Dr Feelgood Read online

  I grab the bill before Leo can. “It’s on me, man.”

  “Thanks, Ridge. I appreciate that.” We put on our coats and walk back towards the hospital parking lot.

  “Could you give me a ride home? I hitched in with Cody today,” he says.

  Leo lives in a condo across town. The whole complex is filled with other surgeons from various hospitals in town. Cody is in cardiology and shares a wall with Leo. The guys are practically joined at the hip.

  “Sure. My car is this way.”

  We climb into my Mercedes, a gift I bought for myself when I paid off my education loans. Leo lives out of the way, but it’s fine. He’s a good guy who just had a long day, so I’m happy to give him a ride.

  The drive is quiet, with just a classic rock station playing on the radio. When I pull up to the condo, Leo jumps out.

  “Hey, man. I know it’s unethical and you have a girlfriend, but remember, time is starting to pass. Think about how hot it would be to bang one of the PT women in your office. I’m just saying.”

  And just like that, my best friend is back. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am. I snort again.

  “I’m not losing my job over a woman, and it doesn’t matter how hot she is.”

  Leo smirks, but he doesn’t say anything more on the subject.

  “I’ll meet you at the bar at seven thirty?”

  It’s already almost five now, but I nod anyway. My buddy’s on call all weekend. We have to go out early or he’ll probably get called to the hospital before he can even get in a game of pool.

  I have just enough time to get to my house, shower, and drive over to Highland. I phone Seth as a reminder before leaving, but am sent straight to voicemail. The ass never picks up these days, but it doesn’t matter. Leo and I will have other buddies to beat at pool tonight.

  Besides, maybe Leo’s right. Maybe it’s time to meet someone and settle down. I’d love to get my hands on a vibrant curvaceous brunette with a sassy smile and hips that swing. Someone to warm my bed, and make me laugh after a long day. It would certainly beat hanging out with Leo, but then again, Leo is my here and now whereas my dream woman hasn’t shown herself yet. Where is she? Hopefully, around the corner and dying to meet a doctor with magic in his hands.

  3

  Summer

  I lean forward on the counter, settling my chin on my hand. The clock on the wall across from me doesn’t seem to be moving. I swear I’ve been sitting here for an hour, not just five minutes.

  “Excuse me, Miss?” a young woman with long blonde hair appears in front of me.

  I jump up. I was watching the register while my coworker used the bathroom, but the store was empty. Not a single person checked out while I waited. Behind the inquisitive woman, my coworker, Abigail, is sauntering back towards the registers.

  “How can I help you?” I ask, pretending I’m not staring at the clock. The second hand twitches closer to twelve. Good. My shift ends in twenty-three minutes, and nothing will keep me from clocking out at exactly five.

  “I was wondering if you could help me,” she mumbles. “I’m looking for a specific type of jeans. I bought this kind here a couple weeks ago and I love them, so I want to grab a couple more. I remember there being other shades in the same style?”

  The petite woman lifts up her leg to show me the denim she’s wearing. I recognize the cut as a brand we just started carrying.

  My lips tug into a smile. I may be close to leaving, but I still love my job.

  “Sure no problem. I can show you where they are.”

  “Thanks,” she says.

  I head towards the back of the store where we keep all our jeans. “So you really like this cut? They look great on you.”

  She blushes. “Yeah, thanks. I swear my butt is too big for every pair of jeans but this specific style.”

  She does have a rather generously sized butt, especially for a skinny girl. It’s probably hard to find jeans with a small waist but plenty of room for the junk in her trunk.

  “Well you look great,” I say. “I’m Summer. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

  She grins.

  “I’m Clara. And your jeans look great, too. What style are they? I might need to give them a try.”

  My hands go to my hips. “These are Lalique brand in the Bossy cut. They’re crazy comfortable, and super soft. Here, touch.”

  I lift my leg so Clara can feel the soft denim on my thigh. Working at a department store and helping people find their clothes has given me zero inhibitions about letting women touch me and my body. I’m glad Clara doesn’t seem to think I’m super weird.

  “Oh my God, I love this. Can you show me where these are, too? I definitely want to try a pair on.”

  I grin.

  “Absolutely.” We arrive in the jean section and I take her to a shelf on the left. Clara picks up three new pairs in her size, one black, one white, and one a light washed denim color. Once she’s satisfied with her choices, I lead her over to the rack holding my jeans. “Here you go. These are the Bossies.”

  She studies the selection.

  “This is great, thanks. So which do you think I should try on? I really like the black you’re wearing because I could get away with them at work, and you can never have too many pairs of dark jeans. But the regular wash looks good, too.”

  I grab the black and the dark blue denim in her size, and toss in a lighter pair too. “Why don’t you try on all three? Save some time.”

  Clara smiles. “Will you come with me?”

  I glance at the clock again, careful not to let Clara notice. I still have fourteen minutes before my shift ends, so I don’t really want to. But Clara doesn’t seem like a dawdler, so maybe this won’t take long. Plastering a smile on my face, I gesture towards the back.

  “Of course, let’s go!”

  We make our way to the dressing rooms, which are near the register. The people who designed the store figured the dressing room is usually your last stop before you check out, so it makes no sense to have it in the back like most stores. Lalique loves to be different, and it really shows when it comes to successful sales.

  Clara disappears behind a heavy oak door with her three options. In less than a minute, she’s stepping out in the lightest pair.

  We stand beside each other in front of the mirror.

  “I don’t like this one,” she says. “My skin is too pale for such a light wash. I’m putting away the other sky blue pair I grabbed, too.”

  “I agree. I don’t think this shade is right for you. Why don’t you try on the next one?”

  The darker denim jeans fit her perfectly. The color compliments her palette, and the fabric hugs her butt exactly the way a good pair of jeans should.

  “These are a definite yes,” she says, checking out her backside in the mirror. “Like, a million times yes.”

  “I would be worried if you didn’t like them,” I joke. “I might think you were blind or something.”

  We both laugh companionably, and Clara goes back into her dressing room for the last pair. According to the clock nearby, I have eight minutes until it’s time for me to clock out. Plenty of time.

  Clara steps out in the last pair, and I’m in awe. The same black jeans that make me feel like a rockstar, make Clara look like she can kick some serious butt too.

  “Holy crap,” I say, grabbing her hand to spin her around. “You look incredible in these!”

  She blushes, her smile wide. “You really think so?”

  “Girl, look at yourself!” I turn her towards the mirror and watch as she takes in her image. Her waist looks thin, her hips full but sassy. These jeans were made for Clara.

  “You’re right, I look damn good.”

  I laugh. “Atta girl.”

  “Ugh, but now I have two favorite styles. I guess that’s for the best, though. Now I don’t have to wear the exact same type of jeans every single day.”

  “It’s nice to have a variety,” I agree. “Listen, my shift is a
lmost over, but if you make an appointment with me for another visit, I can show you tons more bottoms that you’ll love. And we can even delve into tops, dresses, skirts, etc. That is, if you’re interested.”

  Clara is already nodding before I get all the words out.

  “I completely trust your judgment, Summer. How do I set up an appointment?”

  “Let the cashier know when you’re checking out that you want to make a stylist appointment, and she’ll put you in the calendar.”

  “Excellent. I’ll definitely do that. Thank you so much! I’m so happy I’ve found not one, but two styles that work for me. You’re the best!”

  I grin, shaking her hand.

  “It’s my pleasure. Enjoy your purchases!”

  Helping Susan already had me riding high, but Clara’s easy attitude and watching her fall in love with those pants will keep me going all weekend. Days like today remind me just why this job is perfect for me.

  As Clara heads back to the dressing room, I rush to the registers. My co-worker Abigail is checking out a customer when I approach. I still have a few minutes before I can clock out, but I always like to check in with the remaining employees and let them know how the day went. I don’t know if they care, but it feels good to share with them. My job is rarely lonely, since I almost always have someone to help on the sales floor, but sometimes I don’t get a chance to talk with my fellow salespeople.

  “Have a great night!” Abigail chirps to a customer, handing over one of Lalique’s trademark bags. Her tone is friendly but her smile is forced. Once the customer is out of sight, Abigail settles into resting bitch face. “You heading out?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “It was a great day. I had six appointments plus that one consult I just did. I think my sales are well over a thousand today.”

  Abigail’s jaw drops.

  “How are you so good at this?”

  I shrug. “It just comes naturally.”

  My co-worker studies my face. “It must be because you smile so much. People like it. Were you named Summer for your sunny disposition?”

  I burst out laughing. The question isn’t mean, or at least I don’t think it is. Plus, I get the question a lot. I like to be happy, and to share that happiness with others. If that makes me a sunny person, then so be it. I’d rather be sunny than rainy. I lean forward.

  “Can I let you in on a secret?”

  “You’re not actually this happy all the time, it’s just an act like the rest of us?”

  Another laugh spills from my lips. “Nope, I’m really happy all the time.”

  Abigail crosses her arms, looking at me with mock suspicion.

  “Let me guess. You’re in witness protection, which is why you have to always be nice? So you don’t attract extra attention?”

  “Wouldn’t being nice all the time be the opposite? I feel like people are always paying attention to me because of my upbeat mood.”

  Abigail considers this. “I suppose you’re right. Please tell me the secret since my guesses are so terrible.”

  “Are you sure you want to know?”

  She leans forward. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

  The serious look on her face tells me she’s not lying. “Okay. My name isn’t Summer.”

  “I knew it! Witness protection!”

  “No, silly,” I giggle. “My birth name is Stephanie.”

  “Oh. If you were hiding, you wouldn’t have told me that.”

  I shake my head. “Probably not.”

  “So wait, your name is Stephanie but people call you Summer because you’re so nice and friendly?”

  “Not really. I have a younger brother and when he was a baby, he couldn’t pronounce ‘Stephanie.’ Somehow, it came out ‘Summer’ instead, and the nickname stuck. No one, not even my parents, calls me Stephanie now.”

  “Oh my god, that’s way cuter than my theories.”

  I grin.

  “I’m glad you think so. Of course, my baby brother is now six foot five and a three hundred pound football linebacker.”

  Abigail snorts and I check the time again. Oh good. My shift ended one minute ago.

  “Alright, later. I’ve got to roll.”

  Abigail shoots me a sly look.

  “Do you have a hot date or something?”

  “No,” I say with a laugh. “Well I guess kind of. It’s girls’ night. I’m going out with a few female friends to grab some drinks and gossip.”

  Abigail snorts.

  “So more fun than a date.”

  “Way more fun than a date.”

  She shoos me away. “Then get out of here, girl. Bottoms up!”

  I wave and head for the back room. Once I’m clocked out, I practically run to my car because I’ve been looking forward to girls’ night all week. Our schedules are so busy that my friends and I only really get together once a month, maybe twice if we’re lucky. It’s our night to catch up on each other’s lives, share news, and get a little tipsy. So basically, Abigail was right: it’s the best night of the month.

  Plus, who knows? Maybe there’ll be a hot guy at the bar. If so, then I need to look good. I’m meeting my friends in a couple hours, which means there’s just enough time to get home and get ready. I’m going to let my hair down and put on a sassy outfit so that when Mr. Perfect lays eyes on me at the bar, he won’t be able to resist my curvy body and come-hither attitude.

  I giggle. Come-hither attitude? More like this is a girls’ night where I hang out with my best buds. No worries. I get in my car and crank up the radio, rolling down the windows to enjoy the warm evening air, letting my cares fly off into the wind.

  4

  Summer

  My curling iron sits on my vanity, heating up. My hair is naturally curly, but it’s also naturally frizzy and the heat helps tame things.

  While the iron gets warm, I pull my hair out of my face with my favorite headband. It was a gift from my friend Dee, and it’s got a bunch of fashion drawings on it, like a sewing mannequin and dress sketches. I study my image in the mirror. Perfect. Clean and ready for cosmetics.

  My makeup doesn’t take much time. I’ve watched makeup tutorials on YouTube, but they’re usually over-the top and I always come out looking like a clown. I like the natural look, anyway. Just a little foundation, some eye shadow, eye liner, mascara, and a dab of lipstick, and I’m ready to do my hair.

  I slip the headband off and section my hair so that I can focus on the bottom. Once I’m done there, I set it back down to get the next layer ready. My hair is crazy thick, so it takes forever for me to make it nice. I normally just let it do whatever it feels like, but girls’ night is a special occasion and I want to look good.

  Just as I pick up my curling iron to start in on the next section, my phone rings. It’s probably Dee, Liz, or Annabel confirming our plans for the night, so I pick up without looking.

  “Hey, girl,” I say.

  “What the fuck, Summer?”

  Oh. That voice definitely does not belong to a girl. It belongs to my so-called boyfriend, Jonah, and he does not seem happy with me. I try to keep my voice chipper.

  “Sorry, Jonah. I thought you were one of the girls.”

  “Obviously.” He’s annoyed. It seems like he’s always annoyed with me these days, but it goes both ways. It’s not like he’s always an easy person to get along with either. “I’m bored,” he whines. “What are you doing tonight?”

  I set the curling iron down. I still have a half an hour to finish getting ready, but it’ll take at least twenty minutes for me to do my hair, and I’m not even dressed yet. I need to get Jonah off the phone quickly.

  “I’m going out with Dee, Liz, and Annabel. I’m actually in the middle of getting ready, so if maybe I could call you back later?”

  “What’s the point?”

  I ignore his petulant tone.

  “You know we only get a girls’ night every once in a while. We like to talk and catch up.”

  He sniffles a bit into
the phone.

  “Yeah, but what about your boyfriend? You know, me? What am I supposed to do tonight?”

  I sigh. “I see you way more often than I see my friends.”

  “Yeah, but I had plans for us tonight. I was going to cook dinner for you. I bought those fancy steaks you love, and I found a new mashed potatoes recipe, plus there’s even some cherry pie.”

  My annoyance with him recedes. It’s really sweet that he went through all that trouble for me and it’s definitely a romantic gesture. But I can’t cancel on the girls because they would never forgive me. One of our earliest promises to each other was that we would never ditch each other for a guy, no matter what.

  “Why don’t we get together tomorrow night?” I ask, trying to come up with a compromise. It fails.

  “That’s not the point, Summer. It was going to be a nice surprise, and you’re ruining it because you’re going to be off with your girlfriends. How do you think that makes me feel?”

  I take a deep breath. I know from experience that getting mad at Jonah never works.

  “I’m sorry you feel bad, but how was I supposed to know you had surprise plans for us tonight? It’s not like you told me that you wanted to do something tonight, and it’s not my fault that I already have plans.”

  There’s silence for a moment.

  “You could cancel.”

  “I’m not going to cancel on them, Jonah.”

  He starts to raise his voice. “You’re being ridiculous, Summer. I was trying to surprise you with a romantic dinner, and you’re not even grateful.”

  “I am grateful. And I’m saying we can still have a nice dinner tomorrow—”

  Jonah cuts me off. “Tomorrow doesn’t work for me. It has to be tonight. Why can’t you go out with your friends tomorrow?”

  “Because we planned it for today,” I say tiredly. But then rage washes over me. Forget being calm. Jonah is being a petulant jerk and I don’t have to just take it. “I’m sorry that you can’t accept that I already have plans. You know I want to hang out with you, but—”