His Siren Song

The bright blue skies and vibrant reds, oranges, and golds of the September leaves dancing in the wind do not match my dark mood. The frigid breeze cutting through the otherwise temperate air does, though. Pulling my sweater tighter around me, I trudge across the hospital campus, squinting at signs to figure out where the hell I am supposed to be going. I have always hated starting new jobs. Nothing crushes your self esteem quite like floundering through basic tasks, or walking into a closet when you’re trying to find the bathroom. But, I have made it through worse days, and I will make it through today too.

On the bright side, the hospital campus is made up of gorgeous, historic-looking brick buildings, with lush, green ivy creeping up the walls. Definitely looks expensive. While there is a huge part of me that wants to go running back to my old life, the sane– albeit tiny– part of me that knows this is for the best can at least appreciate that my new place of employment is nice to look at. Even if every part of me is screaming to run back home, where everything is safe, and familiar, and comfortable.

Or used to be. Not anymore.

I shake my head, as if I can physically shake myself out of that dark train of thought. There is no point in dwelling on what used to be. I am determined to give this a real shot. New town, new apartment, new job, new life. I can do this.**

Besides, it could be worse. I could still be with that lying, cheating, abusive piece of–

Nope. Not thinking about him.

I round a corner and the main entrance finally comes into view, complete with towering, vine-covered brick pillars. Halting my steps, I take a moment to take a few calming breaths. Today is just a general orientation. I won’t even be on my unit. I just have to survive a few hours of boredom while someone from HR drones on about dress code and employee benefits. Easy.

The inside of the hospital is just as expensive-looking as the outside. As I pass through the glass doors, I am greeted by white floors that I am convinced are real marble, a waiting area furnished with a plush cream rug and dark green velvet chairs, and a sprawling desk made of mahogany, staffed by an elderly woman whose smile is so genuine that I am convinced she is actually excited to be at work. I approach her, and her already bright smile somehow widens.

“Good morning,” I greet her. “I am looking for the Aspen Conference Room?” The statement comes out sounding more like a question.

“Of course, dear!” She beams at me. “Just follow this main hallway all the way to the end, then you’ll take two rights and a left. There will be signs you can follow after that first right!”

“Thank you so much for your help, ma’am,” I say with all the sincerity I can muster.

“Oh, my! You must not be from around here,” she chuckles. I assume at my accent.

“No, ma’am. I grew up mostly just outside of Savannah. I just moved here a few days ago. Interviewed remotely and everything. I have actually never been this far north,” I grin sheepishly.

“Well, I for one am just thrilled to have you here. Welcome!”

She must be the most genuinely kind person I have ever encountered. I give her one last smile and a small nod, then I start my journey down the seemingly endless main corridor.

I was so nervous about oversleeping and being late for my first day that I jerked myself awake every hour last night, convinced I had somehow slept through the four alarms I had set. Finally, at 4 A.M., I gave up on sleep and got up for the day. Then, I was too anxious to just be sitting around in my apartment, so I left an hour early for my 15 minute drive to work. As I finally make it to the end of what must be the longest hallway in existence, I am glad I left earlier than I meant to because this is a dang hike. Reaching the end, the hallway Ts off and I hang a right. Just like the sweet old lady said there would be, I see signs directing me towards various conference rooms, all of which have tree names. Pine. Maple. Oak. And, finally, Aspen.

Bingo.

Taking one last steadying breath, I pass through the huge, mahogany double doors. I am surprised to see rows of solid wood tables, lined with expensive-looking, high-backed chairs. The orientation at my last job had boasted cheap, plastic chairs, some of which were broken. This is a definite change. Shifting uncomfortably, I smooth down my thrift store blouse. I might not be classy enough to work here. But I’m damn well going to do my best to enjoy it before they figure it out.

I make a beeline for the back row, and settle into a seat at the very end. I can’t stand having any attention on me. At least at the end of the row, I will only have to make small talk with one person, rather than one on each side. Hopefully I can keep my head down, fly under the radar. I scoff to myself at the idea that there is any chance in hell that I will make it through today without enduring one of those god-awful “getting to know you” games.

A fun fact about me? Hmm. I was abandoned as a child and fought my way through the foster system my entire life. No one ever wanted me. I lived in my car through nursing school. And I moved here because my ex-boyfriend almost killed me!

Safe to say I didn’t have a lot of facts about me that would actually be considered “fun.” When– not if– they play their awful introduction game, I will just have to make something up like I always do.

I settle in and try to keep my head down as more and more new employees filter in, filling in the open seats. The seat next to me is still empty three minutes before the orientation is scheduled to begin, and I internally do a little happy dance thinking that I might actually get to sit in peace for the eight-hour meeting. My relief doesn’t last for long, though, as I feel the chair shift away from me, and glance up to see a man looking back down at me. He has short, blonde hair that is perfectly styled, and looks even lighter next to his tanned skin. He is wearing khaki pants, and a crisp, navy button-up shirt that makes his bright blue eyes pop.

“Mind if I sit here?” He shoots me a flirty grin. It doesn’t take a genius to know that this man has more than his fair share of experience with the ladies. Luckily, I have sworn off relationships forever, so I’m immune to his charm.

“Be my guest.” I gesture vaguely to the chair he is already settling into, with a level of confidence I don’t think I could ever attain. He extends his hand towards me.

“I’m Jason,” he tells me.

“Cambree,” I respond with as much friendliness as I can muster, reaching to shake his hand, “but I go by Bree.”

His handshake is warm and firm, but I break it as soon as I possibly can without being rude. I don’t like touching people. I guess growing up without anyone showing you affection will do that to a person. He opens his mouth to say something else, but is cut off when a woman at the front of the room calls for attention. She introduces herself as Katherine, and immediately launches into the agenda for today.

The meeting is every bit as monotonous as I expected it to be, but there’s a certain safety in being bored, and I’m able to tune out most of it. Just before lunch the assigned lunch hour, Katherine comes back up to the front of the room with a smile on her face.

“I know you all are ready for lunch,” she tells us, “but I have a surprise for you all! He normally isn’t able to do this, but our Medical Director has taken time out of his busy schedule to welcome you all to Providence Healthcare.” She extends her arm out to the door to her left, and my eyes follow the gesture to find the most stunningly gorgeous man I have ever seen. “Please welcome Dr. Reed.” She claps her hands, indicating that we should do the same, and we all follow suit.

Dr. Reed waves his hand, signaling that the applause is unnecessary, and it tapers off. He launches into a generic speech about how this hospital is world class, and the employees are all top-tier or some other nonsense. I don’t actually know, because he has the sexiest voice I have ever heard. Deep, strong, and smooth enough to send images of silk sheets and hands grasping headboards skittering through my mind. No one that looks that good should also get to have a voice that sounds like… that. His hair is so dark it is almost black, and thick but well-groomed scruff covers his sharp jaw. His eyes are a light, honey brown, and even from the back of the room I can see they are lined with thick, dark lashes that any woman would kill for.

As if sensing my stare, his eyes cut to me and for a moment his words falter. His gaze locks onto mine, and my heart races as his full attention shifts to me.

And he shoots me a scathing look of pure loathing.