Dr. Mitchell: Chapter 8

I hadn’t seen Dr. Mitchell since the afternoon of Dad’s surgery, but I sincerely wanted to thank this man. The one night of passion I’d shared with him felt entirely in the past now. I was fortunate to have screwed the sexy doctor, but after seeing his non-doctor side, I could probably bet I wasn’t the only chick he’d ever fucked without a relationship before. Hell, this entire hospital seemed to be staffed with gorgeous interns and nurses—men and women—and I wouldn’t be surprised at all if that’s the one thing the girls who worked here and I had in common—screwing Dr. D!

I sipped on my coffee, thinking about the whirlwind of a week this had been. Thank God for Carmen because we learned most patients would be in the hospital up to four days before surgery to prepare for everything. All of the x-rays, heart screening technology—all of it was able to be done with Dad comfortably being transported to the hospital and then sent home. I was still in shock when Dr. Mitchell allowed dad the comfort of home instead of just slapping his stubborn butt in the hospital.

All-in-all, it was done, and now dad had his handy-dandy VAD implant, and Nurse Carmen was paving the way to make it all-too-easy for him to go home after the doctor cleared him in three weeks instead of going to a rehab center. Her sass had better be up for this because dad would fight her, and I would be calling in to have him forced into the rehab center if he tried to slack off after rejecting the idea of a donor’s heart.

It was the fifth day after Dad’s surgery, and he had finally passed the test to be pulled off the ventilator. They pulled him off after Dr. Mitchell had come to do his rounds last night and saw Dad’s lungs progressing well. I never seemed to be able to connect with the doctor since the surgery, though. If I weren’t grabbing something from the cafeteria, I’d dozed off in the comfortable chair at Dad’s bedside every time he came in.

I had already gone home today, showered and changed, and was back around six-thirty in the morning with the coffee I’d gotten for Carmen and me.

One of the noises coming from the nurses’ station alerted me to more people on the floor, and Carmen left to go join in on whatever in the hell was happening outside of Dad’s room. It was Friday morning, and this was the only loud noise of any party I was going to get.

“Ash,” Dad’s hoarse voice called my name.

I looked over at the man who’d been in and out of sleep since they’d pulled him off the breathing machine. “Well, good morning, handsome,” I said. “You okay?”

“Throat’s killing me, but you look like death.” He lazily smiled.

“Thanks for the compliment.” I laughed, my hair pulled into a tight bun and still wet from letting it air dry.

“Well, I guess I survived?”

“You’re not talking to a ghost.” I laughed, knowing Dad was talking to me heavily under the influence of his pain medication. “Dad, rest,” I said, waiting for the nurses to come in and fill me in on whatever the doctor was planning with dad.

“Well,” Dad said, ignoring me as the curtain opened, “I guess I got the implant.”

“You got it, all right.”

I went to look away, but then my dad laughed softly, and I looked at him, wondering if the meds were having some weird effect on him that I should be concerned about.

“Imagine that, Ash,” he said as the room filled with hospital staff. “I got implant surgery before you!”

My eyes widened. “Dad!” I said with a laugh. “Good lord, go back to sleep—you’re stoned.”

“That was a good one, Ash,” Carmen said.

I turned and smiled at her. “He’s out of his mind, and I don’t need you co-signing on his stoned, crazy commentary about implants.”

That’s when the other three in the room laughed. Two of them went straight to Dad’s monitors and IVs, and the third was Dr. Mitchell. I smirked at his humored expression and ignored the handsome man standing in his suit with the white smock that pulled the whole sexy doctor ensemble together.

“Well, I see you’re back with us and enjoying the good stuff,” Dr. Mitchell teased, looking at Dad’s monitors and then glancing back down at him.

“I feel incredible,” Dad responded.

“That’s fantastic. I see that all is working well, but the road to recovery will make you and Carmen best friends by the time this is over.”

“She’s a beauty, Doc,” Dad said.

Dr. Mitchell grinned. “That she is.”

“All right, he’s loaded,” I finally cut in. “Are there any new updates we should be aware of before Dad and you get going down a road that will most likely end up talking about implants and my lack of them?”

Dr. Mitchell’s gaze was unreadable, but it seemed like my entire body picked up on what it meant—and in a good way. Jesus Christ. He can’t stare at me like that—that’s the Mitch, all night in the room, look.

“Very well.” His face recovered from that devilish grin I saw more than once that night. “Your father will be transported down to our heart recovery floor this afternoon. His biventricular assist is performing well, and his body is accepting it just as I’d like. Have the nurses informed you on what to expect over the next three to four weeks of him being on our heart recovery floor?”

“Yes,” I answered as professionally as he was now speaking, “and you will still be checking on him.”

“Yes. He’s under my care until we turn him over to my middle man,” he winked at Carmen, “and my snitch of a nurse.” He arched an eyebrow at Dad’s embarrassing whistle at the mention of Carmen’s name. “She will continue to work with him while he recovers and rehabilitates at home. Any other questions?”

“I’m sure Carmen will help us out with anything I’m forgetting,” I said, mortified by Dad’s behavior.

“He won’t remember any of this,” Dr. Mitchell said, my head turning to peer up at him. “Try not to give him too hard of a time when the heavy medication wears off.”

“Thank you again for everything, Dr. Mitchell,” I said in all sincerity.

“Thank you for trusting my staff and me with your father,” he said, and then our eyes locked in a way that sent a shiver down my spine.

It had to have been his looks that were playing these games with my mind and body because it couldn’t have been him flirting with me. My wet-hair bun, hoodie, and leggings made me look like a bum who’d taken up residence at St. John’s.

“Girl,” Clay said as he rubbed my back in Dad’s luxurious suite of a heart recovery room, “you need to get out of here and get some vitamin D.”

I looked over at my best guy and smiled as he messed with one of his long braids. The dude was stacked with muscle, mocha skin that made me drool, and a smile that beamed brighter than the sun. He was sharply dressed in his suit from showing some multi-million-dollar home today, and—dare I say it—he probably made the gorgeous doctor envious of him.

“You know I’m not leaving him.” I looked over at Dad, who was in a giddy conversation with Carmen as they returned from his short walk out of the room.

“What I know is that you look like hell,” he said, then he leaned in. “Although it doesn’t seem to bother Dr. Sexy whenever he comes in.”

“Please stop bringing that night up.” I looked over at Dad from where Clay and I sat on the couch. “My dad cannot find out about it.”

Clay rolled his eyes. “I’m going to tell him if you don’t take a day off and get out of here.”

“Fine.” I lied to shut him up, knowing he most likely wouldn’t be back with three open houses going on tomorrow. “I’ll get out of here tomorrow.” I covered a yawn.

“It sounds like I’m missing out on a party in here.” Dr. Mitchell’s smooth and doctor-ish voice alerted his entrance.

After two weeks in here, the doctor and I were on a communicate about dad’s condition only basis—nothing more and nothing less. The worst part was that he was one of the best doctors in the world. Gorgeous or not, it was apparent he cared a lot about his patients, and it was also evident why I was in his hotel room that night.

The man’s personal life couldn’t exist with the way he seemed to be in a deeper relationship with this hospital, his job, and his patients. Getting laid was an easy thing for him to do—with anyone he picked—and that’s probably how he got by. He was his own man, though, and I was just glad he was so attentive to my dad, ensuring he was healthy with his new implant. I couldn’t ask for anything more from the man, and in truth, I knew the guy had nothing more to give in a relationship. That was simple to see after the past three weeks.

Their voices drifted off as they always did, Dad and the doctor bantering back and forth while I looked up the dates that I’d missed to enroll in the fall semester at the closest junior college. I still didn’t understand how my new job was so understanding of this situation. I could’ve been made to come back to work, but they told me to take all the time I needed, and thank God. I just couldn’t leave my dad. Not right now.

“I’m heading out.” I looked over at dad and Carmen, who were watching TV after the doctor left.

“Why don’t you rest at home tonight, sweetheart?” he asked.

“I’m not leaving you,” I firmly stated.

“Dr. Mitchell said I’m doing fine, but he did mention my poor daughter might be admitted to the hospital soon enough if she didn’t get the rest she needed.”

“I’m sure he did.” I smiled and pulled my purse on my shoulder. “You both tend to find good conversation with me being the butt of both your jokes.”

“Go rest at home tonight, Ash,” Carmen said with a sympathetic smile. “Take my advice as a nurse and a sixty-year-old woman with firm skin.” She winked. “If your dad so much as misses a breath, I’ll call you.”

“I can’t be an hour away, Carmen.”

Carmen stood and walked over to me. “If Dr. Mitchell were the slightest bit concerned about Mark, he’d have him in critical care. Instead, he’s recovering in a comfortable hospital bed and room. Are you concerned his heart will fail even after Dr. Mitchell just checked his echoes and new x-rays showing him how well the blood flow is?”

I sighed and looked over at Dad. “You will tell me if anything, I mean anything, happens.”

“Yes, mija,” she said.

“Come on, Ash,” Clay insisted. “Let me walk you down.”

After seeing how healthy Dad honestly looked, I decided to go home and pretty much die on the sofa after this insane month. They all laughed when I said to call me in the morning because I knew I wouldn’t be waking up if my mind let me rest. I felt myself hitting a wall, and it was happening faster than I could get to my car.

I was so fucking tired, and I should have just stayed and slept on that hospital sofa—that was nicer than ours at home, by the way. I blinked my eyes a few times before my car came into view. Once inside, I closed my eyes, praying for a second wind to help me get home. If not, I was sleeping in the car.

A couple of taps on my window, me wiping the drool from the corner of my mouth, and I jumped when I saw Dr. Mitchell leaning over and peering in at me.

I opened the door, instinctively thinking something was up with Dad. I jumped out of the car—pretty much half awake and paranoid—and ran directly into the man’s hard chest.

The leather strap of his briefcase fell off his shoulder, and the case crashed to the ground as he worked to steady my impulsive reaction. I clung to him, feeling like I was a drunken fool.

“Damn,” he said, oddly holding me against his chest. “Were you so determined to stay close that you chose to sleep in your car?” he asked as I got my bearings and stepped back from him.

I sighed. “I tried to take everyone’s advice and sleep at home tonight.” I waved at my yellow Accord. “It looks like I was more tired than I thought.”

“I’ll say.” He smirked. “I heard you mention that you were an hour away; which direction? I can give you a ride. I’m sure you’ll want to be back around the time I need to be here in the morning anyway. Six o’clock.”

“Yeah, I’m not going that far. I took a nap in the car. I’ll head back up to Dad. Thanks though; you’ve already been helpful enough.”

He steadied my shoulders to face him. “Ashley,” he said my name like the angel I believed him to be, “you’re not driving home, and you’re not going back into that hospital until you receive the proper amount of rest.”

“You’re not my doctor,” I countered, tired as fuck.

“No, but I am a doctor, and I can tell you that if you don’t allow me to help you, you can’t help your dad either. Not in this condition,” he said.

“I’m not going to my house. It’s too far away.” I started crying, and that’s when I collapsed into the man’s arms—sobbing all over his expensive suit. I was defeated, tired, and it had to have been the last few months of stressful events that led me to this embarrassing display.

I felt his hand massage along my back, and it was more soothing than the sleep I desperately needed. “You’re coming with me,” he said sternly. “I have a place that’s twenty minutes from the hospital.”

“You don’t even know me,” I cracked in response. “Why would you offer something like that to a stranger?”

“Fine, then. Where are the keys to your car?” he asked.

“Inside it.”

He reached in the car, grabbed my purse and keys, locked it up, and pulled his bag back on his shoulder. He looked at me with some calculating look, and then I was in his arms.

“What the hell are you doing?” I nearly screeched.

“Handling this matter the easy way,” he answered. “If you’re not comfortable with staying at my place, then I will take you to a hotel just as nice.”

“Goddammit,” I said in frustration.

“Relax,” he said. “Compliments of the medical group.”

We were in a sleek, black sports car, the leather smelling just as luxurious as his cologne. I couldn’t believe I was in the man’s car, being shuttled to a hotel, and leaving my dad behind.

“Your dad is doing exceptionally well,” he said, revving the engine, shifting gears, and switching lanes. “You, on the other hand, will join him if you don’t allow your body better rest.”

“Somehow, I feel like I’m keeping the same hours as you.”

He looked over at me and smirked. “I’m a bit more conditioned for the job. I do, however, eat well, and sleep in my own bed—or at least a bed—and not a sofa.”

“How do I get back in the morning? Does the hotel have a shuttle?”

“I’ll pick you up,” he stated.

“What if something happens to my dad while I’m gone? My car is at the hospital.”

“Which is why you might want to take me up on my original offer to stay at my place. The house is large enough, and you wouldn’t even know I was there.”

“Again, why would you offer that to a stranger? Your patient’s daughter?”

He pulled the car into a large parking area that led to a massive hotel. A valet came to his door, and one to open mine. The next thing I knew, I was sitting in a luxurious hotel lounge area, and he was at the alcove where the hotel attendant was helping him.

He turned back to me and motioned for me to stand. I did, but not without noticing that look again in his eye. He may have held a somber, pissed-off expression of determination, but he also had the sexy glint in his ocean-blue eyes.

We remained silent until a butler or some dressed-to-impress hotel personnel nodded as he opened the door to the room. I walked into another suite—one that was almost as impressive as the one in San Francisco—while he stayed back with the attendant.

“A hot meal is on its way up, and you will eat it,” he ordered in a humorous tone. “I hope you approve of this room. I know it’s not the splendor of the hospital room that you can’t seem to shake, but it should work for the night.”

“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” I said, blown away by the gesture.

“You keep saying you’re a stranger,” he said, setting his keys, phone, and briefcase on the counter. “You might feel that way about me, but I certainly don’t feel that way about you, Ash,” he said, his eyes dark.

“Because I live at your hospital?”

He smiled. “Perhaps it’s because a year ago, I met this woman I haven’t been able to remove from my thoughts.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I may be a stranger to you, only because I introduced myself to you that night as Mitch.”

Everything woke up in me right then and there. “And do you remember all of that?” I cringed.

He laughed. “I can’t imagine how you feel, knowing who I am after that night.”

“Honestly?”

He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Honestly,” he finally said.

“I think you were amazing that night, and this,” I waved my hand over at where he stood, hand planted on the bar area, “this person who saved my dad’s life and blows my mind as a doctor?” I laughed. “You are quite the catch.”

He arched his eyebrow at me. “Why did we not have the start of this conversation weeks ago?”

“My dad was dying?” I shrugged my shoulders, more relaxed now, knowing that if something serious did happen to Dad, I was with his guard dog.

“You should have come to my house,” he stated.

“I have something crazy to ask you,” I said, knowing I was off-topic again, thinking about dad.

“Crazy?”

“Not like that,” I reassured him. “I know you spent the money to reserve this oversized room, I would probably go back to your place, but we’re already here…”

What the hell, how did I ask him this?

“I would love to stay with you if it makes you more comfortable, and then you can eat and rest.”

I decided to play with his gorgeous expression. “What if I wanted you to hold me in your arms all night?”

He grinned and stood up. “That would cost you,” he said with a laugh, walking over to the phone, “and you don’t have the energy for that.” He winked as he picked up the phone and spoke into the receiver. “Yes, it’s Jacob Mitchell in the presidential.” He nodded, “Right, I’m going to need a driver to run by my office and pick up my wardrobe bag. I’ll call security to help escort them in.” He licked his lips, me watching everything as if I did fall asleep in the car and dreamt this all into reality. “Right, thanks.” He turned to me. “Good to go. Now, do you need me to help you with the shower? Perhaps we relive our night in San Francisco?”

I smiled at him. “I will kick your ass if you make me do something as stupid as falling for my dad’s doctor—or any doctor for that matter.” I turned to get in the shower.

“You might want this robe,” he offered as I headed down the hallway to the left. “I have clothes coming up from the boutique downstairs as well.”

“I might want to eat chocolate-covered strawberries naked too.”

“That’s the sleep deprivation talking,” he said with a laugh.

I stepped into the bathroom and let the state-of-the-art shower soothe me to my core.