Chapter 2
Hmm, older male in his late fifties. Overweight, of course. Blood pressure a little high and an elevated temperature. Nick listened to the rattling cough coming from the room and winced at the liquid sound.
Not good. Nick closed the chart, then hesitated at a raucous burst of laughter. The patient must have brought a friend.
“Christ, your tits are bigger than my last girlfriend’s!”
Nice voice for an obviously straight guy, deep but not rough. Nick shivered, the syllables sliding down his spine like a lover’s hand. Damn. He always had a thing for a man who could caress his skin with nothing save a few carefully chosen words.
Too bad he didn’t get to enjoy the sensation. Another one of those wet-sounding coughs reverberated against the door, instant death to any kind of enjoyment.
“Like you ever had a girlfriend.”
“Hey, I was quite the ladies’ man in the first grade.”
Desperate to put off entering the room and face yet another chest infection (his third of the night), Nick concentrated on the second, perhaps not so straight according to the conversation, voice. Was the owner cute? Blond or brunet? Light eyes or dark?
Good thing Sheri was up front, she’d want to take bets and Nick still owed her from last week. Totally inappropriate behavior according to his ethics instructors, but these stolen moments kept the staff going through the long shifts.
“Yeah, right.”
“Honest. I used to kiss Missy Collins in the coat closet every day at lunch.”
“So, what happened?”
Shamed by the wheezing gasps punctuating the last sentence, Nick knew he should get this show on the road, but he held off, wanting to hear the answer.
“Like all women, she proved fickle and broke my heart.”
Nick smiled at the melodramatic sigh.
“I found her hiding in our little love nest with Billy MacDonal. He traded her a kiss for a peek at the wart on his finger.”
“Figures.” The rough chuckle faded into a series of racking coughs.
“We wouldn’t have lasted.” The owner of Nick’s new favorite voice shared the punch line to the story. “I have it on good authority, specifically Billy, she left him for Karen Meyers, an entire grade ahead.”
Now or never, Nick told himself. He rapped lightly on the door and stepped through. Two men waited for him. One sat hunched over on the exam table, the usual paper gown crumpled beneath the thick hand pressed to his chest. The other sprawled in the extra chair, long legs kicked casually out in front of him.
Based on their dusty jeans and concrete-covered work boots Nick guessed they worked construction. The friend, and Nick presumed main storyteller, still had his shirt on. Shirts, actually. Worn flannel draped over a faded T-shirt. A ball cap kept Nick from seeing his face, but since he wasn’t the patient, his appearance didn’t matter. Did it?
“Hi,” Nick said. He reached out to shake their work-callused hands. “I’m Doctor Davros.” 2
Nick grabbed a pen from his breast pocket. Then noted the pale and slightly sweaty face of his patient in the chart. A subtle scent caught his attention and against his best intentions Nick snuck another glance at the friend. Shaggy blond curls peeked out from under the hat. Proof the voice and the pleasant cologne wasn’t false advertising.
Down boy. Nick gave himself a mental cuff on the back of the head. It didn’t matter if the guy had good taste in cologne. He was involved.
Maybe. At least, he was dating. Kind of. Honestly? He and Michael hadn’t spent much actual time together or defined their fledgling relationship. But a lack of communication didn’t mean his hormones could declare open season on any attractive man to cross his path.
Yes, it does, said hormones insistently declared.
“What seems to be the problem?” Nick quashed his personal musing and checked the intake form again. “Mr. Gonzales?”
“Other than a boss who worries like he’s my abuelita?” The grumbled words dismissed his need to be at the clinic, but the rumbling sound from his chest proved otherwise. “A little cough.”
“Perhaps more than a little.” Nick set the chart down and scrubbed his hands in the tiny corner sink. He had washed them after finishing with little Chase, but he found the gesture put people at ease if he did it again before beginning the exam. “Let’s take a look.”
Nick palpated Mr. Gonzales’s neck before he grabbed the otoscope to peer into his ears, nose, and throat. Oh, God. Nick swallowed.
Any average twelve-year-old would find the thick, greenish goo covering Mr. Gonzales’s inflamed throat nothing but cool. Too bad he wasn’t your average twelve-year-old. Thankfully, Nick had mastered the art of squirming on the inside while appearing composed on the outside.