Lydia raised a brow. “I mean, when was the last time you went on a date?”
Grant took his phone from his pocket, checking for messages. “A reasonable amount of time.”
“Eight months,” a new voice chipped in.
Grant frowned at Leon as he plopped down into the chair behind the desk. “And how would you possibly know that?”
Leon tapped the keyboard in front of him. “You’re a little too meticulous for your own good buddy. You put everything in your schedule.”
Grant squinted. “I’m fairly sure I have never mentioned a date in any of my appointments.”
“Nope, but you mention every appointment and plan under the sun, so they know how to schedule you. Doesn’t matter if it’s the dentist, dinner with your parents or…” Leon leaned forward. “Lunch with Eric, two o’clock.”
“And?” Grant asked.
“And you only use names for personal appointments, and in two years of manning this desk, I’ve never seen an Eric before.”
“It’s disturbing that you know so much about my personal life.”
Lydia snorted. “What personal life?”
Well, that stung. There was some truth to it, but it still stung.
“Thank you, Lydia, you do know how to raise morale,” Grant said dryly.
“I’ll raise your morale after I get back from my honeymoon,” she told him.
He knew a lost fight when he saw one. For reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom, Lydia was bound and determined to find him someone. It wasn’t as though Grant didn’t appreciate her attempts. She was, after all, just trying to make him happy. For all intents and purposes, though, Grant considered himself to be a happy man. He had a career that allowed him a cozy home and two cats who were both ambivalent and adoring of his existence. And he had enough left over to both save money and help his parents.
Sure, it would be nice to have someone to occupy one side of his bed, and maybe fill the spaces in his home not already taken up by felines. There were those nights, because it was always at night, where he’d find himself a little wistful. Loneliness would creep from the shadows of his mind and burrow its way into his heart. Most of the time, he could find his way to sleep, rising refreshed and back to his old self in the morning. Then there were the times where he had to turn to a far more direct sort of relief. He might not be schooled in dating, but he was familiar with the occasional lay here and there.
“I can promise you that I’m just fine the way I am,” Grant told her firmly.
“That’s what you always say,” she countered.
“And?”
Leon snorted. “And you know she’s not going to be happy until you’re more than fine.”
“She might if someone didn’t give her all the details of my life,” Grant accused.
Leon shrugged. “I was bribed.”
“Bribed,” Grant repeated doubtfully.
Leon nodded. “She knows my weaknesses, and I am not a strong man, Dr. Andrews.”
Lydia rolled her eyes. “I gave him those chocolates he likes so much.”
“Oh, right. The ones with the hot peppers,” Grant said.
Leon sighed longingly. “So tasty, so spicy, I can’t help myself.”
Lydia scrunched her nose. “Dr. Andrews might need a man, but I think you need to get laid.”
“That’s what days off are for,” Leon informed her.
“And on that note,” Lydia said, swiping the folders up again. “I’m going to go do my rounds. Aren’t you supposed to be doing clinic hours today, Dr. Andrews?”
“Just the sort of exit I need, thank you, Lydia,” Grant said, turning on his heel to walk off before they thought of something else.
Their chuckles followed him down the hall before he turned the corner out of sight. Some of the doctors, especially the older ones, weren’t thrilled by clinic duty. Personally, Grant relished the chance to deal with people’s problems that didn’t involve burns, missing limbs, or any of the other assortment of life-threatening problems. Plus, it wasn’t quite as quiet as the rest of the hospital, and sometimes a little noise and chaos were just what he needed to keep himself occupied.
Minutes later, he opened the door to the clinic and blinked at the people milling around. One man sat with his feet propped up, taking up two chairs, another was holding a wastebasket to his chest, looking decidedly green. Surrounding them were a few dozen people, some holding bandages to themselves, others in the corner, avoiding eye contact.
“Just another day in paradise,” a gruff voice said at his shoulder.
Grant looked down in surprise at the head nurse of the clinic. “Millie. Did I miss something?”
The stout woman frowned up at him. “It’s Friday night, Grant, it’s always like this on Fridays.”
Was it Friday? Lord, maybe he did need to get out a little.
“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I’m here,” Grant said.
“Yep,” she said, shoving a chart into his hand. “And here’s your first one. Have fun with that one. Room four.”
He frowned at her smirk as she stomped off toward the nurses’ station. Millie Thompson had been working at the hospital far longer than he had, and she was well acquainted with the staff. She was also probably the only reason the clinic didn’t devolve into complete chaos on a daily basis. She was a woman who believed in helping people, but that didn’t mean taking anyone’s nonsense.
“Alright, room four,” he muttered, opening the folder.
As he reached the door, he frowned down at the names as he opened it. “Alright, Mr. Matthers and, Mr...Atkins.”
The second name sounded vaguely familiar, but it was the sight before him that gave him pause. A nervous-looking man sat on the edge of the examination table, his back to the door. The man tossed his hair out of his eyes as he looked over his shoulder, cringing when he caught sight of Grant.
“Uh, hi. Matthers is me...uh, Brad, hi.”
Grant stepped in, closing the door behind him. “Hello, Brad. And where would Theodore Atkins be?”
From the other side of the table came a muffled but indignant. “Ith Theo!”
Keeping his face neutral, Grant stepped around the table to look in front of Brad. His lap was covered by a blanket, but there was no mistaking the figure knelt before him. Apparently, someone had been kind enough to give Mr. Atkins a small pillow to kneel on rather than the hard floor.
Grant cleared his throat. “Well, how about you remove the blanket and show me what the problem is.”
Brad cringed. “Isn’t it like...in the file?”
“Oh, for fuckth thake,” came a growl beneath the blanket.
An arm, completely covered in ink, shot out from beneath the blanket and gripped the edge. Brad winced as the man under the blanket fought to throw it off, finally tossing it to the side with a huff. Grant kept his reaction to a slow blink as Theodore came into view. Now he understood what Millie had been smirking about.
Theodore’s mouth was the barest fraction of an inch from the tip of Brad’s penis. It took only a glance to see that Theodore’s tongue piercing had found itself lodged in the thick ring through the glans of Brad’s penis. It wasn’t the first sexual mishap he’d ever dealt with in the clinic, but Theodore’s annoyed huff compared to the sheer embarrassment of Brad was difficult to ignore.