Dr. Knight: A Billionaire Holiday Romance

Chapter 1 ~ Doctor’s Orders

Ellis

“Happy Thanksgiving, Smithson.”

Dr. Amelia Carver’s voice jars me out of my step-by-step recollection of the tonsillectomy I scrubbed in on just a few hours ago.

I can’t help it. Since the first moment I stepped inside an OR, my mind has been stuck there, and until I’m actually spending most of my time there, it will be. It’s like when you’re watching a TV series one episode at a time. You keep thinking about the last one and wondering what will happen in the next. On the other hand, if you binge watch, there’s no room for anxiety, just anticipation. You just keep going from one episode to another, getting lost in the flow until time has passed you by.

God, I can’t wait to binge on surgeries, but right now, I’m just an intern, so I have to take what scraps off the table I can get and try not to piss off any of the residents or attending physicians.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Dr. Carver,” I return the greeting with the most sincere smile I can manage. “And thank you again for letting me scrub in earlier.”

“Don’t sweat it.” She bites into the cupcake in her hand and lets out a sound between a sigh and a squeal. “Oh my God. The frosting on this is amazing. If these are homemade, I want the recipe. Mm, that amount of pumpkin spice is just right.”

“Would you like me to ask?”

Dr. Carver looks at me. “Smithson, your shift is over. You’re not required to kiss my ass anymore.”

“Sorry,” I mumble as I bring my cup of punch to my lips.

There goes my attempt at sincerity.

A moment later, I cough as I set down my cup. What the hell did I just drink?

“Lived up to its name?” Dr. Carver asks.

I take my glasses off so I can wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes. “Feels more like I got burned then punched.”

She grins. “I guess Maggie still hasn’t gotten her recipe right.”

I frown. So this horrid excuse for a Thanksgiving punch has been served before? Come to think of it, none of the residents or attending physicians are drinking it. But of course they didn’t warn us interns. Where would the fun be in that?

I put my glasses back on. “Maggie?”

“Accounting. Lovely person.”

“Maybe she should stick to crunching numbers.”

Dr. Carver narrows her eyes at me.

Oops.

“Smithson, do you have a life?”

What? “Y-yes,” I answer as I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I…”

“I mean outside this hospital. Do you have a life? What do you do when you’re not here?”

“I…” I rattle my brain for an answer. “Sleep?”

“And let me guess. That’s what you’re doing later?”

“Yes.”

When I get back to my apartment, I’m going to grab a bite then take a shower, put on my sleep shirt and my eye mask, and sleep for as many hours as I can.

Dr. Carver sighs. “FYI, Smithson, that’s not a life.”

I shrug. “But if I don’t sleep, Dr. Carver, I’ll… die.”

“I’m not telling you not to sleep. I’m saying you should do more. Take tonight, for example. It’s Thanksgiving, right?”

I nod.

“I know you can’t be with your family, but instead of going straight to bed, why not hit a bar with your fellow interns?”

“I don’t drink.”

“Then just get a Shirley Temple. But go! Laugh with your friends.”

“They’re not my friends.”

When you’re an intern, everyone else is either your case, your boss or your competitor. No friends.

“Dance.”

“I don’t dance.”

Dr. Carver rolls her eyes. “Now I understand why you’re a virgin.”

My eyes grow wide. How does she know that?

A quick glance at the snickering interns across the room gives me my answer. Why, those little…

“Smithson.” Dr. Carver reels my attention back. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“And still a virgin.”

I frown. “With all due respect, Dr. Carver, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with – ”

“Word of advice, Smithson.” She crumples the cupcake sheet. “If you want to survive in this hospital, if you want to feel alive in a place reeking of death, you need to loosen up and get laid.”

She presses the paper against my palm.

“And tonight seems like a good time to start.”

She walks off.

“Dr. Carver, I don’t believe interns should have sex with other interns,” I blurt out after her.

I know it’s common practice. Too common. It’s like a phase the interns go through, as if they practice on each other before going after the residents or the attendings. But I definitely don’t approve.

She glances over her shoulder. “Who said anything about banging another intern? Just find someone with a dick, Smithson, preferably not too big so you don’t tear that much.”

Tear?

She waves her hand and leaves. I throw the cupcake wrapper and my glass of punch in a trash bin and walk over to the other side of the room. I cross my arms over my chest and clear my throat. The other interns fall silent and turn their heads towards me.