Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“You can’t rush medicine,” the doctor tosses those words out like they mean something.
You can rush it and often have to.
I’m not thrust into life-and-death emergencies on a daily basis, but I do handle critical cases several times each month.
It’s neither here nor there that my patients are pets. Many, if not most of them, are considered treasured family members.
Delia wiggles all of the toes on the foot wrapped in the doctor’s hand. “It’s fine now. I’m good to go.”
His gaze trails up her legs to the hem of her dress.
When we arrived, he asked her to sit on the exam table. I saw the merit in that since he didn’t want to bend down to gaze at her foot, but he’s taking the concept of a thorough exam to a new level.
“I’ll keep an eye on it,” I offer.
“Me too,” Clever adds his voice to the mix. “I can stop by Delia’s cabin every few hours to check out her toe and anything else she needs checking.”
I toss him my best back-the-hell-off look, but he’s not paying attention to anything but Delia’s breasts.
She’s a petite brown-eyed blonde with a beautiful face and lush curves. It’s no wonder all three men in this crowded room can’t take their eyes off her. In the case of Dr. Feelingherfeet, he can’t take his hands off her either.
Feil. His name is Dr. Feil.
I’m thirty-six and a successful professional. I’m not a jealous fifteen-year-old kid.
I can’t even recall if jealousy was a part of my psyche as a teenager. I’ve never wanted for the attention of a woman, or back then, a girl. I’ve always sported a look that’s considered attractive.
Wavy brown hair, blue-green eyes, and a frame that’s tall and fit are the exterior package.
The added appeal, or so I’ve been told, is that I run a veterinary practice that consistently tops the list of best in the city. I consider my staff my friends, and I have a home that’s bought and paid for in a trendy neighborhood in what I think is the greatest city in the world.
“Can you put a bandage on my toe so I can go?” Delia asks. “I’d like to get back to my cabin, Dr. Feil.”
I’d like to follow her there because although our joint presence on this cruise ship could be considered random, I now have an idea of why the brochure boasting its many virtues was on a table in the break room of my clinic.
I was having a shitty day when I scooped the brochure up and glanced at the glossy images of the ship. I read a few bullet points about the size of the onboard pools, the casino, and the promise that it would be “the trip of a lifetime.”
At the time, I wasn’t necessarily looking for that, but I did need an escape since I had just lost two patients in the span of three hours, so I took the brochure to my office in the clinic. I went online and booked a five-day journey on the ocean. I upgraded from a standard cabin to a luxury stateroom because why the hell not?
I almost canceled twice, including last night before I boarded a direct flight from JFK airport to Miami.
Knowing Delia Hawthorne is on this cruise makes the time away from work worth my while since I’ve been admiring her from afar for months. Afar being from behind the screen of my phone as I scroll through her social media feeds daily.
Dr. Feil finally pushes back the rolling stool he’s been sitting on. He stands, adjusting the front of his white trousers in an attempt to conceal an obvious erection. He fails miserably because the fabric of his pants is paper-thin.
“Thank you,” she whispers in anticipation of him finally doing the job the cruise line hired him to do. “Can I still go in the pool?”
He nods. “In whatever color bikini you brought with you.”
There’s no smile on her face in response, just a slight shake of her head.
I shove both hands into the front pockets of my pants. I’ve already seen her in both a white and red bikini. That was in image form since she posted pictures on her socials of a trip to The Hamptons last summer.
My inquiring mind did indeed force my hand to scroll as far back as I could to look at all of the pictures Delia ever posted. It took hours and two bottles of beer, but it was a night I’ll never forget.
“I’ll walk you back to your cabin,” Clever offers from where he’s still standing.
“Aren’t you needed somewhere other than here?” I ask before Delia can respond.
“I don’t want you to get fired,” she adds. “You should go, Clever. Thanks for your help.”
Those words are enough to buoy the kid’s mood because he flashes her a smile that I suspect gets him a hell of a lot of attention.