Home > Dirty Doctor (Steamy Coffee Reads #2)(17)

Dirty Doctor (Steamy Coffee Reads #2)(17)
Author: Whitney G.

PS — How much longer are you going to keep this shit up?

—Dr. Ashton

Her phone buzzed against the table and she swiped her screen, typing a message right back to me.

Subject: Re: New Study/Course

Yes, I did finish reading that study. I truly enjoyed reading it — thank you, and I would definitely like to take the online course.

PS — As long as it takes for you to treat me like your resident (or your friend) again. Boss-employee relationship or not, I don’t appreciate the way you talked to me.

PSS — For the record, you are, BY FAR, the most unprofessional doctor I have ever worked with in my career.

—Dr. Madison

Subject: Re: Re: New Study/Course

I’ll pay for it as soon as I get back to my office and forward you the login information. You can start taking the course next week.

PS — A friend wouldn’t have stood me up at the last minute without giving me a reason. Boss-employee relationship or not, I don’t appreciate the way you stood me up.

PSS — You haven’t worked in this field long enough to actually have a “career.”

—Dr. Ashton

Subject: Re: Re: Re: New Study/Course

I can start taking the course when I feel like it ... And the only reason I stood you up — a VERY, VERY GOOD REASON might I add — is because I didn’t want to start my new job with the weight of previously sleeping with my boss on my shoulders. I didn’t want to have the memory of being beneath you in your bed every time we worked together here ...

—Dr. Madison

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Study/Course

You really need to work on your use of CAPS LOCK. You’re emphasizing all of the wrong words. And for the record ... IF you had actually shown up, you wouldn’t have had the memory of being beneath me in my bed at all.

I would’ve had you on all fours ...

—Dr. Ashton

THE RESIDENT

New York, New York

Natalie

I now regret ever saying that working in a private practice was less challenging than working in a hospital. This was, by far, much harder and I was struggling for the first time in my career.

I’d foolishly thought that my first few weeks were a blueprint of what I’d be doing for the rest of my residency — simply shadowing Dr. Ashton or another doctor for a few months at a time and taking tests here or there. But the second the program coordinators sat me down in a private boardroom and laid out more of the program specifics and how it was about to change, I realized I was in over my head.

Mondays through Wednesdays were the days I spent with Dr. Ashton, the tension between us growing hotter and more explosive by the second. The lustful energy was practically palpable each time we shared the same room. It was becoming so obvious, that in the middle of our last session with a woman who was suffering from misplaced anger issues, she stopped mid-speech and looked at both of us, yelling, “Jesus! Would the two of you just fuck already?”

Thursdays were the “research days” when I spent hours on the third floor of the practice, conducting studies in the lab — splitting my time between the psychologist and the psychiatrist. (And since this was only one day a week, they both gave me enough ‘solo study’ work, so that I had to come in on the weekends and finish. I never finished ...)

The worst day of all though was Friday, which was definitely a cruel joke on me by the universe. Fridays were designated to be “as needed day” which meant that even if I were in the middle of completing a research assignment or catching up on some charting that was long overdue, if any of the board doctors needed me to do something they didn’t want to do, I was their girl.

And they definitely made me their girl.

My Fridays were a never-ending reel of mending minor sutures, “I just want someone to listen to me for twenty minutes,” sessions, basic physical checkups, rectal exams, lab test screenings, “please retrieve the nurse’s notes on my patient’s family history from twenty years ago now, please” demands. They started the second I walked through the door at seven o’clock in the morning, and I was lucky to get out the doors of Park Avenue Wellness by ten o’clock at night.

So, technically, I dreaded Fridays, but I also dreaded Thursdays because they cruelly pushed me into those Fridays without a second thought.

“You look like absolute shit today.” Shannon plopped down next to me on our couch late Thursday night. “Like, you’re naturally gorgeous— usually, but I can barely even recognize you right now with those big ass grey bags under your eyes.”

She leaned closer and sniffed me. “And what is that smell? Have you not showered at all this week?”

“Thank you so much, Shannon,” I said. “I can always count on you to make me feel better about my life.”

“You’re very welcome.”

I wiggled my way out of my sweater and tossed it across the room. “A doctor caught me on the way out today and asked me to help him hold a baby while he set up the room for a CAT scan. The baby looked at me for two seconds and vomited all over me. It’s like she wanted to confirm the state of my life for me, you know?”

“I’m sorry.” She laughed and gave me a side hug. “On the plus side, you’re one of the highest-paid residents in the state. You make fifteen thousand more than me a year by working there, so that has to count for something, right?”

I slowly turned my head to face her and gave her a blank stare.

She laughed even harder. “How are things with the dirty doctor?”

   
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