yet very
brash accent of a man who clearly had an obsession with punctuality and
had, apparently, no bedside manner. Dr. Ethan Stewart, tall,
copper-haired, sinfully sexy...was a total ass.
After a tongue-lashing about how irresponsible I was to, first, leave
the ER with such an injury, and second, be late, I put him in his
place...or so I thought.
Turned off by his arrogant attitude, turned on by the roguish glint in
his green eyes and the way he spoke, I left his office a hot...and wet
mess.
Upon exiting, my phone rang again. It was the same number from before,
and I couldn't help answering to give the caller a piece of my mind.
Once in my car, I hung up, tossed my phone on the passenger seat, and
then looked out the window to see him with his phone to his ear and a
grin spread across his far too handsome face. It couldn't be.... Could
it?
