Doctor Clause (Doctors of Eastport General)

Chapter Four

Leeona

Tuesdays, for some reason, had the best menu of the week. At least, that seemed to be the general consensus. The cafeteria was packed from eleven in the morning, straight through to after the dinner rush.

Tex-Mex was popular. Besides the nacho bar, there were rice bowls, burritos, taco salad, chili, and a variety of side dishes.

“Here we go, sweetie,” Jordan said, placing two piping hot cups of tea on the table between them. “So, tell me, what’s going on, mama?”

“The calendar is in danger of being cancelled,” she blurted out.

“No!” One hand covered his heart.

“Yes.” Blowing on hot liquid wasn’t cooling it down fast enough. A heaping helping of milk added to the brew. “I know you ordered several.”

“I did,” Jordan replied. “Why is it being cancelled?”

“Officially, it isn’t, yet,” Leeona admitted. “But I only have two days to find a doctor willing to model for the final month. Everyone either isn’t interested, or their partners aren’t willing to let them participate.” She stood, palms slamming down on the table with force. “I need a single, hot doctor immediately!” An entire room of eyes turned in her direction.

“Don’t we all, honey,” Jordan laughed, taking the pressure off of her. “I need one of those, stat, too!” He nodded, whispering, “Sit and relax. Take a few deep breaths. You’ll figure this out. Have a little faith in yourself.”

“Wait! Who is that?” Leeona asked, glaring at a man in a white lab coat strutting through the cafeteria. “Is he a doctor?”

“Yes,” Jordan answered.

“Is he single?”

“I believe so,” Jordan replied.

“He’s perfect!” she exclaimed.

“Oh no, honey,” Jordan said, patting her hand. “You don’t want to ask that doctor to play the role of the December hottie.”

“Why not?” she asked. There was a check in every box, albeit most of the requirements were quite lax. The person needed to be a doctor, male, and hot.

Jordan leaned over the table. “He turns into a Scrooge when the holidays come around. Trust me, mama, he’d never accept.”

“I still need to try,” she said.

“I’m telling you,” Jordan replied, “he’s not going to agree to help. He can be quite harsh with folks who are trying to spread a bit of holiday cheer.”

“I don’t care,” she huffed, standing her ground. “What’s his name and where can I find him?”

“Dr. S. Clause,” Jordan snickered.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nuh-uh.” Jordan flashed a quirky smile. “That’s his name. You can find him in the Oncology department. But I wouldn’t go there, if I were you.”

“Oh, I’m going,” she insisted. “This is fate. Even his name is perfect. That man is going to be my December model, no matter what I need to do to make it happen.”

“His name is the reason you shouldn’t ask,” Jordan said.

“I don’t care,” she insisted. “That man is going to be the calendar’s December doctor.”

Jordan glanced over at the man in question. “At least wait a day or two. He doesn’t seem to be in a very good mood.”

“I don’t have a day, let alone two!” she exclaimed “I’m going.” The tea splashed about in their cups, threatening to spill over the rims. Backs of chairs banged against one another. She was a woman on a mission; one who was able to match that doctor’s strut, footstep for footstep.

If he was in a bad mood, she’d bring him out of it.

If he was being a Scrooge, she’d bring the ghosts of past, present and future.

If he said “no,” she was going to make sure he took it back.

Too bad the elevator doors closed in her face before she had the chance to use all that courage and motivation. The ride up would have been a perfect opportunity to plead her case. Now, the doctor had home-court advantage.