Page 3

Chapter 2

Aria

A pretty little thing like you.

Um, excuse me? I don't mind flirtatious advances, but not at work. It's unprofessional and...and... No. Just no. I'm certain my cheeks are still red from our unfortunate event that resulted in me crashing to the ground yesterday. Unless they’re beaming because of what he said? The way he looked at me? No, Tobias can go flirt with a broken lamp for all I care.

"Why are you growling at my boobs?"

My eyes lift up to Gabs’ face. I must've been in a daze, wondering why I'm so bothered by such a small incident. "Oh, sorry, Gabs. My head's a bit all over the place."

"Still hung up on Toby?"

"Tobias," I correct, rolling my eyes, hating that I'd told her what happened and dealing with her comments all morning. "And no. I'm thinking about what we're having for dinner later."

She clicks her tongue. "Sure. Then you won't mind if I invite both the assistants along tomorrow?"

"You wouldn't," I say.

She cocks a brow as if to say I totally would.

And the scariest part? I believe her. She knows more than anyone how much I don’t like to mix my work life with my personal life, so asking the assistants to join is a rule I refuse to break. We’re going to a club because she wants to see the band playing, and I, against my own wishes, agreed to join her. Our day off usually consists of me sitting on the hotel bed with my laptop, so maybe a breather will help the nerves I feel about Ivy’s arrival.

But inviting them isn’t going to help me relax. The total opposite, actually.

"Don't you dare." I grit my teeth in a bid to show how angry I am without raising my voice, but it doesn't faze her. I'm not the slightest bit intimidating, not with my small height compared to her towering form. “You know I hate mixing work.”

She shrugs, her eyes going back to her computer. "You have a meeting in ten minutes with Blythe. Maybe Toby will trip you up again."

"Don't start," I say. "It was an accident." I sigh. “And for crying out loud, his name is Tobias.”

She snorts. My best friend may be professional around others, but when it's just us, her fun, playful side comes out. I think that's why we fit so well together. She calls me the grump, whereas she is the life and soul of every party we attend. She vowed to make me as wild as her one day.

I think I’ve done well with letting her have all the wild.

Gabs seems to find my unlucky topple over Tobias hilarious. My first mistake was telling her, though my second and most important was becoming her friend in the first place.

Earlier, she had nudged me with her elbow and winked in his direction when he walked by our meeting room, and then again when he was in the ward's kitchen, studying his tablet intensely.

She even intentionally asked me to grab coffee when she saw him venturing for his own hot drink. It's ridiculous. She's ridiculous. He's ridiculous. Who flirts with someone they just met and tripped up?

Don't get me wrong, it's not that he isn't hot. I just don't have time for romance or distractions, especially with my ex still very much in the picture. We’re technically friends–our breakup was abrupt and I’m still coming to terms with it, but I need space from him until I can figure my own life out.

The meeting with the doctor goes quickly. We discuss Ivy’s likes, dislikes, her sensory issues, and ways to make her feel comfortable here. Once we go over her medical history one last time, he tells me he has assigned me an assistant to help with the workload heading my way.

When the door opens, I glance in its direction as a tall figure steps in, and my gaze darts away when Tobias joins us.

Why is he here? Please don’t tell me?—

“Tobias will be assisting for the next few weeks. He’s a hard worker and a fast learner.”

Tobias smiles as he closes the door, a melting smile that makes me look straight ahead, trying not to show my traitorous blush as he sits down beside me.

"Good afternoon, Doctor," Tobias says in a low tone, legs parted so wide, our knees nearly touch. With an elbow on the armrest, he glances at me. "It's a pleasure to have the opportunity to work with you."

I give him a tight smile, but deep inside, I'm screaming.

He can’t be another Kaleb. He cannot .

When I was in college and on a break from Ewan for months, I was literally obsessed with him. Two years older, hot, the bad boy with a big brain. He asked me for help on a paper he was struggling with, so I met up with him at a coffee shop, then again at his house, and again, and again, until we fell into bed. Let's just say when I found out he had a girlfriend, I raised hell at him for weeks before swearing off anyone in my field. The dread heavy in my gut when I got back together with Ewan and had to tell him about my fling made me sick. I was always honest and open with my ex.

If we get back together again, which I’m still unsure of, my conscience will push me to tell Ewan about Tobias, and nobody wants that.

Which means I need to put a stop to the crawling heat currently wrapping around the apex of my legs. His voice is so deep, so arousing, I can barely think straight.

Once the meeting is over and he's still calling me doctor, I ask Tobias to follow me down to the labs. When we meet with one of the seniors, we begin discussing the most recent tests performed on Ivy and what we plan on doing next now that she has been accepted for a new medical trial.

As I talk, Tobias watches me intently.

He listens with his arms crossed, biceps tensing under his shirt, nodding at everything I say.

He puts on a pair of thick, black framed glasses and takes notes while asking all the right questions, and I must admit, I'm impressed. I think I smile once, maybe twice, when he asks someone about a specific technique.

I learn, whilst sitting in the cafeteria on the third floor, that his full name is Tobias Mitchell. He’s twenty-six and is allergic to cats. Devouring a sandwich, he asks me if I'll need his number to contact him about Ivy's case outside of work.

For once in my life, I don't hesitate. In fact, I probably say yes far too quickly.

"Call me so I can save yours," he tells me.

And I do, happily.

In this moment, I feel myself inwardly sighing as Gabriella appears in the cafeteria, waving like a lunatic. But thankfully, Doctor Shique, another specialist who flew over from Scotland with us, appears behind her, ushering her towards another table with a file in his hands.

From where I'm sitting, I can see Tobias' screen as he saves my number as "Doctor Miller".

He just lost ten points.

I narrow my eyes at him as he looks down at his phone.

"Do you have set shifts here, or has Blythe given you the go-ahead to come as you please?"

"Say that again." He tilts his head in confusion. "You talk so fast."

"What is your schedule?" I clarify, speaking a little slower.

"Ah, eight till eight, but I can rearrange it earlier or later if that doesn't work for you?"

I shake my head. "That works fine. Are you staying near the hospital?"

"My house is about fifty minutes away."

I sip my drink. "Do you drive?"

"I do. I usually pick Justin up on the way here."

"Is he the other assistant?" I ask, knowing he has been assigned to Gabriella. Which, in all honesty, I feel bad for him. She might be fun on the outside, but she's a bossy bitch and extremely demanding when it comes to work. It suits her, gets her to where she wants to be with her workload, so I just wave it off whenever she's being moody.

"I was actually supposed to be your colleague’s assistant, but Justin insisted he would work better with her."

I snort. She will eat him alive.

By the time we finish and my shift comes to an end, I say goodbye to everyone and head to the hotel.

Gabs won't be back for a few hours–she has a date she matched with on her dating app, so the chances of her coming home at all are slim to none.

I bathe in the hotel bathtub and relax with music playing, reading a book. I'm fully immersed in my fictional world when the first message comes through.

TobiasWork: I want to apologize again for tripping you the other day. I was looking at a test Ivy Dermot had a few months back. Is it possible to call and discuss it with you?

Me: Which one? We can look over her files tomorrow.

His reply comes through while I dry myself with a towel and settle into bed.

TobiasWork: She had Pharmacogenetic tests done in April. Was that for the seizure medication you had her put on?

I'm starting to think he's just trying to talk to me. This isn't even slightly necessary, definitely something that can be discussed during work hours. I entertain him by replying with a yes, and then I place my phone on its charging station.

It's nearly ten, and I'm usually asleep by now, but each time my phone dings, I pounce for it. For the next two hours, it's a back and forth discussion about tests and trials that have already been looked at. When I finally tell him this should be something we should be talking about in a meeting or in my temporary office, he quickly apologizes, followed by a "goodnight, Doctor".

Me: If you call me doctor one more time, I will make your position as my assistant hell.

TobiasWork: Oh, really? Is that a threat?

My bottom lip traps between my teeth as I reread the words. This isn't professional at all, right? If someone were to read these messages, they’d assume there was some sort of flirting going on. A shot of excitement runs up my spine at the thought, but I shake my head and reply.

Me: Yes. I wouldn't get on my bad side, Tobias.

TobiasWork: Sounds like a challenge, Doctor.

I send a smiley emoji so he knows I'm not too serious, slapping myself on the forehead when I realize it definitely is flirting. When he replies with a wink, I toss my phone to the floor with a groan.

As soon as we get into work the following morning, Gabriella has made plans for us tonight.

Tobias sits on his phone most of the day instead of helping me, and every time I ask him to look at something, he apologizes and rushes out of the room.

I understand emergencies, but a little communication helps a lot.

I'm left to do all the paperwork, all the phone calls, and my assistant seems to have vanished off the face of the Earth.

Not the flirty one in the messages at all. He seems stressed and anxious. He fidgets, runs his hands through his hair, and stares at the same page for nearly two hours on the opposite side of my desk. He simply hums when I ask if everything is okay.

When Gabs comes in and says it's time to go, he gets to his feet and doesn't spare either of us a glance as he leaves the room.

Gabriella raises a brow. "What's up his ass?"