Dear Bridget, I Want You(24)

“No, thank you.” She cut right to the chase. “So, you told Bridget that we used to date…”

I suddenly stopped mixing the smoothie. “She mentioned it to you?”

“Yes. She called me the other night, wanted to know why I’d never relayed that information.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I just reiterated how long ago it was, but I think she might have been a little…jealous. I could sense it.”

“What else did she say?”

“Nothing, really.”

“Come on. Don’t hold back on me, Calliope. Don’t forget I can tell when you’re lying.”

“I’m going to go to hell for this, but she said she’s very attracted to you.”

Fuck. Me.

It wasn’t like I couldn’t sense that already, but getting that confirmation was something entirely different.

I swallowed. “She did?”

“Yes.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“Not really. I think she’s confused about you. And to be honest, aside from assuring her that you’re a good person, I didn’t really know what to say because I don’t know what you’re doing, Simon. I will say this: that woman is not someone you have a quick fling with. I don’t think she’s capable of that.”

“You’ve said that before, and you’re not telling me something I don’t already know.”

“Do you have feelings for her?”

“This was just supposed to be a simple living arrangement. I wasn’t supposed to have feelings.”

She crossed her arms. “That’s not really an answer, but now I’ve drawn my own conclusion, thanks.”





Sexual frustration can turn ugly at times.

Bridget and I hadn’t seen much of each other aside from the shifts we were on together, which were unavoidable.

During one of those days, we’d gotten into a fierce argument over my deciding to prescribe a particular type of antibiotic for a patient.

Bridget followed me out of the examination room. “You’re overprescribing. She’ll become resistant. It’s clear to me that she doesn’t need another round. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

I turned around fast, startling her. “Well, it works out that you’re not me, then, doesn’t it? Last I checked I’m the doctor in this situation.”

She looked around us to see if anyone was watching and whispered, “That doesn’t necessarily mean you know what you’re doing.”

I resumed walking as I looked down at my chart. “I think nearly eight years of medical school and residency does say I know what I’m doing. So, I don’t really need Nurse Know-It-All second-guessing my every move.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Then don’t be a pain in the arse.”

“A pain? I think there must be a pill somewhere you can prescribe for my attitude, seeing as though you’re drug happy, Dr. Hogue?”

“You are a pill, Nurse Valentine. And yes, I’m going to write you out something right now.”

Wearing the burgundy scrubs that hugged her ass just right, she placed her hands on her hips. “Oh, yeah?”

Gritting my teeth, I dug my pen into my pad and wrote in swift, angry strokes.



Take three hard poundings against wall twice daily. Repeat for seven days until stick from arse falls out.



I handed it to her, watching her read it as her face turned as red as her uniform.

Smirking, I then proceeded to walk away.





A few days later, Bridget was outside doing yard work, so I used the opportunity to pop into the kitchen without having to run into her.

Deciding to use the bathroom in the main house first, I stopped short at the sight of Brendan standing on a stool in front of the mirror. He had shaving cream all over his face. You could see nothing but his eyes. And he was just about to take a razor to his cheek.

I held out my hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa…what are you doing, buddy? You’ll cut yourself.”

“Shaving.”

I carefully took the razor from his grasp. “Does your mother know you’re playing with this?”

“No. She thinks I’m in my room reading while she’s working outside.”

“Why are you trying to shave? You don’t have any hair on your face.”

“Mark Connolly told me if I start shaving, I might grow hair. He said it happened to his grandmother. She started shaving her face and got a full beard.”

Stifling a laugh, I asked, “Why do you want a beard?”

“I want to be older.”

“You’re going on nine. There’s only so much you can do, but I assure you growing a beard wouldn’t make you any more mature.”