Page 12 of Savage Saint

His ego and personality kill me.

In his mind, he’s God’s personal gift to medicine. Which is impressive, considering the man isn’t religious.

Could I make a run for it and save myself this conversation?

“I’m waiting.” His deadpan voice kills that hopeful thought. Then he looks down—from my face to the items in my hands—his brow arching as if saying: Well?

“It’s called borrowing, Dr. Rodriguez.” I give him a forced, sweet smile. “A short-term loan, if you will.”

“That’s an interesting interpretation, Nurse Romero.”

“It’s the correct one.”

“You have no business in this room. It belongs to this department’s attendings.”

“Bill me. I’ll pay for a bag of the coffee you use myself.”

“And the cookies? Because we both know you can’t cook or bake.”

I grind my teeth, ignoring the jab. “Cari brought these for everyone. Not just the doctors.”

“No.”

“Yes. Everyone.”

“No.”

My next blink is slow. “No?”

His expression doesn’t change. “I said no.”

I stare at him. He stares back. And for a moment, neither of us says anything.

This is ridiculous.

We’re arguing over cookies. Cookies.

At one in the morning, in a hospital corridor, and somehow, Dr. Rodriguez looks like he’s prepared to take this all the way to the country’s Supreme Court if need be. Stingy asshole.

“You’re telling me Cari, the head nurse, brought cookies into this hospital and told you, specifically, that they were only for the attendings? That no other staff could have one.”

“That’s not one. I see six.”

“Semantics, and I have a friend.”

“Then split a cookie. One. Not six.”

“Are you serious right now?” I’ve lost the battle for composure and give him an annoyed look. “Because if I remember correctly, you and Dr. Silva stole my last bag of powdered donuts and Takis not that long ago.”

“They were too spicy. You failed at labeling them correctly.”

“So it’s okay for you to borrow, but not me. It’s okay for me to offer to pay back what we used, but again, not you?”

“That was different.”

“Of course it is,” I mutter, and turn to walk away, throwing the rest of my reply at him over my shoulder. “Thanks for the pep talk. I’m heading back to the nurses’ station now; I have rounds to make and some paperwork to finish between bites.”

“We needed them.” Not exactly a shout, but definitely a sour huff.