Page 18 of Getting Off

“That’s right,” Dylan said with a glance in the rearview mirror at Lucas.

Then he turned and squeezed Brooklyn’s thigh affectionately.

“I know I usually sound like an ass, but I’d be willing to be part of any educational efforts you want to make, Doctor Beautiful.

I’d love it if you looked over our safety procedures and course materials at the club. ”

“Really?” Brooklyn looked surprised and deeply pleased. Watching the eager gleam in her eyes really did something to him.

He had always intended to fund the trauma center, but now it had become a lot more personal.

He wanted to make this woman happy.

Brooklyn felt like her head was spinning. She hadn’t expected so much support. Especially since she knew she came off as so intense about the issue that she was usually forced to dial it back with a cool professional demeanor.

“I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you’re both taking this seriously.”

“This doesn’t mean I’m wearing a helmet when operating a regular motor vehicle,” Dylan quipped. “I have to put my foot down somewhere.”

Dylan pulled off the highway into a gravel parking lot before a lodge building that looked as if it had been here since miners and trappers had first settled the area.

Brooklyn began teasing Dylan about all the safety equipment she was going to buy for him to model for her educational ad campaigns and the helmet she was going to make him wear in the shower, in case he slipped.

Dylan seemed more than a little appalled at the thought. That made her laugh.

It seemed so surreal to think that they’d been casual and even nonexistent acquaintances two weeks ago.

But it was Sunday evening again. They had to go back to the real world tomorrow.

These stolen weekends when she didn’t work were magical.

But the world of regular jobs and commitments and things that took them away from one another loomed on the horizon again.

“Enough about safety,” Dylan finally griped. “Let’s get some food.”

“Spoken like a man after my own heart,” Lucas agreed.

Both men grinned at each other, sharing one of those bro moments. Brooklyn watched the two of them and felt a warm glow of appreciation for these them both. They’d helped her melt a few layers of frost to discover her passion for life once again. She could never repay that favor.

A well of emotion bubbled up in her heart, and Brooklyn slipped her arm around Dylan’s waist and Lucas’s waist when they were out of the truck. It felt good to be between them.

The three of them headed for the building’s entrance. It was cool inside and smelled of the most incredible French fries and the kind of cheeseburgers with bacon that could bring a strong man to his knees. Her stomach growled.

“I don’t know if it’s just because I’m starving or what,” she said. “But it smells incredible. I might have to get my cholesterol checked tomorrow, but tonight will be worth it.”

“Tonight,” Dylan teased her, “we’re all going to work off a million calories. And that’s all I have to say about that.”

They were still laughing together when Brooklyn’s phone started ringing inside her little clutch purse. Ever mindful of the possibility of a patient needing her or a hospital emergency, Brooklyn politely excused herself and walked outside of the restaurant again.

She plugged her left ear and pressed the phone to her right to hear clearly. “This is Dr. Foster.”

“Foster, I want to know what in the hell I’m watching right now!”

The voice was familiar, but it took her a second to place it. She didn’t recognize Harvey Gibson’s voice until he had launched into a tirade about some video footage that had been sent to him by a “concerned colleague.”

“Mr. Gibson, I apologize, I don’t understand what you’re referring to,” Brooklyn said quickly. Had he seen something on the hospital security cameras that upset him? If so, what could it be?

“Let me make this clear!” Gibson was practically shouting into the phone. “I’m watching a viral video of you getting out of a truck after speeding your way across the desert! And then you got out—clearly you, Dr. Foster, clearly you —and you use blatant and offensive obscenities.”

The bottom dropped out of Brooklyn’s stomach.

She didn’t know what to say, so she blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“I was wearing a helmet and full safety gear, sir. As for swearing…” She tried to come up with an excuse and only got angry.

What was this? A convent? She couldn’t use a little rough language like the boys?

Only male doctors were allowed to curse? What kind of bullshit was this?

“It looks abominable,” Dr. Gibson snarled. “The whole thing is a PR disaster. I was told this filth has gone viral, embarrassing the hospital millions of times.”

Her heart was pounding at what felt like a thousand beats per minute. Her hand was shaking as her grip tightened down on her phone. A sick dread filled her stomach. She’d definitely lost her appetite.

“Mr. Gibson,” she said carefully. “I can explain everything—”

“I want you in here on Monday,” Gibson said. “We can discuss your candidate status for the new trauma center in detail then. I assure you, I have much to say.”

Her hand was shaking even more as she disconnected and put the phone back in her clutch purse.

Her brain felt full of cotton, her thoughts sluggish and unfocused.

She remembered being filmed. She remembered being caught up in the moment and shouting something.

But that had been on her own personal time.

How the hell had Gibson ever found that video?

Someone must have sent it to him. He’d mentioned a concerned colleague.

Her competition for the position, maybe?

He said it had gone viral. She didn’t watch many videos online, so she didn’t have much experience with what that meant exactly when it came to scope.

But right now, Dr. Harvey Gibson’s threat was clear.

It had endangered her candidacy, her dream chance to run the trauma center, and Gibson had never been her best cheerleader in the first place.

She walked back inside on legs that felt like stilts. Both men were waiting for her. As soon as they saw her, their faces changed to nearly identical expressions of concern.

“What’s wrong?” Dylan immediately asked when she reached them.

The hostess was waiting to seat them, watching them expectantly.

“I want to sit down,” Brooklyn said, her voice sounding cold and detached to her own ears.

Lucas slipped an arm around her waist and her two men escorted her to the table. She sagged into the chair as a server brought them drinks.

When they were alone again, Lucas looked at her sharply. “What happened, Brooklyn?”

“I got videoed driving Bubba,” she said. “That morning after we got stuck out in the desert. Remember?”

“Hell, yeah, I remember that,” Dylan said. “You were awesome.”

But Lucas seemed to see the problem faster than Dylan. His lips thinned into a tight line, and his expression darkened. “Who saw the video?”

“Dr. Harvey Gibson,” Brooklyn replied.

Lucas let out a long exhale of breath.

Dylan only looked confused. “A doctor saw it? So what?”

She turned to explain. “He’s the chief of staff at the hospital. He doesn’t really want me to head the new trauma center. He doesn’t think I liaise and fundraise effectively enough. I’m not a good glad-handing schmoozer, in other words.”

“So it’s hospital politics bullshit?” Dylan asked, still looking a bit lost.

“Maybe. He thinks I’ve…I don’t know. Shamed myself and embarrassed the hospital.”

Lucas put his arm around her. “You’re the best candidate to head up this trauma center. He’ll see reason.”

“What if he doesn’t?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Lucas’s dark eyes hardened. “He wants funding and donations for the trauma center, doesn’t he? Maybe he needs the right person to discuss things with him.”

“Or I could wreck his car,” Dylan said, rubbing his chin. “What does he drive? I bet it’s a Beemer.”

Lucas snorted. “Don’t waste your time, Dylan. Believe me, money talks with administrators. They’re all the same.”

Brooklyn didn’t take her eyes off Lucas. She leaned forward, grabbing his hand. “Don’t. Don’t ever do that. This isn’t about me. The city needs the trauma center. I don’t want you holding out for me. I don’t want any special treatment. I must earn this, or I don’t deserve it.”

“I admire that,” Lucas said grimly. “But things don’t always work that way in real life.”

“Promise me you won’t interfere.”

He hesitated long enough for her to feel a spike of concern.

“Promise me.”

“If that’s what you want,” Lucas finally said. “But I’m worried you’re making a mistake.”

“I’m not. Trust me on this. I can handle it.”