All Wound Up Page 12

  He laughed. “There’s a sound plan.”

  “Also, you big bully. Punching your brother like that.”

  “Hey. Do you have any idea how many times Barrett knocked me on my ass? He had it coming.”

  “If you say so. Your poor mother. She was probably breaking up fights between you all the time, wasn’t she?”

  “She did her share, and don’t do the poor mom thing. She managed us boys just fine.”

  “Then poor—what’s your sister’s name again? Mia?”

  “Yes. And don’t do the poor Mia thing, either. Being the youngest with four big brothers, she was a master manipulator. She had us all wrapped around her little finger.”

  Aubry laughed. “Okay, then. I feel better about your little sister.”

  They had coffee after dinner, but both of them passed on dessert.

  “When do you have days off?” he asked.

  “They vary. I work some weekends, and sometimes I have days off during the week.”

  “Me, too. Well, except for the fact that I never have weekends off. Not during the season, anyway.”

  “That must suck for you.”

  “I’m used to it. It’s just part of the job.” He finished his coffee, then put his cup to the side. “You should come to a game.”

  “I’ve seen plenty of games. I’m not really all that interested.”

  “But you haven’t seen me pitch. I’m good.”

  “You mean you’re good when someone isn’t kicking you in the balls, or stomping on your leg, or when you’re not falling over a pile of rocks?”

  “Hey. You haven’t exactly seen me at my best. On the mound, when I’m throwing the ball? That’s my best.”

  “Humble, aren’t you?”

  “Athletes have to think they’re the best at what they do. Otherwise, what’s the point in playing?”

  “I suppose.” She took a sip of coffee, wondering what it was about him that intrigued her so much she was actually entertaining the idea of attending a baseball game. Her parents had dragged her to so many baseball games that now she only did it with the greatest amount of reluctance, and only when her father insisted.

  “Don’t you think you’re a great doctor?”

  “I have good days and bad days, but I haven’t yet reached the God complex phase of my medical career yet.”

  He laughed. “I see. At what point does that occur?”

  “Hopefully never. There are already plenty of those types of doctors out there—mainly the surgeons. And since I’m not a surgeon, I don’t see me ever thinking of myself as godlike.”

  “Good to know. But just FYI? You’re a really good doctor, Aubry. And I speak from experience as one of your patients.”

  She looked down at her cup, then up at him, not sure how to react to his praise. It wasn’t something she heard often, since she mostly heard criticism, and since she saw her patients for a brief period of time, and typically only once. It wasn’t like most of them were repeat customers who offered feedback on services rendered. “Thank you. I’m glad you think so.”

  “I think your boss, or attending physician or whatever, should tell you that more often.”

  “It’s not his job to tell us where we’re doing well. It’s his job to tell us where we’re falling short. To make us better.”

  “I guess. I don’t know. Seems to me he should give you the good parts as well as the not so good.”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. The emergency room is a fast-paced environment, without a lot of time for ‘atta girl’s. If we’re screwing up somewhere, there’s only time to point that out, so we know what not to do in the future. If we’re doing something right, we won’t hear about it.”

  “In baseball, it’s different. If I’m working with my pitching coach and a pitch is working particularly well, he’ll tell me so I can work to replicate it. And of course, he’ll let me know if my mechanics are off so I can correct it. But I still get to hear the good as well as the bad.”

  “We’re in completely different fields, Tucker. You can’t compare the two. You’re constantly working on your craft, trying to perfect it, even the parts that are working well. Your evaluations will be completely different from mine.”

  He reached across the table and grasped her hand. “Aren’t you doing the same thing?”

  She looked down where his much larger hand covered hers. She’d never thought about all the things she’d done right during her time in medical school, through her internship and her years in residency. She’d concentrated her efforts trying to fix all the things she’d done wrong. It was a constant learning process.

  But Tucker was right—she’d done good things, and she’d learned so much. She often forgot to take the time to pat herself on the back about all those good things.

  “Thank you, Tucker.”

  “For what?”

  “For reminding me that I’m good at what I do.”

  He smiled. “You’re welcome. Try reminding yourself every day.”

  “I will.”

  He paid the bill, and they headed out toward his car. He drove her back to the hospital, stopping out front.

  “Where are you parked? I’ll drive you to your car.”

  “Here is fine. I’m parked in the physician’s lot and you need an access code to get in there.”

  He turned in his seat to face her. “Would you like to come to my place? I really liked spending time with you tonight, Aubry. I don’t want it to end yet.”

  Her stomach did a tumble. She’d started out the evening so angry with him for not calling her. But at dinner, they’d had such an in-depth conversation. She’d learned a lot about him. If nothing else, she wanted to continue to learn more, to talk more with him.

  “I’d like that. Wait here for me and I’ll meet you.”

  She got out of the car and hustled her way to the elevators.

  “Dr. Ross?”

  She stopped and turned as one of the attendings she occasionally worked with on the night shift called her name.

  “Yes, Dr. Landing.”

  “We’ve got a multiple-vehicle accident coming in. We could use all the hands we can get.”

  “I’m . . . off duty.”

  “Not now you aren’t. We’re shorthanded and need some help.”

  She sighed. As a resident, she had to do what she was told, and as a doctor, it was her duty to help the sick and injured. Thankfully she’d had that last glass of wine more than an hour ago and had enjoyed a couple of cups of coffee since then. “Of course. I’ll go change and be right there.”

  She headed down the hallway, grabbing her phone out of her pocket. She punched in Tucker’s number.

  He answered right away. “Did you get lost on your way to the car?”

  “Worse. There’s a multi-vehicle accident on its way in. One of my attendings just stopped me and asked me to help.”

  “Go do your job, Aubry. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  She appreciated that he understood. “Okay, thanks, Tucker.”

  She hung up, slipped her phone in her purse and hustled her way into the locker room to change into a pair of scrubs.

  TRUE TO HIS WORD THIS TIME, AND BECAUSE HE REALIZED he didn’t always follow through, Tucker contacted Aubry the next afternoon. He figured after putting in some extra time at the hospital, she might be exhausted and need some sleep, so he texted her and said to let him know when she was awake.

  She texted him just as he got to the ballpark for warm-ups.

  Got your text. Sorry. Late night that went longer than expected. What does your evening look like?

  He smiled and sent her a return text.

  Just got to the ballpark. Have a game tonight. I’m pitching. Wanna come?

  It took her a few minutes to reply with: Sure.

  He laughed, because he knew she obviously didn’t want to come. She was probably tired. But he’d take what he could get. So he texted back.

  Great. Assume you’ll sit in the o
wner’s box with your dad. See you after the game.

  Several minutes later, she replied.

  Good luck, Tucker.

  He grinned, then headed into the locker room. It was time to get into game mode and clear his mind of everything else. This was an important game. After yesterday’s loss on their home turf, they needed to win this one tonight.

  And it was up to him to pitch well.

  AUBRY ARRIVED AT THE BALLPARK RIGHT BEFORE THE game started. She had no idea what she was doing there. She’d ended up working until ten a.m. Dr. Chen finally gave her a break and told her to take the rest of the day off, since, other than dinner with Tucker last night, she’d basically been working nonstop.

  The multi-vehicle accident had been brutal. They’d lost one of the victims, unable to resuscitate him. He’d coded twice in the ambulance on the way, and the team had worked on him for forty minutes until the attending had finally, reluctantly, called it.

  It was always difficult to lose a patient, but his injuries had been too severe for them to save him. Then they’d concentrated on taking care of everyone else, including the man’s wife and two children who’d also been injured, though nothing life threatening. Thank goodness.

  They’d recover. But a woman had lost her husband, and those kids had lost their dad. The attending physician had been the one to tell the wife that her husband hadn’t made it. Some day that would be her job.

  She wasn’t looking forward to it. She was in the business of saving lives, not losing them.

  It had been a rough night, and she’d gone home, fallen into bed and immediately passed out until she woke about five p.m., dazed and groggy. Six hours was a lot of sleep for her. She’d headed straight for her coffeemaker, eaten a bowl of oatmeal and then taken a shower, both of which had helped a lot.

  Then she’d gone through her phone and seen Tucker’s text. And when he’d asked if she’d come to the game, the logical part of her brain had told her to say no.

  But she sensed the eagerness in his request, so here she was, in the owner’s box, smiling as she greeted her dad.

  He hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. “This is a surprise. You hardly ever come to the games anymore. You’re always working.”

  “I did a double shift last night, then took a nice nap. I thought I’d pop in.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.” He put his arm around her. “It’s a good series to watch.”

  He led her over to the bar, where she had the bartender fix her a Bloody Mary. She sat down at one of the front tables with her dad, a spot with a great view of the on-field action.

  “Tell me how work is going,” he said.

  “Busy. Intense. Brutal at times. Had a rough night last night.” She told him about her double shift.

  He smoothed his hand over her hair. “What you do isn’t for everyone. It takes someone with a lot of heart—and grit—to handle it. You’re tough, Aubry. A lot tougher than most people. It’s why at first I thought you could handle this business. But when you gravitated toward medicine, I knew you could do that as well.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Sometimes all she needed were her father’s pep talks. He was good at being frank with her. In college, when she’d been down about how hard the workload and pressure were, he’d reminded her she was smart, and that she could handle anything. He’d also told her the Rosses weren’t wusses, and she needed to rise to the challenge. He wasn’t one to coddle his only daughter. So while her mother had always given her a shoulder to lean on, her father had given her tough love.

  Sometimes she’d needed both.

  He sat and studied her. “You have dark circles under your eyes.”

  Then again, he wasn’t always complimentary when she needed it the most. “Like I said—double shift yesterday. Those are the worst.”

  “But you love it.”

  As if she needed convincing. She laughed. “Yes. I love it. It’s everything I imagined it would be.”

  He smiled and squeezed her hand. “You can handle it, Aubry. No matter what they throw at you, even when it’s awful, you’ll handle it.”

  She had always loved her father’s confidence in her. “Yes, Dad. I can handle it. Where’s Mom tonight?”

  “It’s her night with the ladies from the country club. They’re going to one of the casinos.”

  “Uh-oh. Spending more of my inheritance, huh?” she asked with a wink.

  “Yup. I guess you’re just gonna have to go make your own way in life, kiddo.”

  She laid the back of her hand against her forehead. “Oh, woe is me.”

  He smiled and put his arm around her. “Come on. Let’s grab a bite to eat before the game starts. You can tell me more horror stories about work.”

  The last thing she wanted to do was talk about work, so she engaged her father in discussions about the team, as well as Ross Enterprises. She’d been involved in the company since she was old enough to understand the rudimentary workings of what both her parents did for a living. And while she’d always found it fascinating—especially the sports angle—it had never dulled her love for medicine.

  She could still appreciate her father’s passion for the game, something he’d instilled in her at an early age. She’d mostly been teasing Tucker when she told him she preferred football, though that was a sport she enjoyed as well.

  “The team looks solid this year,” she said to her dad while they watched pregame warm-ups.

  “They do. They barely missed the playoffs last year. I have high hopes for them this season.”

  “You’ve filled the team with talent, Dad. Hot bats and stellar pitching.”

  Her father smiled. “And here I thought you were too busy with your career to pay attention to the team.”

  “Oh, I pay attention. You’ve made some fine additions the past couple of years. I know exactly who plays for the team. I might not have time to come to every game, but I catch up on the scores and updates.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Wait till you see Tucker Cassidy pitch tonight. He’s a real phenom with a wicked curveball.”

  At the mention of Tucker’s name, her stomach did a slight tumble. “Is that right?”

  “Yeah. Best acquisition we’ve made in years.”

  “I can’t wait to watch him.” She would not tell her father how well she knew Tucker. There were some things a daughter didn’t discuss with her dad.

  Plus, knowing how her father felt about her dating—anyone—she didn’t think he’d appreciate knowing she was seeing Tucker.

  She couldn’t even imagine that conversation. Not that she ever intended to have it with him. She’d always kept her father in the dark about her dating life. He preferred to think of her as studious and dedicated to her career.

  She’d keep it that way for now. Someday, maybe when she got engaged, she’d mention there was a man in her life. Or maybe after she got married. Or possibly when she put a grandchild in her father’s arms. Then there’d be no going back, and he might be distracted by a crying baby and wouldn’t notice the guy standing next to her.

  Her lips ticked up at the thought. Yeah, that was a long way down the road.

  She focused on Tucker as he warmed up his arm, threw some pitches, slow at first, then with more speed as his velocity increased. He looked mighty fine in uniform, too. Even from up in the owner’s box she could appreciate the tight fit of the pants across his thighs and butt, especially when he turned away from her.

  There was something so striking about Tucker in uniform, the way he took command of the mound as if he owned it. He threw the ball with authority. He had a definite presence.

  She was impressed.

  Her dad was right. He looked good, at least during warm-ups. The true test would be when he faced batters.

  When the game began, she leaned forward, glad she was here. Not only did she need to occupy her mind with something other than the anxiety and sadness from her job the night before; she was also interested in watching Tucker pitch.

 
; Or maybe just watching Tucker, period. She was used to seeing him in street clothes, as just a regular guy. There, on the mound, he commanded attention, all focus on him as he studied the first batter who’d come to the plate.

  Tucker held the ball, his hand behind his back as he got the signal from Sanchez, the catcher. He nodded, then turned to his side, winding up for the pitch.

  His form was nearly perfect as he threw the ball, which landed in the sweet spot over the plate.

  The umpire called a strike, and the crowd cheered.

  She looked over at her dad. “Nice curveball.”

  Her father nodded. “Indeed. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

  He threw another pitch, very similar to the first. It hit the strike zone and the batter didn’t even swing.

  “He’s got great hands,” her father said. “Great control of his balls.”

  Aubry blinked and felt her face grow warm.

  Of course her father was discussing Tucker’s pitches. But come on. Great hands? Control of his balls? That had her mind careening off in directions that had nothing to do with Tucker’s actions on the mound, and everything to do with what he could do with his hands and his balls in the bedroom.

  You are not a giggling twelve-year-old girl, Aubry. Get your shit together.

  Still, Tucker looked so freaking hot on that pitching mound, and she couldn’t help the hot flashes. It was just embarrassing to have them around her father.

  She liked Tucker’s stance, and he was just so sexy, the way he studied the batters, his gaze so intense through his black glasses. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him look so fine.

  Of course, it could also be that she’d seen him naked, so she knew the perfection underneath that uniform. Not that she was fantasizing about him in any way at all. Except in every way possible.

  Time to stop thinking of Tucker and sex and focus on baseball.

  When he struck out the batter, she stood and clapped along with everyone else in the owner’s box, effectively snapping her out of her fantasies and back into the game. Now she made herself zero in on his pitches.

  The next ball was a strike—again. So impressive. It was the way he threw the ball that mesmerized her, the mechanics of it all, the way the ball seemed to arc so high, then unexpectedly drop just as it reached the plate.