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Angela returned her attention to the other woman. “What’s that?”
“Roman, my dear. He’s very good-looking. Sexy even,” she added with a twinkle in her eye.
“You’re a nun,” Angela reminded her.
“And? I have eyes, don’t I? They may be old, but they still work.” Sister Philomena paused, pursing her lips. “For example, I see today you’re wearing a turtleneck sweater.”
Angela sputtered, dropping one of the bandages she had just picked up from the stack in the center of the table in the storage room. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Ask me how many times I’ve seen you wear a high-collared top since I’ve known you.”
It sounded very much like a dare, and Angela wanted nothing to do with it. “No. I don’t think I will,” she replied primly.
Sister Philomena laughed. “Because you know the answer is zero.”
It was zero, Angela admitted silently. The canny old nun was correct. She didn’t wear the sweater often, even though the color was gorgeous, and it was super soft. She couldn’t stand anything around her neck for long. She found it restrictive and, at times, triggering. So she chose not to wear certain items of clothing. “It was time for a change,” she finally responded.
“It suits you. The change,” Sister Philomena clarified. She patted Angela on the cheek. “You’re a good girl, Angela.”
She thought about Roman sticking his tongue inside of her until she screamed his name last night. Good girls don’t come like that, her conscience whispered. But she kept the thought to herself, knowing she had done her best to stop the madness with Roman before it went too far.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Angela’s shift went quickly for a change, and she was pleased to make it to the end of the day without any major casualties. Being the hospital with the biggest trauma center in the city meant mass casualties were a common occurrence, and it was rare for her to make it through a shift without anyone dying.
“And isn’t that just fucking depressing,” she muttered out loud.
“What was that, Dr. Hawthorne?”
Angela smiled self-consciously at the male nurse behind the desk. “Sorry, Finn. I was talking to myself.”
Finley grinned back. “All good. I do it all the time.” He winked, his dimples flashing appealingly. “It’s the only way I get an intelligent conversation around here.”
Angela laughed. “Good point. I guess you can’t blame us then.”
“Not at all,” Finn agreed. “You have a good night.”
“Thanks, Finn. You too,” Angela said, handing him the last of the files she was carrying.
Finn had been working at the hospital for almost as long as Angela. He was a friendly, happy guy who was very nice to look at. But what Angela liked best about him was that he was a damn good nurse. He was competent as well as kind, and knew his way around an emergency. She could always count on him, and she breathed a little easier whenever they were on shift together.
Saying goodbye to the nurses and the night janitors, she made her way to the hospital exit. They were the backbone of the hospital, and she always made sure they knew how much she valued them. Not all doctors gave the same level of shits she did, though. Especially some of her fellow surgeons. Which was why she didn’t really hang out with any of them socially. She’d seen and heard enough of the elite growing up—it wasn’t something she wanted to be a part of anymore. And luckily for her, she was a grown-ass woman and could choose whom she gave the time of day to.
“Angela, a word?”
Angela sighed a little, slowing down so Dr. Brian Cosgrove could catch up with her. She smiled politely when he joined her, and they kept walking across the outdoor parking lot. “Hi, Brian. How are you?”
“I’m well, thank you. Sorry to trouble you at the end of your shift. Big day?” he asked courteously.
“It’s fine. Actually, today wasn’t too bad. Nobody died,” she replied.
His eyebrows rose in shock, and he grinned. “Wow. A glowing testament indeed.”
Angela snickered. “Right?” Her shoulders relaxed a little. Brian was an okay guy and a very talented surgeon. She’d had a drink or two with him in the past and knew he had once been interested in her romantically. Thankfully, he had taken it gracefully when she’d told him she didn’t date. And certainly not colleagues. That was a recipe for disaster.
“I was wondering if I could pick your brains about...” he began, only to cut off. “Hey, you have some fluff on you. Allow me...”
Before she could react, Brian reached up, brushing her sweater high up on her neck. The motion tugged the material down, revealing the sex bite to his shocked gaze.
