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The Chief of Surgery Wrote the No-Dating Rule, and I'm Breaking It in His Supply Closet novel · Chapter 6 of 24

Chapter 6: Out of Service

I was in his lap in the middle of an office with a glass wall.

I slid off him and hit the carpet on my knees.

I went under the desk so fast I cracked my head on the drawer.

Kurt zipped himself up with one hand and pulled his chair in with the other.

"Come in," he called.

His voice was perfectly level, which was just unfair.

The door opened.

From my hiding place I could see Pembrey's loafers, shiny brown with little tassels.

They stopped about three feet from my nose.

"I forgot to say," said Pembrey. "The board is meeting on the twelfth. I'd like the fellowship numbers on my desk before then."

"I'll have the coordinator send them."

"Wonderful."

The loafers did not move.

"Is that Dr. Fairweather's chart?" he asked.

I stopped breathing.

"It is," Kurt said. "She dropped it off. A question about a patient."

"I didn't pass her in the corridor."

"She took the stairs."

"How industrious of her."

The tassels turned toward the door, then turned back.

"Your face is still a little red, Kurt."

"It's a warm office, Orson."

"You should open a window."

"I'll think about it."

The loafers went out, and the door clicked shut.

I stayed where I was for a full two minutes, with my forehead on the cool wood and my shoulders shaking.

"Stop laughing," Kurt said, above me.

"I'm not."

"You're making the desk vibrate."

I crawled out and sat on the carpet with my arms around my knees.

"Kurt," I said, when I'd stopped. "Why is there a vascular surgeon's name on my midyear packet?"

His face didn't change.

"Midyear packets go to an outside reader," he said. "That's standard."

"You never mentioned it."

"I didn't think it needed mentioning."

That was true.

I knew it was true, because the other fellow, Benji, had gotten a signature from a stranger too.

I let it go.

I should have kept holding it.

That night at one a.m. I was standing in the service elevator on four with a cart of linens and a cold coffee.

The service elevator is a big steel box with scratched walls, a fold-down seat, and a speaker grille by the buttons.

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