“Well, well. If it isn’t the Broadie Weston. Renowned general surgeon and frequent winner of Richmond Magazine’s Annual Top Docs in Surgery award. I wouldn’t have thought you’d know the way here to the cafeteria. Did someone escort you here?” Jarod snickers.

“Ha ha. I come to the cafeteria.”

“Oh yeah? When’s the last time?”

I actually have to stop and think. But it isn’t because I think I’m too good to come here. It’s just more convenient to run in and grab a coffee or fix something off of the buffet in the doctors’ lounge before heading back to work. Not to mention, I skip a lot of meals in this line of work. “It was about six months ago when I missed lunch because a case ran long.”

“I’m just shitting with you, man. How’ve you been?”

It’s odd, really. Jarod Snow and I have worked together in our surgical practice alongside five other surgeons for years, but we don’t tend to see much of each other unless we’re in a meeting due to our overlapping surgical schedules. “I’m good. Just busy. Finished a scheduled hernia repair. I thought I had an hour before my next case. But the OR called. They have an ER case that’s pressing. Wanted to grab something before I head back in.”

“I don’t know how you do it, Broadie.” Jacob shakes his head.

“What? Your schedule is just as insane.”

“No. It’s not. I turn cases down when it gets too much. I’ve trained people not to come at me for more. But they know you’ll do whatever it takes.”

This statement has me pausing for a moment. He’s probably right. But it’s just the way I’ve always operated. Literally. I never want to keep anyone waiting, and in this line of work, time can be crucial.

“Hi, Dr. Weston,” a young brunette in navy blue scrubs greets from the other side of the salad bar.

Jarod snickers, reaching for a packet of salad dressing.

“Good afternoon,” I answer with a smile as I grab what appears to be a chicken salad sandwich wrapped in cellophane. I have no earthly idea what her name is.

“Hell. I just got back from vacation with the family. I haven’t managed to get my mind back in work mode. I definitely wouldn’t be able to keep up with your pace.”

“Where’d you guys go?”

“Jamaica. It was amazing. But any island is that way for me. Sun, surf, and all the fresh seafood you can eat. I haven’t finished my first full day back, and I’m already trying to figure out how to get back there.” He chuckles.

We head to the refrigerator to grab water when I notice a striking blonde in a long white lab coat standing in line for the cashier. It’s as if I’m unable to turn away. Is she new to St. Luke’s? I’d undoubtedly remember meeting someone who looked like that.

She’s probably about five foot eight and has blonde hair pulled back in a loose bun. Her skin is fair and other than her glossy red lips, she doesn’t appear to be wearing a lot of makeup. She’s holding a plastic container and what seems to be a bottle of lemonade. Her face is expressionless as if she’s lost in thought.

“Who’s that?”

“Who?” Jarod answers, startling me. I hadn’t realized I’d asked it aloud. He follows the trajectory of my gaze. “Poppy?” His voice carries a tone of disbelief about it.

“Who?”

“Poppy. The pharmacist.”

“When did she start working here?” I reach into the glass case for a bottle of water as a chuckle rumbles behind me.

“Are you for real? Probably not long after you. She’s worked here at least eight or nine years.”

I stop dead in my tracks. “No.”

“Yes. Have you been working under a rock?” He shakes his head mockingly. “You’re ridiculous. You are so fixated on your work you’ve probably talked to her a dozen times and didn’t know it. Add to it, you usually have your head buried in your phone… or you’re talking shop to someone. You’ve probably been sitting right next to her in a meeting and didn’t pay any attention.”

Hell, am I that bad?

There’s no way I would’ve been in the same room with that woman and not noticed her. “I usually only get Frank or Marshall when I call the pharmacy. How could I have missed her all of these years? Maybe she only works the evening shift.”

“Yeah. Well, they consider you a pretty big deal around here. There’s probably a sign on the wall over the phone that says to send all of your calls directly to the big dogs.”

“Whatever. I’m not a bigger deal than anyone else.”

“Right.” He nearly chokes on his sip of water. “That’s why the administration is constantly putting on the heat to get you to take the Medical Director position.”

He’s not wrong. But I have worked hard to build a solid practice over the last ten years. I know the key to a successful career is compassion. Some of my partners could stand to go back to residency. A lot more is required of a surgeon than an expensive education and a God complex.

“Hi, Dr. Weston,” a giggly blonde dressed in white scrubs greets.

Unlike the previous nurse who said hello, this young woman’s nametag happens to be facing me. “Hi, Brittany.” Her giggles seem to intensify as I walk past her.

“If this is the way it’s going to be every time you come to the cafeteria, could you warn me before you go next time.”

“Shut up,” I chuckle. Looking ahead as we make our way to the checkout line, I notice a radiant smile overtake Poppy’s face in response to something the cashier has said. Jesus. She’s luminous. Unless she’s recently died her hair blonde, there’s not a doubt in my mind I’ve never seen her before. She outshines everyone else in the room.

It’s at this exact moment the beauty in question looks up at me, and our eyes connect. My breath catches in my throat as her deep blue irises seem to penetrate right through to my soul.

What the f#ck is happening to me?