"Thanks."
Tucker opened the menu, studied it for a minute while he made his selection, then closed it. Their waiter came by, introduced himself and told them about the specials, then asked if they wanted more to drink. Tucker looked over at Aubry.
"I'll have another Chianti."
"Another beer for me."
They ordered appetizers and their meals while their waiter was there. He walked off to get their drinks.
"Now it's my turn to apologize," Aubry said.
"For what?"
"For baiting you about football. I was just teasing you. Not about me liking football, but about why you chose baseball."
He shrugged. "I'm used to it. I've taken shit my entire life for besmirching the Cassidy name by becoming a pitcher instead of taking on football."
"You have not. Really? Hopefully not by your family."
"Nah. My brothers give me a hard time, but that's what brothers are for. My parents have always been supportive. My dad told me to do what makes me happy."
"I'm so glad to hear that. As long as the people you care about support you, they're who matter. Everyone else can go fuck themselves."
He laughed. "Thanks. That's what I've always thought."
"Look, I know exactly where you're coming from. My choice to go into medicine was a surprise to a lot of people. My mother is in finance and she helps run the Ross empire with Dad. His love of sports is legendary. It was always assumed that I, as their only child, would move into the family business and work in the front office of Ross Enterprises. But I excelled in math and science, and from a young age I knew I wanted to be a doctor."
Their waiter brought their appetizer, along with bread, and Tucker and Aubry dug in.
"Did your parents encourage you along that path?"
She nodded while pouring oil and vinegar onto a plate, then selected a slice of bread for dipping. "Absolutely. Though my uncle--not the one we were hunting for that night I met you, by the way. Uncle Davis is my mother's brother. This is my other uncle, my father's brother. Anyway, slightly off topic there. My Uncle Oliver thought it was awful of me to even consider not following in my father's footsteps. Since I'm the only heir, he said, it was my responsibility to carry on the Ross legacy. My uncle never married or had children, so he told me the continuation of our dynasty falls to me."
"Ouch. That's a pretty heavy burden to place on someone's shoulders."
"Yeah."
"It's good your parents encouraged you to do what you were meant to do, even if that means deviating from the family path."
"Yes. And I love them for it. If even once they had asked me to get my degree in business or finance so I could carry on the family name at Ross Enterprises, I'd have done it."
"Really?"
"Of course. They mean everything to me. I'd do whatever it took to make them happy, especially if carrying on the family name and business was vital to them. Fortunately, it never came to that. Dad is so proud that I'm becoming a doctor."
"That's great."
"I assume your dad is the same way."
"Yeah. He wouldn't have cared if any of us boys had gone into sports at all, as long as we did something productive with our lives, and we were happy doing it."
She speared some of the toasted ravioli and took a taste. "Mmm. This is good. Take a bite."
She put another ravioli on her fork, waving it in front of him. He grasped her wrist, then slid the fork into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.
"You're right. It's good."
Aubry hadn't wanted to even go to dinner with Tucker, let alone find herself relaxing and having such an intense conversation about families with him. Maybe it was the two glasses of wine, but she felt calm and settled.
Or maybe it was because he'd sincerely apologized right away, and then he'd proceeded to charm her with his honesty and his candor about his life and his family. She'd been out on dates before with men who'd done nothing but scratched the surface. She already knew more about Tucker in the short period of time she'd known him than she knew about a lot of guys she'd dated for months.
"When's your next game?" she asked.
"We have five more games at home, so a decent home stretch. Then we're on the road to Chicago after that."
"How do you feel about all the travel?"
"It's part of the job." He picked up another ravioli, only this time he fed it to her. She smiled when he slipped the fork between her lips. The action was so intimate, she felt the tug in her lower belly, especially when their gazes met and held. A collision of sensation, between the delicious food, the nice buzz from the wine, and the man who confused her and definitely attracted her.
The waiter brought their dinner. She was already full, but the tempting aromas renewed her appetite. She had the champagne chicken, while Tucker had the veal. They swapped tastes of each other's food. It was delicious, a decadent delight to her senses.
"Tell me about your bad day," Tucker said as they were finishing up. "We've talked enough about me."
"It wasn't that bad, really. My attending physician was a little rough on me for not being sensitive to a patient's needs."
He leveled his gaze on hers. "What happened?"
She found herself elaborating in great detail about the child and her mother. She explained how tense the situation had been, how Chen had smoothed things over and how out of her element she'd appeared to her boss.
He nodded. "Rough situation. I'm sure you were handling it just fine, but it's hard with little kids, ya know? Even at the best of times they can be a handful. And because the kid was already upset, there was probably nothing you could have done to calm her. Your boss was just the lucky second party to come in and make things all better."
She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "Really. And what makes you the expert on kids."
"Trust me, I'm no expert. But I have siblings. In addition to three brothers, I also have a little sister. When my sister, Mia, was younger, she'd scream her head off about something and one of us or Dad would try to comfort her, and nothing would help. Then Mom would come in, whisper some soft words, and that would be the end of her tirade."
"Oh, well that's the mom effect. All mothers have that calming influence."
He laughed. "You'd think that, wouldn't you, but that didn't always work on Mia. Because the very next instance it would be Mom trying to calm her down, and Dad would be the one walking in the room, saying a few 'aww, poor baby's to her, and poof. Tears gone."
"Hmm. So maybe there is some point to what you're saying."
"I'm tellin' ya, it's like magic. It's like the first person on the scene is invisible. And the second person has that special voice that does the trick. I don't know what it is, but it seems to work. It even happened with me and a couple of my brothers. Barrett and I got into fights all the time. One time he was irritating the shit out of me and I'd had enough, so I hauled off and punched him in the face. He went down, hard, and started bawling like a baby. Grant was nearby so he came in and got a towel for Barrett's bloody nose and tried to get him to stop crying."
"Let me guess," Aubry said. "He wouldn't stop, right?"
"You got it. And then Flynn, who's the oldest, comes in--and you gotta understand, Flynn is one tough sonofabitch. But here's this twelve-year-old kneeling down over Barrett being all soothing and telling him everything is going to be all right, which is basically what Grant had just said to him, but Barrett stopped crying."
Aubry shook her head. "I'm going to make it a point to be the second person in the exam room from now on whenever I have a kid as a patient. I'll send the nurse in first. She can deal with all the crying, and then I'll be the savior."
He laughed. "There's a sound plan."
"Also, you big bully. Punching your brother like that."
"Hey. Do you have any idea how many times Barrett knocked me on my ass? He had it coming."
"If you say so. Your poor mother. She was probably breaking up fights between you all the
time, wasn't she?"
"She did her share, and don't do the poor mom thing. She managed us boys just fine."
"Then poor--what's your sister's name again? Mia?"
"Yes. And don't do the poor Mia thing, either. Being the youngest with four big brothers, she was a master manipulator. She had us all wrapped around her little finger."
Aubry laughed. "Okay, then. I feel better about your little sister."
They had coffee after dinner, but both of them passed on dessert.
"When do you have days off?" he asked.
"They vary. I work some weekends, and sometimes I have days off during the week."
"Me, too. Well, except for the fact that I never have weekends off. Not during the season, anyway."
"That must suck for you."
"I'm used to it. It's just part of the job." He finished his coffee, then put his cup to the side. "You should come to a game."
"I've seen plenty of games. I'm not really all that interested."
"But you haven't seen me pitch. I'm good."
"You mean you're good when someone isn't kicking you in the balls, or stomping on your leg, or when you're not falling over a pile of rocks?"
"Hey. You haven't exactly seen me at my best. On the mound, when I'm throwing the ball? That's my best."
"Humble, aren't you?"
"Athletes have to think they're the best at what they do. Otherwise, what's the point in playing?"
"I suppose." She took a sip of coffee, wondering what it was about him that intrigued her so much she was actually entertaining the idea of attending a baseball game. Her parents had dragged her to so many baseball games that now she only did it with the greatest amount of reluctance, and only when her father insisted.
"Don't you think you're a great doctor?"
"I have good days and bad days, but I haven't yet reached the God complex phase of my medical career yet."
He laughed. "I see. At what point does that occur?"
"Hopefully never. There are already plenty of those types of doctors out there--mainly the surgeons. And since I'm not a surgeon, I don't see me ever thinking of myself as godlike."
"Good to know. But just FYI? You're a really good doctor, Aubry. And I speak from experience as one of your patients."
She looked down at her cup, then up at him, not sure how to react to his praise. It wasn't something she heard often, since she mostly heard criticism, and since she saw her patients for a brief period of time, and typically only once. It wasn't like most of them were repeat customers who offered feedback on services rendered. "Thank you. I'm glad you think so."
"I think your boss, or attending physician or whatever, should tell you that more often."
"It's not his job to tell us where we're doing well. It's his job to tell us where we're falling short. To make us better."
"I guess. I don't know. Seems to me he should give you the good parts as well as the not so good."
She shook her head. "It doesn't work that way. The emergency room is a fast-paced environment, without a lot of time for 'atta girl's. If we're screwing up somewhere, there's only time to point that out, so we know what not to do in the future. If we're doing something right, we won't hear about it."
"In baseball, it's different. If I'm working with my pitching coach and a pitch is working particularly well, he'll tell me so I can work to replicate it. And of course, he'll let me know if my mechanics are off so I can correct it. But I still get to hear the good as well as the bad."
"We're in completely different fields, Tucker. You can't compare the two. You're constantly working on your craft, trying to perfect it, even the parts that are working well. Your evaluations will be completely different from mine."
He reached across the table and grasped her hand. "Aren't you doing the same thing?"
She looked down where his much larger hand covered hers. She'd never thought about all the things she'd done right during her time in medical school, through her internship and her years in residency. She'd concentrated her efforts trying to fix all the things she'd done wrong. It was a constant learning process.
But Tucker was right--she'd done good things, and she'd learned so much. She often forgot to take the time to pat herself on the back about all those good things.
"Thank you, Tucker."
"For what?"
"For reminding me that I'm good at what I do."
He smiled. "You're welcome. Try reminding yourself every day."
"I will."
He paid the bill, and they headed out toward his car. He drove her back to the hospital, stopping out front.
"Where are you parked? I'll drive you to your car."
"Here is fine. I'm parked in the physician's lot and you need an access code to get in there."
He turned in his seat to face her. "Would you like to come to my place? I really liked spending time with you tonight, Aubry. I don't want it to end yet."
Her stomach did a tumble. She'd started out the evening so angry with him for not calling her. But at dinner, they'd had such an in-depth conversation. She'd learned a lot about him. If nothing else, she wanted to continue to learn more, to talk more with him.
"I'd like that. Wait here for me and I'll meet you."
She got out of the car and hustled her way to the elevators.
"Dr. Ross?"
She stopped and turned as one of the attendings she occasionally worked with on the night shift called her name.
"Yes, Dr. Landing."
"We've got a multiple-vehicle accident coming in. We could use all the hands we can get."
"I'm . . . off duty."
"Not now you aren't. We're shorthanded and need some help."
She sighed. As a resident, she had to do what she was told, and as a doctor, it was her duty to help the sick and injured. Thankfully she'd had that last glass of wine more than an hour ago and had enjoyed a couple of cups of coffee since then. "Of course. I'll go change and be right there."
She headed down the hallway, grabbing her phone out of her pocket. She punched in Tucker's number.
He answered right away. "Did you get lost on your way to the car?"
"Worse. There's a multi-vehicle accident on its way in. One of my attendings just stopped me and asked me to help."
"Go do your job, Aubry. I'll call you tomorrow."
She appreciated that he understood. "Okay, thanks, Tucker."
She hung up, slipped her phone in her purse and hustled her way into the locker room to change into a pair of scrubs.
TRUE TO HIS WORD THIS TIME, AND BECAUSE HE REALIZED he didn't always follow through, Tucker contacted Aubry the next afternoon. He figured after putting in some extra time at the hospital, she might be exhausted and need some sleep, so he texted her and said to let him know when she was awake.
She texted him just as he got to the ballpark for warm-ups.
Got your text. Sorry. Late night that went longer than expected. What does your evening look like?
He smiled and sent her a return text.
Just got to the ballpark. Have a game tonight. I'm pitching. Wanna come?
It took her a few minutes to reply with: Sure.
He laughed, because he knew she obviously didn't want to come. She was probably tired. But he'd take what he could get. So he texted back.
Great. Assume you'll sit in the owner's box with your dad. See you after the game.
Several minutes later, she replied.
Good luck, Tucker.
He grinned, then headed into the locker room. It was time to get into game mode and clear his mind of everything else. This was an important game. After yesterday's loss on their home turf, they needed to win this one tonight.
And it was up to him to pitch well.
AUBRY ARRIVED AT THE BALLPARK RIGHT BEFORE THE game started. She had no idea what she was doing there. She'd ended up working until ten a.m. Dr. Chen finally gave her a break and told her to take the rest of the day off, since, other than dinner with Tucker last
night, she'd basically been working nonstop.
The multi-vehicle accident had been brutal. They'd lost one of the victims, unable to resuscitate him. He'd coded twice in the ambulance on the way, and the team had worked on him for forty minutes until the attending had finally, reluctantly, called it.
It was always difficult to lose a patient, but his injuries had been too severe for them to save him. Then they'd concentrated on taking care of everyone else, including the man's wife and two children who'd also been injured, though nothing life threatening. Thank goodness.
They'd recover. But a woman had lost her husband, and those kids had lost their dad. The attending physician had been the one to tell the wife that her husband hadn't made it. Some day that would be her job.
She wasn't looking forward to it. She was in the business of saving lives, not losing them.
It had been a rough night, and she'd gone home, fallen into bed and immediately passed out until she woke about five p.m., dazed and groggy. Six hours was a lot of sleep for her. She'd headed straight for her coffeemaker, eaten a bowl of oatmeal and then taken a shower, both of which had helped a lot.
Then she'd gone through her phone and seen Tucker's text. And when he'd asked if she'd come to the game, the logical part of her brain had told her to say no.
But she sensed the eagerness in his request, so here she was, in the owner's box, smiling as she greeted her dad.
He hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. "This is a surprise. You hardly ever come to the games anymore. You're always working."
"I did a double shift last night, then took a nice nap. I thought I'd pop in."
"I'm glad you're here." He put his arm around her. "It's a good series to watch."
He led her over to the bar, where she had the bartender fix her a Bloody Mary. She sat down at one of the front tables with her dad, a spot with a great view of the on-field action.
"Tell me how work is going," he said.
"Busy. Intense. Brutal at times. Had a rough night last night." She told him about her double shift.
He smoothed his hand over her hair. "What you do isn't for everyone. It takes someone with a lot of heart--and grit--to handle it. You're tough, Aubry. A lot tougher than most people. It's why at first I thought you could handle this business. But when you gravitated toward medicine, I knew you could do that as well."
"Thanks, Dad." Sometimes all she needed were her father's pep talks. He was good at being frank with her. In college, when she'd been down about how hard the workload and pressure were, he'd reminded her she was smart, and that she could handle anything. He'd also told her the Rosses weren't wusses, and she needed to rise to the challenge. He wasn't one to coddle his only daughter. So while her mother had always given her a shoulder to lean on, her father had given her tough love.