Samson Page 4

  “Says the woman who hasn’t done a damn thing in two days.”

  I grin at her. It’s very rare to get two days off in a row while still in residency, and I spent mine doing exactly what I wanted. It just so happens that it looked a lot like what Charli is doing right now, but after two days of bumming around and not once leaving the apartment, I’m ready to get out of here and get to work.

  “Still planning to get the shopping done? We’re out of almost everything.”

  “I went shopping before I got home.” Charli points down at the pile of junk food on the coffee table.

  “The list on the fridge,” I remind her before grabbing my bag. We never know if we’re going to get something in our hair or if an emergency will keep us longer than we planned, so having shower essentials is a necessity.

  “What could we possibly need so bad that I have to get off the couch?” she whines before popping a handful of Skittles in her mouth.

  “Toilet paper,” I say before walking out. I laugh when she groans as I close our apartment door.

  My Jeep is blistering hot when I open the door. Having a vehicle in New York wasn’t even an issue since the subway was taken wherever I needed to go, but I’m several miles from the hospital here in Farmington, and there’s no way I’d walk that in this heat. I’d be dehydrated before I ever got there, and you can’t save women and their babies if you can’t hold a scalpel with a steady hand.

  After climbing inside and turning the air conditioning up to full blast, it still takes half of the trip to work before the vehicle cools enough to tolerate without the windows rolled down all the way. A black vehicle sure looked nice on the lot, but this is what I get for buying a car in the winter.

  I’m wondering about a trade-in for something white or a nice cream color when I enter the front of the hospital. I regret not using the side entrance when I hear a familiar voice.

  “Hey, stranger.” I try my best to keep a pleasant smile on my face when I turn toward Georgia Anderson and her boyfriend, Jameson.

  “Good morning,” I tell them and press the button for the elevator for a second time. “How is Amelia doing?”

  Gigi beams when she looks down at her daughter in the infant carrier. Jameson lifts it a little higher, so I can get a peek inside. The little girl is sleeping, and even I have to admit the way her bottom lip pokes out while in repose is stupidly adorable.

  “She’s fantastic,” Gigi answers. “We’re here for her two-month check-up.”

  Being informed that they’re heading to the pediatric doctors’ offices on the second floor reminds me that I need to call my parents. Guilt washes over me at the reminder that I spent two days lying on the couch and didn’t bother to even pick up the phone to call them. They’re both understanding of how busy I am with my residency, but honestly, I’m just a bad daughter. Sleep is important, but family is even more so. We sometimes go weeks without seeing each other, even though they both work in the same hospital as me. The guilt hits me hard in the gut.

  “When do you plan to have kids?”

  “What?”

  “Gigi,” Jameson says in a warning tone.

  I expect nothing less from Georgia Anderson. She never was one to consider the proper place and proper time. When she has something to say, it just flows out of her mouth.

  She doesn’t take Jameson’s warning, merely looks up at me with expectant eyes.

  “Not anytime soon,” I tell her when all I want to do is explain that it’s none of her business, and more importantly this is a conversation meant for people who are close, and she and I have never been close.

  Also, while I’m saying all these things in my head, I want to let her know that I don’t want kids, and if I did, I couldn’t see having them in the next fifteen years because I have long-term goals, and none of them include carrying around a crying baby with food stuck to my shirt. Not that Gigi has food stuck to her clothing. She’s absolutely glowing, and although she’s only two months post-partum she looks absolutely amazing, and I’m not just talking about her figure, her skin looks fresh, and there isn’t one shadow under her eyes. She’s not overburdened and overtaxed like most of the new parents who come to the obstetrics floor for their post-baby check-ups. I’m certain she owes a lot of that to the help Jameson provides, or maybe I’m just extremely catty in my own head, and Gigi is an amazing mother who is capable of looking like a million bucks even though she has a brand-new baby.

  “Have you seen Samson recently?”

  Now this question makes my hand falter as I reach up to once again press the elevator button. I almost want to pound on the damn thing and yell for whoever is holding it on a higher floor to release it immediately. I refrain, just barely.

  “Samson? No, I haven’t seen him.”

  “Gigi,” Jameson warns again.

  She doesn’t listen to him. Why would she? Gigi does what she wants when she wants. She always has, and I’m certain she always will.

  “He hasn’t called you?” Her eyes blink with curiosity, and it makes me wonder what he’s been telling everyone about me.

  All the kids who grew up on Cerberus land have always been thick as thieves. There are no secrets. Well, they keep secrets from the outside world but are questionably close to each other. My dad has always said that the people that live there are amazing, generous with their time and resources, and Farmington is lucky to have them. I trusted his intuition enough that I felt completely safe when I went there to babysit in my teens, but the expectant way Gigi is looking at me makes me wish I’d never stepped foot on the property. If only to avoid this very situation.

  “Called me?” I ask, sighing in relief when the elevator door opens. Frustratingly, it’s empty, so that means Gigi will continue her interrogation.

  “Yeah, like on the phone?” she prompts.

  “He doesn’t have my number,” I mumble as I press the button for my floor.

  Jameson’s hand is quick to reach out and press the number two for theirs.

  “I can give it to him.” Gigi grabs her phone from the pocket on the diaper bag Jameson has slung over his shoulder. Honestly, no man of his size should look so good with a diaper bag covered in pink and orange flowers, but somehow, he still looks amazing.

  I jerk my head back to the front of the elevator when he looks at me apologetically.

  “Samson has no need for my number,” I tell Gigi as the door opens up on their floor. Jameson begins to tug on her arm when she just stands there and looks at me like I’ve said something confusing.

  “How can he call you if he doesn’t have your number?” She’s frowning when the doors close with her on the other side.

  “Indeed,” I mutter in the empty car.

  When the door opens up on my floor, pandemonium hits me in the face. The first time this happened, I stood stock-still, not knowing what to do, but I’m ready for it this time.

  “Where do you need me?” I ask one of the nurses as she passes by with an armful of supplies.

  “Dr. Hunter is heading to surgery. He said for you to do rounds, and to pay close attention to Jerica Milton. He thinks her incision is showing early signs of infection.”

  “Got it,” I tell her as I head to the lounge to grab my jacket and store my overnight bag. I’d rather be in surgery, assisting Dr. Hunter, or even taking the lead under his supervision, but what I’m tasked with doing is just as important. My responsibilities don’t stop once I walk out of the surgical suite, and although I need to remind myself of that every once in a while, I know that even though I may spend my shift without seeing the inside of an operating room, what I’m doing is making a difference. That’s why it’s easy to walk down the hall and greet patients with a genuine smile on my face.

  My shift is so busy, that even though Samson was once again shoved in my face at the beginning of my day, I manage to keep him out of my head at least sixty percent of the time.

  Chapter 7

  Samson

  “Please tell me why we�
�re in teenage-girl heaven right now?”

  I roll my eyes at Cannon, but he has a point.

  “Seriously,” Griffin mutters but falls into line as we walk into the mall.

  “Both of you guys seemed stressed.” I look at Griffin. “You’re like a lost dog every time Ivy leaves the house, and Cannon hasn’t been the same since Melissa went back to Rhode Island.”

  “She didn’t have to sign up for that second summer term at the local college,” Griffin mutters. “She can’t seem to stay away from school. The girl is obsessed.”

  “Do you know how hard it is to find a chick that’s down for just about anything?” Cannon muses with a frown on his face. “Melissa was all about sneaking away to get freaky. I suggested a little bathroom romp with a chick at Jake’s the other night, and she threw a drink in my face.”

  “East coast girls,” Griffin and I say at the same time with wide grins on our faces.

  “Nothing like ‘em,” Cannon mutters, but he’s quickly distracted by a blonde who doesn’t bother to hide the fact that she’s checking us out as she walks by.

  True to form, Griffin doesn’t notice her, but both Cannon and I turn our heads to watch her walk away.

  Cannon peels away from our little group when she presses her fingers to her lips and blows a little kiss in our direction.

  “We’re leaving you behind,” Griffin calls after him as the woman slows so he can catch up to her. “That man is crazy.”

  “Seems that way,” I agree.

  “Tell me why we’re here again?”

  “You need to get out of the house more than just going to your appointments. And,” I sweep my hand in front of me as we enter the food court of the mall, “pretzels make everything better.”

  “Just means I have to run an extra five miles tomorrow,” he mutters.

  “Live a little.” I clap him on the back and join the small line forming at the pretzel counter. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Ivy will still want to jump your bones even if you gain a few pounds.”

  “I’m not talking to you about sex with Ivy,” he warns.

  I over-exaggerate a shudder before turning to look at him. “I’m not asking for details, but just know the walls between yours and Cannon’s room are thin, and he’s well aware of just how much is going on in that room.”

  “He should keep his mouth shut,” he barks, eyes looking around for his gossiping brother.

  “Maybe you should keep your activities to a minimum when others are in the house,” I offer before turning to the smiling teen at the counter.

  After ordering, we stand to the side and wait for her to grab our pretzels and sodas.

  “Never gonna happen,” he grumbles before offering the counter girl a tight smile when she hands over the warm treats.

  “What’s that?” I ask as I slide over and grab a handful of mustard packets.

  “The…” He rolls his arm in front of him like he doesn’t want to say things out loud. “The minimizing activities. Not going to happen.”

  “Can you stop bragging about all the sex you’re getting?” I smile at him, but I’m being serious. “Some of us aren’t getting laid. It’s not cool to rub it in my face.”

  “From feast to famine, huh? Bet you’re regretting leaving Denver now aren’t you.”

  My lack of female entertainment seems to boost his spirits some, and he digs into his pretzel.

  “I’m seriously considering going back,” I lie before taking too big of a bite.

  It’s exactly how the stunning redhead finds me when she walks up with a gorgeous smile on her face. She looks vaguely familiar, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she was one of the girls I’ve hit on recently at the bar.

  “Samson, right?” She points at me, but all I can do is nod in answer with half a damn pretzel shoved in my mouth.

  “I’m Charli.” She holds her hand out to me all the while scrunching her nose when I try and fail, to chew the dough without opening my mouth. I shake it with shame and embarrassment.

  “Griffin,” my saint of a friend offers as a distraction.

  The second he releases her hand; her attention is right back on me.

  “I’m Camryn’s friend from the hospital,” she says when I finally swallow.

  “Oh!” That’s where I’ve seen her before. She was standing at the end of the hallway when I ran into Camryn on the elevator at Griffin’s first appointment. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.” The way her eyes scrape down my body makes me feel a little objectified. It’s something that would normally make me smirk and put an offer on the table, but it’s concerning that Camryn’s friend is the one doing it.

  Did they talk about me? Did my obsession tell her friend I’m fair game?

  I scoot back a little on my stool, and Griffin chuckles at the loud scraping sound the legs make on the floor. It seems to appeal to Charli as well, who continues to look at me with a weird look on her face. It’s like she’s appraising me for sale or something. I can only hope this is some sort of test, and I pray inwardly that I don’t fail. I’ve been around enough women to know that approval from the best friend is paramount when a chick is trying to make a decision about a man.

  Although Charli is beyond gorgeous, it’s not difficult to keep from flirting with her. She’s my only link to Camryn, and Griffin’s words get creative from the other day are running through my head.

  “Is Cam—I mean Dr. Davison with you today?” I make a showing of looking around the food court for long golden-brown hair and pale skin.

  “Nope. She’s on shift today. Does she force you to call her Dr. Davison?”

  I nod while Griffin chuckles again. I bet he’s enjoying the shit out of this little conversation. I don’t know if I want to tease him more about Ivy or lay off of him completely so he doesn’t pull this shit again.

  “The last guy she did that to ended up dating her for six months.” Charli winks at me, but I’m torn with the information.

  The last thing I want to think about is Camryn being with another guy, but at the same time, it gives me hope that maybe I, too, have a chance with her.

  “Would you like her number?” Charli offers, and I can’t help but wonder if this is some sort of other test.

  Would saying yes make her mad and make me seem like I’m not willing to get it from her personally? Would rejecting it make me seem not eager enough? Women are strange, fickle creatures, and I have no way to determine which direction she wants me to go.

  “Umm.” Another chuckle from Griffin.

  “And who do we have here?” My eyes widen as relief washes over me when Cannon comes strolling up. He looks a little disheveled and even if he didn’t have lipstick on his neck, it’s abundantly clear what he got up to with that woman he went after less than thirty minutes ago.

  Charli gives him a cursory glance, and I can tell that it gets his hackles up when she turns her eyes back to me.

  “I’m Cannon.” She nods at him quickly but doesn’t take his proffered hand.

  Griffin laughs again, and I just know that he’s loving every second of this. When I look over, I see he’s darting his eyes between the three of us waiting for the next person to speak.

  “This is Charli,” I tell Cannon, even though I think it’s awesome that she isn’t the slightest bit impressed with his brilliant smile. “She works at the hospital with Dr. Davison.”

  Why do I keep calling her that? I’ve called her Cam longer than she’s been a doctor, so the sudden change is ridiculous.

  “Are you a doctor, too?”

  I almost stop him, because I’m well aware how filthy doctor lines work on women, since my run-in with Camryn, but it’s also like a slow train wreck, and I have no interest in interfering. I can only hope Charli doesn’t hold me accountable for Cannon’s stupidity.

  “Because you get my heart racing like an epinephrine drip.” Cannon smiles wide like he’s just hit the mega millions lotto, but Charli doesn’t seem impressed, and I know he’s just g
etting started. “Wanna study some anatomy?”

  “Cannon,” Griffin warns his brother, but the man is on a roll and shows no signs of stopping.

  Charli just slow blinks at him like he’s a circus act, but she doesn’t do anything to keep him from acting like an idiot either.

  “We can go back to my place and exchange genetic information.”

  Her lip twitches, and just when I think this educated woman is going to fall for this stupid shit, he opens his mouth once again.

  “Where’s my inhaler?” For show, he pats his pockets. “Because you took my breath away.”

  “Oh geez,” Griffin mutters.

  All hell breaks loose when he reaches up to push a lock of her red hair behind her ear. First, she stomps on his toe, but the real damage happens when he bends forward in pain and smacks his forehead on our table. Griffin is laughing so hard, tears are forming on his lashes when Cannon curses and falls to the floor.

  “ICU in my dreams,” Cannon mutters through his pain because if anything, he isn’t a quitter.

  Charli rolls her lips between her teeth before she turns back in my direction. Before I know it, she’s grabbing my phone off the table.

  “Access code?”

  “440620,” I answer without thinking, gawking at her as she types something on my phone. “It’s my football number and my birthday.”

  “I’m surrounded by idiots,” Griffin complains, but there’s humor in his voice.

  “Good to know,” Charli says as she hands over the phone.

  “Maybe you’d like to come to our place for the Fourth of July,” I offer.

  “Is that code for let’s get busy?”

  “Nope. I was thinking of it as an opportunity for you to bring Camryn, so I have a chance to talk to her outside of work.”

  She grins. “Will that idiot be there?”

  She points to Cannon, who is smart enough to have picked himself up off the floor and take a seat at a table a few feet away.