Avoiding Amy Jackson (4 page)

“Aw, the poor, rich trauma surgeon, not wanting people to think he’s pretentious,” I cajole with a smirk at Elle, and she endeavors to hide her laughter with a cough.

“I’m ignoring both of you right now,” Trent pronounces sternly and strains to hide the fact that he actually finds us both funny.

“I’m not ignoring both of you right now. Especially Amy. I’m
never
ignoring
Amy
.” James’s deep, masculine voice does things to me that I refuse to admit.

Fucking Limp Dick.

“Well, I’m ignoring you, and now I’m pretty sure I have better things to do today. Places to be. Dicks to ride. Not that you would know anything about that.” I throw a caustic glare James’s way and he just grins in my direction.

A shocked noise escapes Ellen’s throat, and I have a hard time comprehending that my candid, sarcastic jabs can still surprise her. “Can we just move my shit without discussing masturbation, dick-riding, and anything else that might be going through you pervy assholes’ heads?”

“
Masturbation
? Wait, what did I miss?” James glances back and forth between Ellen and me and then sets his sights on Trent. He silently bids him with some type of non-verbal man-code.

“Don’t even think about it,” Ellen warns Trent.

“Sorry, man. Ellie would cut my balls off if I even utter a word about that conversation.”

“Pussy,” James retorts, trying to entice Trent into giving the low-down by threatening his manhood.

“Calling me a pussy isn’t going to get me to tell you anything.” Trent sits next to Ellen on the now bare mattress. “You owe me
big time,
little spitfire.” His suggestive smile makes her grin back at him like a lovesick fool. She pokes his chest with her finger before he pulls her into a tight hug with a low growl.

I raise both of my hands up in the air. “All right, I’m out of here before you two start going at it in front of us.” I head for the door and stride into the hallway. I make it halfway to my room before strong arms pull my body back into a masculine, warm chest. The scent of James clings to my nostrils, and I can’t help the shaky breath that escapes my throat.

Peppermint and cedar and clean laundry.

“So that’s how it is? You’re just going to leave me with those two?” James whispers into my ear. Pieces of my dark locks blow away from my face.

“You got it, and I’m finding a hell of a lot of enjoyment out of it, too.” I close my eyes and fight the urge to turn into his embrace and kiss the daylights out of him.

James runs his fingers up and down my arms, creating a path of chill bumps. “It’s been two months. How long are you going to hold that night against me?”

I swallow against the dryness in my mouth, trying to gain some semblance of a hold on the sexual frustration that’s coursing through my veins. “Forever
.
”

James laughs into my hair and rubs his nose back and forth against my neck. “You can keep making these weak threats, but I’m just going to tell you one thing. They aren’t scaring me into giving up. I’ll keep trying, doll. I’ll keep trying until you can’t resist me and my persistent charm”

Persistent charm?
Pffft
.

I step away from his embrace and turn to face him, his green eyes filled with heat, intensity, and an overpowering amount of raw, sexual pull. I take a much-needed breath. I
need
to force air into my lungs and gain at least an iota of defiance and pride. “I
never
make
weak
threats, Dr. Limp Dick.”

“
Dr. Limp Dick?”
The jerk smiles at me—
fucking smiles at me
—and it feels like a slap across the face. The nickname has zero effect on him. It doesn’t put a dent in that ego-filled suit he seems to don with an impressive amount of confidence.

“Yes,
Dr. Limp Dick
. I think that name suits you well.
Extremely well
. Don’t you agree?”

“The fact that you even took the time to come up with that tells me one thing…” He pauses, obviously waiting for my stubborn pride to chime in.

“What exactly does it tell you?” I spat out, my irritation rising to new heights.

“That you’ve been thinking about me.
A lot
. Don’t worry, baby. I’ve been thinking about you too.” He leans in close, too close, and it feels like all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the room.

Anger courses through my bloodstream, my heart pounds loudly in my chest.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
My pulse sounds magnified inside of my ears. How can one man find a way to make me so infuriated? I hear a loud smack echo in the hallway and realize that my fury has now pushed me over the edge. I just smacked James clear across the face; a faint red handprint remains on his cheek. He lifts his hand and lightly rubs his jaw before grinning back at me.

“Beautiful
and
feisty. Now I’m
really
never going to give up,” he adds, completely unaffected.

“You’re such an asshole!” I shriek back at him before turning on my heels, stomping towards my bedroom, and slamming my door shut. I lean up against the wall and sigh loudly in frustration, my fists clenched tightly to my sides.
What a prick!
I mean, who in the hell does he think he is?! My breath is fast and hard, and my chest heaves up and down violently. I see my reflection in the mirror across from my door and can’t ignore the prominent outline of my nipples visible through my shirt.

God dammit!

My nipples are acting like shameful sluts. Shameful, pathetic sluts that seem to have an inclination towards an egotistical physician named James. That stupid, smug-grin-wearing, annoyingly sexy, pompous asshole. If I knew witchcraft, you can bet your ass I’d put a hex on him. It would be Hocus Pocus 2.0 all up in this apartment and I’d have a spell on his cock faster than you could say, “Hand me my broomstick!” Of course, I would be the witch played by Sarah Jessica Parker in this scenario. I’d wear a tight, red corset and some kick-ass black boots, and I’d reveal enough cleavage to make a high school boy cream his jeans. Unfortunately, I’m not a witch nor am I well versed in witchcraft,
but
I am a c-u-n-t and the cunt in me says…

Fuck that jerk AND his limp dick.

Chapter Three

“Ass and titties and big boner britches” -Amy

Another day, another dollar, which means another long night in the ER. Nothing brings people into the emergency room like a lack of insurance and a refusal to find a primary care physician. I can see where most people would see me as a cold-hearted nurse, but you try working in the ER for as long as I have and then see if you don’t have a different view of the world. I’m very aware that my job is starting to make me extremely jaded towards humans.

“Amy, do you mind going into bed three and helping Tony get an IV in that patient?” my manager, Shirley, requests. My head cocks to the side in surprise. Shirley isn’t one to ask. She prides herself on her demands.

“Yeah, sure, no problem. It’s not like I have three other patients to take care of or anything,” I grumble out as I log out of my computer and head for bed three.

“We could really use a little less sarcastic-ness from you around here.” Shirley raises her unibrow in annoyance. Did I mention that she’s an exceptionally attractive woman? Yeah, she’s not. Style and simple grooming are not her strong points.

“You hired me, Shirley. You knew what you were getting into.” It’s a shame I don’t feel any sort of need to be a perfect employee whenever management is around.

“I have no qualms with putting you on corrective action, Amy,” Shirley threatens with a stern voice, a voice that could be described as manly and filled with testosterone. Honestly, I’m still not convinced that she doesn’t have a dick and balls tucked inside her pleated pants.

“Remember that last time you threatened to put me on corrective action and then
you didn’t
? Something about me being one of your best ER nurses on staff…” How about them apples? Or should I say balls? Balls probably work better for her.

Shirley huffs out a breath in exasperation. “Remind me why I hired you again? Were you this much of a pain in the ass when I did that interview years ago?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Just do me a favor and go help Tony out. That’s all I’m asking. Can you at least do that one thing for me?” She places her too-big-for-a-woman hands on her hips and glares at me.

“Sure thing,
boss
.” I give her the two-finger salute and head for bed three.

I’m faced with a frail, elderly lady with a face full of soft wrinkles. The hospital gown sags off of her tiny body and reveals her protruding collarbone. I take a glance at her chart and notice the diagnosis of Alzheimer’s as well as severe dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. This small woman’s big gray eyes are clouded with memory loss and confusion. She watches me carefully as I make my way to the side of her bed. Alzheimer’s is an extremely difficult disease to face. The family members of those who are diagnosed with this terrible illness seem to suffer the most. I couldn’t imagine having one of my parents end up in a state where they didn’t even remember me.

“Hi, Ms. Lloyd. My name is Amy and I’m a nurse here in the emergency room. I’m just going to get an IV in you so that I can give you some medicine to make you feel better.” I glance over at the family member sitting by her bedside. He’s very young—I’d guess around twenty or twenty-one.

“Is this your grandmother?” I ask him inquisitively as I get supplies from the cabinet next to his chair.

“Yeah, this is my grandma. The nursing home called my mom today and said she was confused. Well, more confused than usual. My mom was at work so I volunteered to bring her in.” He smiles softly at me as he grabs his grandmother’s hand and gently squeezes it.

“That’s really sweet of you.”

“Have you met my grandson, Brady?” Ms. Lloyd croaks out, her voice raspy and filled with exhaustion.

“I just did. Such a nice grandson you’ve got here. You’re a lucky lady.” I pull out a tourniquet along with everything else I will need to start her IV.

“My little Brady is the best. He’s the quarterback of his football team and has a little girlfriend. She’s a hot piece of ass, isn’t she, Brady?”

Brady laughs uncomfortably and gives his grandmother a tight smile. “Grandma, you’re thinking about when I was in high school. I’m in college now.” He pats his grandmother’s hand affectionately. “Sorry, her filter is nonexistent these days and she seems to have forgotten everything that’s happened in the past five years,” Brady whispers low enough so only I can hear.

I chuckle slightly and give him a reassuring expression. “Don’t worry about it. This is all very common, and honestly, she’s a breath of fresh air.”

I set up my supplies on the bedside table and proceed to place the tourniquet on her bony arm. The fact that she is probably slightly malnourished and now severely dehydrated is not making placing an IV in her any easier. This is why Shirley had me come in here. IVs and drawing blood are one of my favorite things to do, and any time a patient who looks like a challenge comes in, I’m always willing to step up to the plate.

“Ms. Lloyd, just bear with me for a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” she squeaks out as I peruse for a decent vein.

A few moments into my search for the perfect place to insert the needle, Ms. Lloyd starts to hum a tune I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I swear I know that song from somewhere.

“Please, Grandma,
please, please
do not start singing.” Brady sounds a little frustrated and even slightly nervous. I’m not sure why. Then, a few minutes later, I know exactly why.

“Say ah, not a thermometer, bitch. It’s the nine inches…”

Holy shit.
I know that song! Everyone knows that Three 6 Mafia
song.

Ms. Lloyd continues her impressive rapping skills and heads right into the very famous chorus of this very dirty rap song. “
Ass and titties, ass and titties. Ass and titties and big booty bitches…”

“Oh my god.” Brady places his head in his hands. “Please stop singing, Grandma.” He looks up at me with a look of embarrassment on his face.

I flash a sympathetic smile his way and do what any good nurse would do in this situation. I sing along with her. “
Ass and titties, ass and titties. Ass and titties and big booty bitches…”
Ms. Lloyd peeks over at me and grins wide as we both continue to belt out the explicit chorus. Brady lifts his head from his hands and watches us with awkward amusement.

We nearly finish the entire song by the time I get her IV started. I start her fluid infusion and tape the tubing to her arm securely to ensure that nothing will cause the catheter to slide out of place. She continues to tap her feet and hum as I clean up my supplies.

“You’re all set, Ms. Lloyd. Someone from transport should be down shortly to get you to your room upstairs.” I grab her chart and head for the door.

“Thank you so much”—Brady steps in front of me, glancing down at my nametag—“Amy. Thank you so much, Amy.” He grins wide. I’d say it’s obvious he appreciates my badass IV and rap skills.

“Any time. Your grandma is the coolest.”

He chuckles and nods his head. “Yeah, she’s pretty awesome.” Brady looks back at his grandmother with affection etched all over his face.

“I love ass and titties! Let’s sing it again, Brady!” Ms. Lloyd squeaks eagerly from her bed.

He runs his hand through his hair and shakes his head. “All right, Grandma.” He sits down next to her bedside. “Go ahead and get us started.”

I leave Ms. Lloyd’s bedside in a much better mood than I started with. There is nothing like hearing an elderly woman rap a Three 6 Mafia
song that can brighten up your day. That little old lady was the coolest, and I have a strong suspicion that her grandson doesn’t make a point to filter his music selections when he drives her around. Honestly, I would have paid good money to hear her sing those explicit lyrics, and if it weren’t completely illegal and against all hospital policies, I would have been more than tempted to get video proof.