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seren_ccdMcCoy was standing outside the clinic the next morning at seven forty-five as Janice pulled into the parking lot to drop Christine off. He had a tray of to-go cups in one and a bag from the local bakery in the other.
“Hel-lo, salty goodness,” Janice said looking McCoy over.
“Remind me to take away your Buffy DVDs,” Christine said.
“Touch my James Marsters and die,” Janice said not taking her eyes off McCoy. “Isn’t he yummy looking?”
“Yeah, but can he practice medicine?” Christine said as she opened the door.
“He can practice anything he wants to on me,” Janice said.
Christine made a face at her and closed the door. Janice honked the horn as she drove off.
“Mornin’,” McCoy said looking refreshed and cleaner than he had the previous day. “I figure it’d be good to start my first day off with a bribe.” He held out the tray of coffees and the pastry bag.
“And you went to Martha’s,” Christine said as she unlocked the door, ignoring the voice in her head that was gushing stupidly over the fact that not only was this man gorgeous, he was polite. Polite. The ultimate turn on. “Good choice.”
“Glad you approve.”
“How was your first night?” she asked holding the door open for him.
“Not bad,” he said. “Considering I fell asleep as soon as I hit the bed. It’s a quiet town.”
Christine hid a smile. “Most of the time.”
She flipped on the waiting room lights and headed behind the reception desk, McCoy following her. She put her bag behind the desk and turned to face him. Once again, he held out the tray and the bag, looking almost sheepish. She couldn’t help smiling and wondered if the fluttery feelings in her tummy were butterflies?
Knock it off, she told herself. Be professional. It’s not like he’s done something amazing, it’s just coffee and muffins. He probably didn’t even bring cream and sugar.
Christine took a cup of coffee and the bag. “Thank you,” she said taking out a muffin. “This was very thoughtful. You didn’t have to.”
“I’m a firm believer in keeping nurses as happy as possible,” he said grabbing a muffin for himself.
“That’s a very good policy,” she said.
He shrugged. “You’re the ones who run the place. I just work here. Oh, there’s cream and sugar, if you need it.”
Ha! a little voice said. Cream and sugar! See? Polite! Holy crap.
Christine smiled and he returned it with a smile his own, and holy cow, was that electric current audible? It felt like it was audible. And was this flirting? The smiling and the coffee and the muffins? Did that qualify as flirting? She needed a manual.
The front door opened and Nora came in calling, “Morning, dear! I wonder if the new boy will be on time.”
McCoy gave Christine a look and with a smirk she called out, “He’s on time and he brought muffins.”
“Are they from Martha’s?” Nora asked coming around the desk, squinting her eyes at the bag.
“They are,” Christine said.
“Good boy,” Nora said patting McCoy on the cheek and Christine simply had to laugh at his startled expression.
The morning prep period went by quickly. Christine and Nora showed McCoy the clinic in precise detail and he asked a lot of good questions that settled most of Christine’s prior reservations.
As they walked out of what McCoy considered an impressive x-ray room for a small town, he asked, “Is there anything you’d like to know about me? Or ask?”
“I have to admit I’ve already had a pretty good look at your resume,” Christine said. “I kind of insisted.”
“I wouldn’t have expected anything less,” he said honestly as they walked into the reception area. “I’m really impressed with the way this place is organized and kept up.”
“Well, it’s got a fair amount of traffic that goes through it, so we’ve had to be economical and efficient about things,” Christine said handing him the appointment sheet for the day.
He scanned it and said, “Looks pretty basic.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” Nora said as she did something complicated to the phones, taking them off the evening service.
McCoy raised an eyebrow and Christine simply said, “Don’t listen to her; she’s just trying to ruffle your feathers.”
“Better to ruffle them now as opposed to later,” Nora said almost ominously.
“Consider them ruffled,” McCoy said looking back and forth between the two women.
“You’ll be fine,” Christine said. “Surely you’ve seen your share of action in Atlanta?”
“Too much,” McCoy said going back to the appointment list. “I’m looking forward to a distinct lack of drama and emergencies.”
Christine and Nora exchanged a look that went unnoticed by McCoy.
“Well, Nora’s about to let the hordes in,” Christine said. “Is there anything you want to ask us?”
“Can’t think of anything at the moment, but I’m sure I’ll have a list by lunchtime,” he said meeting her eyes. “I should probably warn you that I have a terrible tendency towards bluntness and no filter whatsoever on what comes out of my mouth.”
“Oh,” Christine said mildly, cocking her head to the side.
“I’ve been told my bark is worse than my bite, but…” He shrugged. “So don’t be afraid to tell me what’s on your mind or if you think I’m doing something wrong, ‘cause I can almost guarantee I won’t.”
Oh, hell. Polite and honest, Christine thought. I’m really going to like this guy, aren’t I?
“Sounds like a deal to me,” she said. He held out a hand for her to shake and after a slight hesitation, Christine took it. She couldn’t help but notice how large and warm and nice his hand was. Just like his eyes. Warm and hazel and friendly. And weren’t they such a change to Roger’s cool, blue eyes that assessed everything and always found something wanting. Startled by the inadvertent comparison, she dropped his hand like a hot potato. McCoy blinked looking slightly unsettled himself.
Damn it, Christine, she thought. It is one thing to like the guy. It’s quite another to think of him as an alternative to your ex. That’s just wrong. And inappropriate. You’re not looking to date the man.
I’m not? a very sneaky voice whispered.
“Well,” McCoy coughed. “Better let the masses in.”
“You got it, doctor,” Nora said.
The morning set of appointments went very smoothly: a questionable rash that turned out to be poison oak, a urinary tract infection and a few standard physicals. Having decided to stick by McCoy’s side, Christine quickly realized that it wasn’t really necessary. He was efficient and to the point, but it became clear rather immediately that he wasn’t dismissive. He listened. He asked questions. He, weirdly enough, put people – who weren’t Christine – at ease. Honestly, it was kind of a shock.
By lunch she knew that Jim’s magic 8-ball intuition was right; hiring his buddy was a damn good idea. Of course, she’d have to see how he handled the after lunch crowd, but she felt optimistic
Christine finished off her homemade salad and was chatting with Nora in the break room, when McCoy came back in from his lunch over at Pavel’s.
He smiled when he saw her and she felt the something that was becoming worryingly familiar ping in her chest and was smiling back before she could help it. Dammit.
“I can see why Scotty’s nervous,” he said. “That was a damn good sandwich.”
“Did you have the Reuben or the chicken salad?” Nora asked.
“The chicken salad,” he said. “Apples. Who knew?”
Christine chuckled. He stood to one side as Christine and Nora exited the break room heading back to reception. Nora handed him a sheet of paper.
“What’s this?” he asked scanning the sheet.
“The Walk-in List,” Christine said. “Folks who’ve called and asked to come in. Dr. M’Benga and I will handle most of the scheduled appointments while you and Alice handle the walk-ins. I’ll lend a hand when I’ve got a free moment, though.”
“There’s twenty different cases on this list,” McCoy said with a frown. “Is that normal? For a Tuesday?”
“Welcome to Enterprise,” Nora said dryly before she answered the phone. McCoy stared at her and then switched his stare to Christine.
She shrugged. “Welcome to Enterprise.”
The clock struck one pm and then post-lunch crowd surged in.
Gaila ran a comb expertly through Mrs. Peterson’s new bob and said cheerfully, “There you go! What do you think?”
Mrs. Peterson looked at her reflection in the mirror Gaila held up behind her head and smiled. “It’s perfect, as always, dear. And it’ll go wonderfully with my new dress.”
“Ooh, new dress?” Gaila said as she took the apron off her client. “Sounds like someone’s got a date.”
“Herb’s taking me out to that new place in Riverside that just opened up,” Mrs. Peterson said.
“When? And what’s the occasion?” Gaila asked trying her best to sound casual even though quite a bit was riding on the answer.
“Tonight! And no occasion, just for fun,” Mrs. Peterson said leaning in to whisper, “Which is why I bought a new dress!”
“Well, I hope you have a fabulous time,” Gaila said with a brilliant smile.
“Oh, I plan on it!” Mrs. Peterson gave a wave as she headed to the front of the salon to pay Gaila’s assistant Sherri.
Gaila sighed and straightened up her station. She caught sight of the tray of bills and shuddered internally. Hesitating for only a moment, she picked up her cell phone and pressed three. She waved brightly at her next client while she waited for the person she was calling to pick up. It went straight to voicemail and Gaila said, “Hey, it’s me. We’re on. Talk to you soon.”
She pressed end and stared at the phone for a second worrying at her bottom lip. Then she tossed her phone back into her purse and went to collect her next appointment.
“Yes, Mr. Turner, I do understand that the construction is quite loud,” Janice said to the irate gentleman on the phone. “However, you were informed about it well in advance.”
She listened to his complaints for a moment and then said, “But, you cannot sue the mayor’s office over noise, Mr. Turner. It doesn’t work that way.”
She continued to placate the gentleman while sorting through the stack of folders on her desk and shifting emails and wondering where the hell Jim was. Spock was already waiting in his office.
Jim walked in with a bag and a cup of coffee just as she was about to send someone to go and find him. He grinned at her and she glared.
“No, I’m very aware of that, Mr. Turner,” she said pointedly narrowing her eyes at Jim. “But, once again, I don’t think it’s the noise that’s making your dog shed his hair.”
Jim made a face and then mouthed, ‘Old man Turner?’
Janice nodded and pointed her index finger at Jim and then dragged it across her throat, her tone on the phone never straying away from pleasant. Jim winced.
He held up the bag and cup of coffee so she could see it was from Martha’s Bakery. Janice rolled her eyes and smiled. She mouthed, ‘You’re forgiven.’
Jim grinned happily and came over to her desk, placing his offering next to her keyboard. He leaned in and kissed her cheek.
They both froze. He’d done that before, of course. On New Year’s and once on her birthday.
But, this time they stopped all movement. Janice felt the phone slip a little in her grasp as Mr. Turner continued to enumerate all of his problems. She turned her head to see Jim looking at her with a puzzled expression on his face.
She blinked. He blinked.
And whatever it was that had come over them evaporated. He lifted his head and backed away.
“Yes, sir,” Janice said turning her attention back to Mr. Turner. “I’ll make a note of it and will ask them to try to tone it down.”
She pointed to Jim’s office and mouthed, ‘Spock.’
Jim nodded and opened his mouth to say something, but stopped and just turned and went into his office.
Janice sat down heavily in her chair and stared at the bakery bag and cup of coffee.
Janice Rand had met Jim Kirk when she was twelve years old. Her family had been in Enterprise for years and Janice had grown up running around the Kirk estate like most of the other local kids. She knew who he was, of course. She watched television.
He looked like he did on the television. Cute and blond and larger than life. He was a whole foot taller than she was and that kind of rankled.
He also seemed, well, fake. As though he was going through motions that he’d done a billion times before. And he probably had.
It made Janice feel unexpectedly sad for him. She wondered if he was lonely?
She also knew that she wasn’t going to treat him any differently. No way. She was going to pretend that he was just any other boy.
Janice repeated this to herself over and over again each time she ran into him. When they met in the street or over at Christine’s aunt’s house. Over and over again. It worked.
Jim Kirk became just another boy and he became her friend.
Her best friend, next to Christine.
Janice had always been really good at fooling herself.
She came back to the present and Mr. Turner’s voice still droning on in her ear.
“No, Mr. Turner,” she said absently. “I don’t know what to do about it either.”
“Now, remember to take it easy,” McCoy said to the last walk-in, a young boy of twelve. “No more skateboarding until that brace comes off. You got extremely lucky with only a sprain and not a broken bone. You hear me, David?”
“Yes, sir, Doctor McCoy,” David said with a toothy grin. “No more ollies until this comes off.”
“Well, considering asking you to stop with the ollies completely is an exercise in futility,” McCoy said sternly. “That’ll have to do. Now, get out of here and don’t come back for another ten years.”
David laughed and dashed into the waiting room to show his mother the bright blue brace on his left arm.
McCoy walked into reception and saw Christine, Alice and Nora grinning at him. He took a step back. “What? What are you all grinning at?”
“Oh, just your optimism,” Nora said. “How many times have we seen young David this year?”
“Is it seven, including this one?” Alice asked looking to Christine for confirmation.
“We may be up to eight with this one,” she said filling in a chart.
“Jesus,” McCoy said shaking his head. “I have never seen a more clumsy community in my life.”
“We have the highest accident rate within a twenty mile radius,” Nora said.
“That’s higher than all of Manhattan,” Alice said.
The pride in their voices had McCoy looking to Christine in disbelief. She smiled and said, “It’s always nice to be good at something.”
McCoy stared at them and then laughed. “Well, you’ve got me there. Now, be honest, is it always like this? I mean, I saw three serious contusions within ninety minutes.”
“We have our share of busy days,” Christine said. “But this afternoon was busier than most.”
“Word got out we had ourselves a new MD,” Nora said. “Folks wanted to see you in action.”
“Right.” McCoy shook his head. “Well, I left a mess in Exam Room Three, I better clean that up.”
“Oh, I’ve got it, doctor,” Alice said moving to stand up.
“No, you keep filling out that chart, I’ve got it.”
The ladies watched him go.
“That is one attractive man,” Nora said.
“Coming and going,” Alice said.
“Honestly. Listen to you two,” Christine said. “What would your husbands say?”
“Stan would agree with me,” Nora said.
Alice nodded. “I doubt Paul would kick him out for eating crackers in bed.”
Christine laughed even as she rolled her eyes, then she went on filling out her paperwork, quietly agreeing with both of their opinions of the new doctor.
The clinic finally closed and locked its doors around seven and Christine made sure to set the alarm. McCoy stood next to her, ostensibly to learn how to activate the security system, but also to breathe in her light, fresh scent that hadn’t faded as the day went on.
“Can I give you a ride home?” he asked as they walked into the parking lot when he realized that the only two cars left were his and Nora’s.
“Oh, thank you,” Christine said looking at him in surprise. “But, Nora’s already giving me one.”
“No car today?” he asked, wondering where her car was. Hadn’t that little blonde girl dropped her off this morning?
“No, not today,” she said. “Or any day, actually.”
He frowned. “You don’t have a car.”
“Not currently,” she said firmly giving him a look that clearly said to drop the subject.
“Well, if you ever need a ride…” He let himself drift off and he looked away.
Way to go, moron, he berated himself. There you go. Poking your nose into places it’s got no business being in. Ass.
They arrived at Nora’s car and ignoring the fact that she was blatantly staring at the two of them, Christine turned to McCoy.
“I thought you did very well today, doctor,” she said. “I-- I hope the afternoon wasn’t too much for you.”
McCoy laughed a little bitterly. “I’ve spent too many Friday and Saturday nights in the emergency room in a huge city for today to faze me too much.” The furrow in his brow deepened. “I actually enjoyed myself today.”
“You sound surprised,” Christine said.
“I suppose I am,” he said looking out into the fading light as the street lamps started to switch on. And he was. Despite all the ridiculous injuries, everyone he’d treated had been pleasant. Curious about the new doctor, of course. But kind. And the staff…well, when was the last time he’d felt comfortable and sure that his directions were going to be followed?
Like he’d said before: no machinations. It was refreshing.
“I think I’m a little surprised about everything in this town,” he said almost to himself.
He moved his gaze from the street lights to Christine and she felt her cheeks heat up. Flustered, she looked away and fumbled with the door handle.
“Well. Well, um, have a good night,” she said, “and we’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Chapel,” he said his voice low and warm following her into the car.
“Night, doctor,” Nora said archly.
“Good night, Mrs. Rand,” McCoy said touching two fingers to his brow in a salute.
Christine smiled slightly as she closed the door. Nora pulled away as McCoy walked to his car, Christine watching him as he went.
“I like him,” Nora said.
So do I, Christine thought as she stared at the last of the sun sending streaks of orange and pink into the sky.
The next few days took on a routine that was familiar to the employees at Enterprise Medical and welcome to McCoy. The mornings were taken up by standard appointments with only a handful of walk-ins. Usually only Christine, McCoy, Alice and Nora were needed. The afternoons were filled to the brim with a reduced amount of scheduled appointments that Alice and Dr. M’Benga saw to, while the majority of the walk-ins were handled by McCoy and Christine.
As construction really started to take off, the clinic saw an influx of injuries and McCoy started to consider holding some first aid classes.
“What do you think?” he asked Christine during one lull in the afternoon. She tilted her head to the side in thought and he fought the urge to stare at the slim line her throat.
“I think it would be a good idea,” Christine said. “Especially if we could schedule some in the evenings during the week. I heard from Janice that Jim’s going to want to have some of the projects worked on during the weekends.”
“I hope he’s planning on paying folks overtime,” McCoy said.
“Sulu wouldn’t agree to it otherwise,” she said.
Then a waitress from Pavel’s walked in with a serious gash on her hand from a cheese grater and the conversation was stopped.
An hour later, McCoy was shaking his head as he watched the waitress walk out the door, her boyfriend next to her.
“Accident-prone doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he said. “Has anyone considered checking the water supply? Maybe it’s some kind of epidemic.”
Christine laughed. “If only it were that easy to explain. I think it’s just Enterprise. Some towns have low crime, some towns have high crime. Some have a healthy tourism trade, we have--”
“People who walk into doors and grate their fingers as opposed to cheddar?” he supplied. “Well, everyone needs a hobby, I guess.”
His eyes met hers and the now-familiar warmth spread through her chest down to her abdomen and curled up. Christine looked away and busily started to fill in a chart wondering if developing a crush on another doctor was really the smartest thing for her to do?
“Chapel--” McCoy started to say, his voice low and intimate.
The door to the clinic opened and Mr. and Mrs. Peterson walked in, Mr. Peterson with his arm around the waist of a clearly limping Mrs. Peterson.
“Sweetheart, I’m fine,” Mrs. Peterson was saying. “It’s just a stubbed toe, that’s all.”
McCoy and Christine immediately headed over and McCoy helped Mrs. Peterson to a chair.
“Oh, thank you, doctor,” she said looking at him gratefully. “Daniel is making such a fuss over nothing.”
“Nothing doesn’t swell up and leave you hobbling about,” Mr. Peterson said. He turned to Christine. “She whacked her foot but good on a table in the living room.”
“When did you do this?” McCoy asked.
“Yesterday,” Mrs. Peterson said. “I put ice on it and kept off of it, it’s just not getting any better.”
McCoy met Christine’s eyes, who nodded. They helped Mr. Peterson get Mrs. Peterson into an exam room.
Christine gently slipped Mrs. Peterson’s flip-flop off her foot and pursed her lips at the sight of the swollen big toe.
McCoy looked over her shoulder and said, “I think we may need to do some x-rays, ma’am.”
He prodded at the toe and apologized when Mrs. Peterson winced and made a sound of distress.
“X-rays are definitely in order,” he said. “Chapel, would you?”
“Of course,” she said using the office intercom to get Alice to prep the x-ray machine.
“It’s the silliest thing,” Mrs. Peterson said. “I still can’t believe I walked into that table like that. But, I could have sworn it was further over on the rug. We’ve had the furniture in that room in the same place for years. How could I walk into it like that?”
“These things happen,” Christine reassured her.
“I know, but still.” Mrs. Peterson shook her head.
“It could have been worse,” McCoy said. “Even if it is broken, I’m afraid there’s not much more to do other than keeping your weight off of it until it heals.”
Mrs. Peterson sighed. “I know.”
“Hey, look on the bright side,” McCoy said. “You get to be waited on hand and foot for the next three weeks at the very least.”
She smiled and looked over at her husband. “Hear that? You’re at my beck and call.”
“As if I wasn’t already,” Mr. Peterson said with a smile and kiss to her temple. Christine smiled herself and caught McCoy with a smirk of his own on his face.
“I’ll go check on the machine,” he said. “Chapel, you’ll prep?”
“Of course, doctor,” she said.
He left the room and Christine turned to Mrs. Peterson.
“He’s the new boy, isn’t he?” she asked Christine.
“He is indeed.”
“He seems very pleasant,” Mrs. Peterson said. “And was that a Southern accent I heard?”
“Atlanta,” Christine said pulling a wheelchair over for Mrs. Peterson to get into.
“Oh my.”
“He seems pretty competent,” Mr. Peterson said. “Reminds me of your great-uncle, Christine. What do you think of him?”
“I think we’re lucky to have him,” Christine said. “He’s certainly proven he can keep up with the citizens of Enterprise.”
“Careful, nurse,” McCoy’s voice came from behind her. “You’ll turn my head talking like that.”
Christine bit her lip and felt her cheeks flush as she helped Mrs. Peterson sit down in the wheelchair.
She avoided McCoy’s eyes as she wheeled Mrs. Peterson to the x-ray room, but could feel them on her as she walked past him.
After sending the Petersons home with instructions to stay off the foot and keep it elevated and to take some Tylenol as needed, Christine sat down next to Nora to fill in the chart.
“Margie Peterson hasn’t been clumsy a day in her life,” Nora said. “Imagine walking right into your own coffee table.”
“It does happen, Nora,” Christine said.
“Not to Margie Peterson,” Nora retorted. “Very odd.”
Christine frowned.
“Well, what are your plans for the weekend, my girl?” Nora asked. “Hot date?”
“Oh, of course,” Christine said. “Steamy, in fact.” Nora peered at her over her glasses and Christine clarified, “With a wallpaper steamer. I’m attacking the living room this weekend. I refuse to have that god-awful wallpaper in my house another day.”
“Well, be careful,” Nora said. “And do remember that you’re a young woman with great legs and it’s a sin to let them go to waste.”
Christine chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Nora.”
The door to the clinic opened and Jim Kirk wandered in. “Evening, ladies!”
“Mayor.”
“Jim.”
“Bones around?”
Nora jerked her chin over her shoulder. “In his office.”
“Thank you kindly.” He gave Nora grin and tugged on Christine’s ponytail.
“Jerk.”
“She-Ra.”
He disappeared down the hallway only to return fifteen minutes later with a disgruntled looking McCoy in tow.
“Come on, Bones,” Jim was saying. “Just a few beers with the boys. You have to meet Spock. He’s never had buffalo wings before and I can’t wait to watch what happens.”
“Sounds thrilling,” McCoy said in a deadpan. He looked over at Christine and Nora. “Ladies, do you need me for anything?”
Various images flashed behind Christine’s eyes. All of them involved a sweaty McCoy in some state of disarray. She shook her head a little violently.
“Nope. We’re good. Have fun. See you Monday,” she said briskly.
“O-kay,” he said slowly his brow furrowing. Jim just smirked at her. “If you’re sure?”
“We’re sure, doctor,” Nora said. “Have a nice weekend.”
“You too, Mrs. Rand,” he said. His eyes met Christine’s. “Good night, Chapel.”
“Night!” she replied a little too cheerfully.
Still looking confused, McCoy left, Jim grinning like a fool at her as he followed.
Once they were out of the door, Christine groaned and let her head fall into her hands.
“There, there,” Nora said patting her on the shoulder. “You’re not the first woman to fall apart in front of a man.”
“He’s not in my plan, Nora,” she said her voice muffled by her arms.
“I know, dear,” Nora said. “The best ones never are.”
Christine groaned again.
McCoy followed Jim into Scotty’s and was only slightly surprised by the after work crowd.
Jim waved at Scotty who was already busy behind the bar. “Beer and wings, man! The spicier the better!” Jim shouted at him.
“On it, Mayor, Doctor!” Scotty shouted. “I’ve been experimenting with cayenne and jalapenos today! Say good-bye to your stomach lining!”
Jim laughed while McCoy cringed, caught up in a minor college flashback. How Jim had obtained his tolerance for spicy food, being from both Northern California and Iowa, McCoy did not know. Still, he’d never seen another human being with Jim’s capsaicin tolerance, and that included night-time Food Network chili competitions.
Jim was stopped several times as they walked towards a booth. Most of the time, it was by someone who just wanted to say ‘Hey’ to the mayor while a couple of folks had honest questions that Jim answered sincerely and precisely. McCoy was impressed. Jim was made for this. The fact that he cared for his town was evident by his enthusiasm and concern for everyone. It was good to see his old friend settled into an occupation that seemed to be giving back to him just as much as he was giving to it.
But McCoy noticed something else that gave him pause.
For every five ‘Hey, there, Mayor!’s that Jim was getting, McCoy got at least one ‘Hey, there, Doc!’ He nodded and spotted a few familiar faces, but by and large, he hadn’t laid eyes on half the folks who were greeting him.
They finally made it to the booth. McCoy sat down heavily in his chair.
“Jesus, Jim,” he said. “I’ve been here five days and I know I haven’t treated half the people in this room.”
“Yeah, but you’ve treated their sister or their brother or their aunt or their barber or their teacher,” Jim said. “You’re the town ‘Doc’, Bones. Everyone knows you now.” He grinned. "It doesn't hurt that you’re a stud, too."
McCoy snorted and shook his head looking out over the crowd. “Christ.”
“How does it feel?” Jim asked smiling at the waitress who had just brought over two bottles of Sam Adams.
McCoy took a long pull of his beer before answering. Then he hesitated. Not because he didn’t have an answer, but because the answer was kind of unexpected.
It felt good.
Being in a town where all he had to be was a competent, good practitioner of medicine felt pretty damn good. He wasn’t jockeying for position in a city that he didn’t like, he wasn’t running into memories of his past (both good and bad memories, let’s be honest, here) and he wasn’t having to shake off the shackles of a messy divorce with a bunch of spectators who were just waiting for him to fail.
God, as much as he loved his daughter and missed her like nobody’s business, Atlanta had been agony for him.
Enterprise felt good.
Jim cleared his throat and McCoy looked over at him in surprise. Jim just nodded at the beer bottle McCoy had paused halfway to his mouth while he’d been lost in reverie.
“It feels okay,” McCoy said casually before taking another long drink.
Jim chuckled. “Bones, you are the master of the understatement.”
But he held up his own bottle and McCoy clinked his to it.
“There’s Spock,” Jim said after they each took a drink nodding towards a man who was navigating the crowd with an impassive expression. His dark spectacles seemed to be a natural extension of his very dark hair. He responded to Jim’s cheerful wave with a measured nod.
“Spock, glad you could make it,” Jim said as Spock gingerly slid into the booth next to him. Jim motioned to McCoy. “Let me introduce my good friend, Leonard McCoy, Enterprise’s new doctor.”
“Doctor McCoy,” Spock said with an incline of his head.
McCoy supposed he wasn’t into shaking hands, so he simply said, “Spock. Good to meet you.”
“Yes,” was the reply.
“Do you go by anything other than Spock?” McCoy asked.
Spock cocked his head to the side and said, “I’ve never seen the need to.”
“Right. Of course.” McCoy looked over at Jim who was grinning like a fool.
“Spock is going to help put Enterprise back on the map,” Jim said. “You should see our plans for the downtown.”
“It is a welcome undertaking,” Spock said. “Combining the clean lines of modern architecture with the gaudiness of 1950s Americana poses many challenges that have been stimulating to overcome.”
“I can only imagine,” McCoy said. He frowned. “Jim, if I may, why the hell do you need to renovate Enterprise?”
“For the income, Bones,” Jim said a mien of seriousness coming over him. “Enterprise was always strictly agricultural, but with the changing weather patterns, cheaper sources of product elsewhere, the economy of this area is dryer up faster than you can say ‘credit crunch’. Pretty soon, there will be nothing left. We needed an alternative means of income to the town.”
“Tourism,” Spock said gravely.
“Tourism, indeed,” Jim said with a nod. “It’s a pretty town with some gorgeous landscapes and some great people living here.”
“Not to mention the Kirk Estate,” McCoy said seeing where Jim was going with all this.
“Not to mention the Kirk Estate,” Jim repeated with another nod.
“Enterprise already had the draw,” Spock said, “in the form of Jim and his family legacy. It is simply a matter of altering the town slightly to accommodate an influx of tourists.”
“Are people all right with all this?” McCoy asked.
“Most are,” Jim said with a shrug. “The ones that aren’t well, Janice handles them, to be honest.” His face softened so much that McCoy blinked. “She’s good at that.”
“Here we are, gentlemen,” Scotty’s voice interrupted. He laid a massive basket of wings, carrot and celery sticks on the table complete with a wad of napkins, and another serving of Sam Adams for the three of them. “I call them my Flaming Fiesty Fiery Wings.”
“I bet you do,” McCoy said wondering if he should be impressed or worried by the look of the wings. He settled on both.
“Please do not be offended, Mr. Scott,” Spock said, “if I don’t partake of your dish. Nyota is meeting me shortly and we already have dinner plans.”
“No offense taken,” Scotty said amiably. “If I had a lady as lovely as Miss Uhura joining me for dinner, there isn’t a wing in the world that would delay me.”
Spock inclined his head accepting the compliment.
“That is probably one of the nicest things I’ve heard all week,” a sultry voice said from just behind Scotty. The man turned quickly and smiled brightly.
“Miss Uhura! As always, it is a delight and a pleasure to see you,” Scotty said to the, quite frankly, stunning woman behind him. She was slim with long, dark hair that was held up in a simple ponytail that conveyed elegance while her intricately wrought gold earrings reflected taste and youth.
McCoy reflexively stood up as she approached. She smiled brightly at him. “Oh, my. A gentleman,” she said. “How rare. Mayor Kirk, take note.”
“Bones always outdid me with the manners, Uhura,” Jim said cheerfully. “I’ve given up trying to match him. Bones, this gorgeous woman is Nyota Uhura, the woman who gets all of the ideas out of Spock’s head and into the world. Uhura, this is Leonard McCoy, Enterprise’s new doctor.”
“Ma’am,” McCoy said taking her proffered hand.
“Oh, I’ve been hearing good things about you, doctor,” Uhura said. “I believe you treated one of the men working on the new windows at the museum?”
“If you’re referring to the boy who did a number on his foot with the window pane, then yes, I did,” he said with a grin.
“Thank you,” she said gratefully. “You don’t know how much of a relief it is having someone who can patch us up.”
“It is a great comfort,” Spock said. “The last doctor was…less than pleasant.”
Uhura nodded in agreement as did Scotty and Jim just looked grumpy.
Jesus, McCoy thought. What the hell did this guy do? Jim’s not one to hold onto a grudge like this.
“Ah, should I ask what he did?” McCoy said slowly. “Or am I better off not knowing?”
Jim grimaced. “It’s not exactly my story to tell, Bones. Just trust me, you’re going to be a hundred times better than that guy.”
“I hope to continue to satisfy,” McCoy said slowly really wondering what the hell this other guy did to earn such a reputation. Maybe Chapel would know? He should ask her.
“Now, gentlemen, I hate to drag him away, but…” Uhura turned towards Spock who smiled softly at her in such a way that had McCoy’s eyebrows raising. So that was how to get a reaction out of the man.
“Yes, we must be going,” Spock said as he rose. “Jim, will we see you tomorrow?”
“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away,” Jim said.
“From what?” McCoy had to ask.
“The construction of the drive-in, Bones!” Jim said practically bouncing in his seat. “It took forever to get the planning permission. I can’t wait to see it.”
“Doctor,” Spock said. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” McCoy said dryly. He smiled at Uhura and she gave him a nod. They said their good-byes to Scotty and then headed out. McCoy watched them walk out of the pub, Spock’s hand on her lower back.
“That is one striking couple,” Scotty said with a shake of his head. “And that is one heck of a woman. Speaking of, how is the lovely Miss Chapel?”
He gave McCoy such a look that McCoy wondered if he’d said something incriminating out loud. McCoy frowned and reached for a buffalo wing.
“Fine. Good. She’s a great nurse. Efficient. Very good with the patients,” he rattled off.
“Great legs,” Jim added with a smirk.
McCoy rolled his eyes and took a bite of his buffalo wing. His eyes started to water instantly as the cayenne burned his tongue. “Good God, man! What the hell did you put on these?”
“D’you like ‘em?” Scotty asked bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’m thinking of adding them to the menu.”
McCoy’s answer was to drain the rest of his beer.
Saturday morning saw McCoy waking up rather leisurely and heading out to buy some groceries. Feeling content that he’d managed to find all the usual brands he liked, he drove through the town.
Jim had told him to check out the Town Hall and the new library to get an idea of what Spock and he had been up to.
“Spock really kept the original look but added some little touches that make a real difference,” Jim said.
He was right. The buildings downtown looked traditional with clever archways and accents on the windows. Not that McCoy knew anything about architecture, but he liked what he saw.
Once he got back to his apartment, he put his groceries away, and then wandered through the rather empty apartment.
“I suppose I should think about furniture,” he thought to himself, feeling low all of a sudden. Jocelyn had handled the decorating of their first apartment and then their house. McCoy had been too busy with his residency to really care. He sighed and wondered if the furniture from his parent’s house was still in storage at his uncle’s place. He made a mental note to call the old man and find out. Why bother getting new stuff if he could use what he already had. As he recalled there had been some very handsome pieces of furniture stored away.
He randomly pulled open drawers in the obviously Ikea-produced chest of drawers and blinked when he got to the bottom drawer. A set of nicely pressed men’s sized Oxford shirts rested in the bottom.
“Whoops,” he muttered. “Forget something?”
He thought about just dropping them off at the local Goodwill (after surreptitiously checking the size tag, too small for his frame), then deciding to be a good Samaritan, he called Jim.
“Hey, Bones!” Jim answered his phone, the high-pitched whine of a saw accompanying him.
“Jesus, Jim, you sound like you’re at a construction site,” McCoy said wincing.
“Bones, you’re gonna have to speak up, I’m at a construction site!”
McCoy rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m just calling because I found some clothes that must belong to the previous tenant and thought he might like to have them back.”
“Oh, hell,” Jim said. “I have no idea how to get in touch with that guy.” He paused. “And to be totally honest, I don’t particularly want to.”
“Is that right?” McCoy asked.
“He was a tool, Bones.”
McCoy snorted. “Yeah, what is with that? Everyone seems to have had a problem with him. I thought the official story was that he was offered a better position?”
“Doesn’t mean the guy wasn’t a complete tool,” Jim said. “Ask Christine. She’ll back me up.”
“Really?”
“Actually, you should ask her anyway, if anyone would know how to get the stuff back to him, it’d be her,” he said. A loud crash was heard over the line. “Aw, crap.”
“Do I need to get over there?” McCoy asked, straightening up. “Is anyone hurt?”
“Hey, Sulu! Do we need a doctor?” Jim shouted.
McCoy could hear a muffled answer.
“Okay! Naw, we’re good,” Jim told McCoy. “The only casualty was a stack of plywood.”
“For God’s sake, Jim,” McCoy said. “Please tell me you at least have someone there certified in first aid?”
“I know CPR,” Jim said. “And Janice is around here somewhere and she knows everything.”
McCoy shook his head. “Call me if someone loses a limb or gets impaled by something.”
“Will do!” Jim said cheerfully. “Are you going to call Christine?”
“I might just wait until Monday,” McCoy said.
“Why wait? Just go over,” Jim said. “She’s in the big house on Starling Street. Number 12, Starling Street. It’s the green one. I hear she’s attempting to take down wallpaper and knowing her, she’s overdoing it and is having a huge fight with the steamer.”
“Maybe,” McCoy said reluctantly looking down at the shirts and admitting to himself that he wouldn’t mind seeing what his calm and collected nurse looked like on a weekend. The thought was so attractive, as was the mental image, that he couldn’t be bothered to tell himself to get a grip and stop fantasizing.
“Dooo iiit,” Jim said, drawing the vowels out.
“You are such a child,” McCoy said.
“It keeps me from getting wrinkles,” Jim said. “Now, go over and be She-Ra’s He-Man while I make sure we have a working drive-in by next week. Later, Bones!”
Jim hung up and McCoy made a face at his phone, before slipping it into his pocket.
He glared at the shirts once more before muttering, “Aw, hell with it.” He grabbed the shirts and shoved them into an empty plastic bag, then he headed out the door.
Contrary to Jim Kirk’s predictions, Christine was not actually overdoing it and she was certainly not having a huge fight with the steamer.
The fight had actually occurred earlier with the cord to the steamer when it got wrapped around a chair. This had resulted in much cursing, banging, and a solid kick to both the steamer and the chair, but everyone quickly got over it and moved on.
So, just as McCoy was finding unwanted Oxfords in his drawers, Christine was happily steaming her way across the living room, strips of garish wallpaper falling in her wake. There were stubborn ones – there were always stubborn ones – but a few good yanks quickly changed their minds. Hand wrapped around a slimy piece of garish geraniums, she decided the entire process was more satisfying than it had any right to be.
With her iPod docked in its station and blaring out one of her favorite playlists, Christine steadily bopped her way around the room. She’d had to open several of the windows as the steam was making her flush something fierce and strands of her hair were sticking to the side of her face and neck. As Concrete Blonde started to lament about Joey, Christine rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead and concentrated on a tricky section just above the skirting board.
She set the steamer down and used her fingers to get a small piece of wallpaper off and realized that she was really and truly doing what she’d always wanted to do.
Christine lifted her head and smiled.
She was in the house she’d always wanted to live in.
She had a good job.
She loved her town.
She had good friends.
And there was leftover homemade spaghetti sauce in the refrigerator and one of her favorite songs had just come on.
With a laugh, Christine stood up and ripped a steamed section of wallpaper off the wall. The sound of it coming off was so freaking good, so she did it again to another section.
“Well, love sticks, sweat drips, break the lock if it don’t fit,” Christine sang as she ripped and tugged and whirled and oh, yeah, shook her booty.
The song came to an end and with a “then I set fire to our bed!” she ripped a final section off the wall with a spin and screamed when she caught sight of the tall figure standing in the doorway.
McCoy held up his hands and shouted, “It’s okay! It’s just me! Sorry! Your door was open! Sorry!”
The wallpaper fell to the floor and Christine pressed her sticky hands to her chest. “Jesus Christ, McCoy!”
“I’m sorry, the door was open,” he said. “And I knocked. Loudly.” He looked around the room, taking in the wallpaper strewn about the floor, the steamer still letting out a steady cloud of vapor and the remaining wallpaper on the wall. “You’ve been busy.”
Christine followed his gaze and let out a laugh. “It’s going a bit better than I thought it would.”
McCoy nodded as he walked up to the wall and prodded at a section of wallpaper above Christine’s reach.
“So, uh, what brings you here, doctor?” she asked, tucking strands of hair behind her ears.
“Hmm? Oh. I found these in one of the drawers at my apartment and thought the previous fellow might want them back,” McCoy said handing her the plastic bag with the shirts inside. “Korby, right?”
“Right,” Christine said taking the bag and looking inside. She stared down at the meticulously pressed shirts, knowing that they would be crisp to the touch and smell faintly of the chemical that the dry-cleaners used. Roger had never trusted her to do the washing and had always insisted on using the dry-cleaners on his precious button-downs, something Christine had considered a quirk at first, and later on incredibly pretentious.
Her ‘high’ started to fade as she remembered how she had longed to simply wrinkle his clothes while he pontificated and complained about living in Enterprise. His complaints became more about her than the town while her frustration with him built up.
“Aw, hell,” McCoy said. Christine looked up quickly and met his chagrined expression. “Korby wasn’t just the previous doctor at the clinic, was he?” he asked.
Christine considered lying. But only for a second. “No, he wasn’t,” she said with a sigh and a slump of her shoulders. “He was my fiancé before that.”
“Aw, hell,” McCoy repeated looking uncomfortable.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I mean, it’s not fine, but it’s going to be fine and that’s what’s important. That things eventually become fine.”
“Right,” he said looking at her with a remarkable amount of understanding than her ramble should have inspired. “Jim said the guy was a tool.”
Christine burst out laughing. “Oh, god! Jim hated Roger. And the feeling was quite mutual. Roger just couldn’t adapt to small-town living.”
“So, why did he take the job?” he asked crossing his arms over his chest and looking confused.
“Because, when I told him the job was in California, near San Francisco, and that the mayor was a former actor, he assumed,” Christine made jazz hands, “Hollywood.”
“But, LA’s three hundred miles from here,” McCoy said.
“Three hundred seventy-five,” Christine said. “Anyway, he came, he worked, he hated it.” She sighed looking down at the shirts. “He refused to live in this house, even after I put a down payment on it. He’s a plastic surgeon in the Valley now.”
McCoy frowned. “He refused to live in this house? Why? It’s a great house.”
Christine blinked and smiled at him. “You really think so? It was my great-aunt’s. I’m trying to restore it to how it looked when she owned it.” She looked around the living room at the wallpaper still on the walls. “It’s a slow process.”
“I’ve got some time,” he said. “You want me to get the paper up at the top?”
“I’m perfectly capable of climbing a ladder,” she told him lifting her chin really not wanting him to think she was weak or fishing for assistance. Damn Chapel pride.
“I would never have suggested otherwise,” he said. “But, and I’m being honest here, I really have nothing better to do.”
“Well, heaven forbid you get bored on my watch,” she said not really able to think of a reason to refuse him, but still… “Are you sure though? I mean, you really don’t have to. This is hardly in your contract.”
He chuckled. “No, it’s not. But seriously, I need to have something to do. It’s a matter of my mental health here.”
“Well, in that case,” she said feeling charmed and not really minding, which was something she’d have to think about later. “Get that steamer and head on up that ladder, pronto, doctor.”
“It’s Len,” he said heading towards the steamer. “Or McCoy. ‘Doctor’ makes me think someone’s bleeding nearby.”
“In this town, someone probably is,” she said.
“Yeah,” he said picking up the steamer. “I’m beginning to get that impression.”
His phone rang and making a face, he took it out of his pocket. His expression went from annoyed to soft in a heartbeat. It was weird. Maybe worrisome, depending on how her feelings and hormones shook out, but definitely weird.
“Hey, Jo-jo,” he said into the phone. “How’s my girl?”
He gave Christine an apologetic look and she smiled and waved as he went into the hallway.
Ah. His daughter, she thought. Stop feeling relieved.
As she picked up bits of wallpaper off the floor to go into a trash bag, she could hear tiny snippets of his conversation.
“Well, it’s a big responsibility.”
“You’re an extremely smart girl. Tell the teacher she’s wrong.”
“A whole inch? Not possible. Better put some bricks on your head to stop you growing.”
“I agree. Travis is a very fine name for a dog.”
“We’ll see, Jo. I’ll talk to your mom about it.”
“I miss you, too, baby. But wait ‘til you see the ocean. It’s so big and blue.”
His voice sounded the same as it always did, but with a steady undercurrent of warmth and gentleness that made Christine smile and feel warm herself. Then she realized that she was unabashedly eavesdropping and quickly continued to pick up the room.
After a few more minutes, McCoy came back into the room, tucking his phone into his pocket.
“Sorry about that,” he said.
“No problem. Your daughter?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said going back to the steamer. “She’s eight and already knows everything. She’s growing like a weed and has decided that having a puppy is vital to her existence.”
“Well, they are,” Christine said remembering Rusty the family dog. She’d taken care of him and loved him to his last day at a very respectable age of fourteen.
“Yeah, well I doubt my ex-wife agrees,” he said. “And I’m not sure my apartment takes pets.”
“They don’t,” Christine said flatly shoving more paper into the trash bag. McCoy raised an eyebrow and she shook her head. “Sorry. Reason number twelve why Roger was not the man for me.”
“He doesn’t like dogs?” McCoy asked. “Chapel, you’re obviously a smart women, why the hell did you date the loser?”
Christine opened her mouth to answer and then closed it, looking away.
“Shit,” McCoy said. “I told you I have a very bad concept of boundaries. Too soon to be asking those kinds of questions?”
“A little bit,” she said meeting his eyes, wondering if she’d see disappointment, but instead seeing nothing but implicit understanding.
“Right, too soon,” he said. “However, it isn’t too soon for me to give you a hand with this stuff.” He brandished the steamer. “Where do you want me?”
On your back, spread out naked on my granny’s quilt, her libido promptly supplied.
Christine choked on air and waved off his concerned look as she coughed. “Sorry! Uh, the left-hand corner would be great. Thanks.” She turned away and berated her libido for being such a tart.
“Sure thing,” he said. He headed towards the ladder and then stopped and cocked his head, listening. “Chapel, one question.”
“Uh huh,” she said turning back to him.
“What the hell are we listening to?” he asked.
Christine listened for a second and then said, “Siouxsie Sioux and the Banshees.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“It’s my kickass ladies playlist,” she told him.
“Right.” Setting up the ladder, he asked, “What are the chances there’s any Bonnie Raitt on there?”
Christine smirked and with a saunter, she walked over to her iPod and did a quick scroll. The sultry sound of Bonnie’s slide guitar filled the room. She looked over her shoulder at McCoy who grinned at her.
“I knew it,” he said.
“And if you’re nice, I might just break out the Patsy Cline,” she said.
“You can take the lady out of the south...” he said as he climbed up the ladder.
“I make bread pudding, too,” she said.
“Careful, Chapel,” he said giving her a look. “That’s a dangerous thing to say to a Georgia man.”
She laughed and went back to picking up bits of fallen wallpaper. She snuck a quick look at him as he got the steamer going and took in his determined expression.
Stop ogling the man, Christine and stop flirting with him. Stop it right now! she told herself. I don’t care how great his ass looks in those jeans.
Stop ogling her, man, McCoy told himself as he tore off a bit of wallpaper. I don’t care how amazing her legs look in those jeans. Stop being an unprofessional dick.
“So, exactly how did this godawful wallpaper get here in the first place?” he asked.
“My cousin sold the place to a couple who had rather unique taste in decorating,” she said starting to scrub at the streaks of glue on the wall.
“Hence the lurid hydrangeas?” he asked steadily applying steam to the wall, his bangs dampening and sticking to his forehead, much like the way Chapel’s had already done. He snuck a glance at her and looked away again quickly as the sight of her on all fours was far too freakin’ sexy to be legal.
“I always thought they were geraniums,” she said frowning at the wallpaper. “Either way. Gross and too loud.”
“What are you going to do to the room after you’ve got all this stuff off?” he asked.
“Paint it, I think, something light,” she said. “Uhura has said she can get me a good deal on some nice paint. Oh! Uhura is –“
“The Great Spock’s assistant,” he filled in. “I met her last night. Along with Spock.”
“And dare I ask what you think of him?” she asked with a quirk of her lips.
“I think you probably already know what I think of him,” McCoy said shaking his head. “I drove past the new buildings downtown this morning. They look nice.”
“They do. They really do,” Christine said. “Much better than before.”
They continued to clear the walls of wallpaper with a kind of ease that had McCoy internally reeling with disbelief. He’d never found it easy to just fall into a rhythm with another person. Despite the closeness he had with Jim these days, in the beginning it had been fraught with arguments and McCoy feeling very unsure of boundaries.
What he was feeling currently working alongside Christine was unheard of for him. He felt relaxed and open and, as he snuck another glance at her flushed face and parted lips as she worked more glue off the wall, extremely turned on.
Not that he was going to do anything about it.
Although he sure as hell wanted to. But, clearly she was still reeling from whatever she’d gone through with that other guy and he hated the idea of being her rebound.
Once the paper was stripped and most of the streaks of glue were scrubbed off, they stood at the entrance to the room and looked around. McCoy nodded in appreciation at how much larger and light the room looked now and he switched off the steamer. He turned to face Christine and say something that he immediately forgot when he saw the look on her face.
She looked happy. Unreservedly happy. And so relieved.
“I can’t believe this is mine,” she said quietly, almost to herself.
“You mean the house?” he asked just as quietly not wanting to break whatever spell she was under.
She nodded. “I always loved this house. From when I was a child. I thought it was the most beautiful place in the world.” She sighed. “It’s why I came back here, you know. To Enterprise. The people who bought it from my cousin put it back on the market and I pounced.”
She made a face. “I’m almost positive I paid more for it than I should have. And it’s going to take forever to get all the renovations done on it.”
“Are you doing them all yourself?” he asked concerned.
“Yep.”
“That’s…a big undertaking, Chapel,” he said fighting the urge to smooth the strands of hair off her forehead.
“It’s an expensive one, too,” she said. “Do you know how much it costs for labor alone?” She shook her head. “Nope. The only way I’m going to get this done is if I do it myself.”
“Can I ask you a really personal question?” he asked turning to face her. She blinked at him a little, coming out of her reverie.
“You can ask,” she said hesitantly.
“How did you get up the nerve to do all this?” he asked. “Buying the house, I mean.”
Her lips twisted into a moue of sheepishness. “Honestly? I thought I was getting married.”
McCoy frowned. “Meaning you thought your fiancé would be helping you with the payments and the renovations? But he swanned off, leaving you with everything.”
“Yeah, something like that,” she said sounding dejected as she looked around the room.
“What dick,” McCoy said. She looked at him in surprise. “Your fiancé. Not you,” he added hastily. “Let me guess, Reason Number Two why he wasn’t the man for you?”
She grinned and he felt giddy at the spark in her eyes. “Reason Number Three, actually. Reason Number Two was his irrational dislike of greasy food.”
“Dick,” he said solemnly. “Uncouth dick.”
Christine laughed and he joined her with a chuckle. She turned to walk out of the room. “Speaking of food, I’ve got some leftovers if you’re hungry.”
“One thing you should probably know about me, I’m always hungry,” he said following her down the hall to the kitchen where he blinked at the bright sunlight coming in through the windows and illuminating the clean space.
“Ah, well, good to know,” she said going to the fridge and pulling out a casserole dish. “It’s just baked spaghetti, if that’s okay?”
“That’s great,” he said. He looked down at his hands and grimaced. “Is there a bathroom I can use to clean up?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “You’d better use the one upstairs. The one down here is a bit unstable. Just up the stairs and it’s the first on the left.”
“Thanks.” McCoy headed up the stairs and once he got to the top, he spotted the bathroom. He glanced to the right and absently noticed that it was obviously her bedroom. He looked away quickly. Then froze in his tracks and looked back.
What the hell was Christine Chapel doing with a bed the size of Montana?
Part III
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Date: 2011-10-20 08:14 am (UTC)And this bit:
What he was feeling currently working alongside Christine was unheard of for him. He felt relaxed and open and, as he snuck another glance at her flushed face and parted lips as she worked more glue off the wall, extremely turned on.
Not that he was going to do anything about it.
SO BRILLIANT~ (Yes, I will probably comment in all the parts even tho you posted all at once. It's okay-- you like it. >.>)