The phone rings at seven o'clock in the evening. I'm twenty seconds away from starting an all-night movie marathon, so I let voicemail do its job. But as a round blue logo fills the screen of my laptop, I start feeling guilty. What if someone was in desperate need of a babysitter? (Yes, I like to feel important.) Plus, I haven't had as many jobs these past couple weeks, so I could use the cash.

I pause the film, wake up my phone, and check the missed calls list. I do a doubletake as I read the number, then rub my eyes vigorously to make sure I'm not dreaming.

I'm not.

There's a message waiting.

I click 'play' and hold the phone up to my ear.

Static fills my ear, which is kinda eerie in a dark room all by myself. Then a scratchy voice speaks up.

It's Rowan.

"Hi! Uhm, I realize this is, like, super short notice, but Mom and Dad are going out tonight and they said to call you. They won't be back until really late. Sooo... why aren't you on your way here yet?"

After almost a month of nothing but video chats, Rowan and I are finally going to be together in person...

I jump to my feet, but have to sink back to the bed when a feeling of lightheadedness washes over me. I take a deep, calming breath before rising slowly to my feet and heading for my Saturn.

The car starts up with an obnoxious grumble; I should probably bring it in for some routine maintenance one of these days.

As I drive, I go over the events that have led to this moment. It all began when Mr. Clifton called me and asked me to watch his two daughters, Rowan and Ruthie. It turned out that the Clifton's had some interesting and unorthodox methods of raising children. A few weeks after that, I picked them up from school and brought them to my house. Sara, my girlfriend, was there. She watched TV with Ruthie, while Rowan and I...

We're together now, I suppose. I broke up with Sara. And speaking of breaking up, so are Mr. and Mrs. Clifton. I actually contributed in a way, by watching the girls' while Mr. Clifton invited his lover into their home. Yikes.

I erase thoughts of the past and sigh as another top forty song blasts from the speakers. I shut it off. Why do radio stations only play current songs, over and over again? Why can't they play songs that used to be popular? Aren't they still good? What's the point in making music if the music always gets replaced by newer music within a few weeks?

(I'm a faux philosopher in the evenings.)

As the distance between Rowan and I diminishes, I begin to wonder why Mr. Clifton himself didn't call me. He had done it the previous two times I'd babysat. I wonder if he's mad at me for dropping the girls off a few minutes early and letting them discover his affair. No, he has only himself to blame for that.

The driveway is empty when I pull up. They must already be gone. Sheesh, the Clifton's are always in a hurry, with everything short notice, no time for details, etcetera.

I hurry to the porch and prepare to ring the bell, but the door is flung open before I get the chance.

"He's here!" Ruthie squeals, jumping from one foot to the other. Her hair is tied in two short pigtails. She's wearing a long-sleeved pink pajama shirt with tiny red hearts decorating it. No pants, just a pair of snug neon yellow panties. Oh, and blue socks.

She notices me sizing her up and grins. She spins, "Like my outfit?"

It looks like a rainbow barfed all over her, to be honest.

"Absolutely," I fully commit. "Sure do. When can I schedule an appointment with your fashion consultant?"

She giggles and runs down the hall, sliding on her socks the last few feet.

"Rowan!" She yells. "Rowan! Jake is-"

Rowan jumps out right in front of her little sister, "Boo!" She grabs her, tickling, laughing.

"Stop it," Ruthie protests. She tries to keep a straight face, but she's laughing, too. "That wasn't scary!"

"It was," Rowan tells her. She lets go and looks up, regarding me with her bottomless eyes. "I bet it scared Jake."

"Terrified. I think I wet myself."

Ruthie cackles, "Ew, that's disgusting!"

"You used to wet the bed," Rowan informs her. "Remember?"

She folds her arms over her chest, "I remember not wetting the bed."

"Whatever," Rowan sticks her tongue out, then beckons me to follow. "C'mon in."

The living room is a sight for sore eyes. Everything is how I remember it: the thick leather couch, the coffee table, and the enormous television.

"It's good to be back," I declare.

Rowan stops in the middle of the room and turns to face me, hand on hip, "What games are we playing tonight?" Her skinny jeans are a dark blue. Her collared shirt is a pure white color, and the sleeves are rolled up to her elbows. There's a fedora perched picturesquely on her head.

"You look ready for bed," I quip.

Ruthie pipes up from the couch, "She wanted to dress up before you got here!"

"Nu-uh!" Rowan shoots back.

"Then why aren't you wearing pajamas?"

"Maybe these are my pajamas!"

"Rowan," I say. "You're wearing a fedora."

Ruthie giggles, "Yeah, Rowan."

I wait for her to quiet before saying, "I love it. But it's not pajamas."

"Fine," Rowan crosses, and then uncrosses, her arms. "I'll go change."

She starts to walk off, then pauses.

"Hey, Jake," she flashes a mischievous grin my way. "Maybe you should help me find 'pajamas', since I obviously have no idea what they are."

God, this night is gonna be fun.

But I can't forget that I'm here on business.

"I'd love to, but-"

"He's gonna stay here with me," Ruthie beams at her sister. "'Cause I'm younger so I need someone to stay with me aaalll the time."

Rowan sighs, but doesn't press the issue.

Ruthie pats the cushion next to her, and I sink down.

"We're gonna watch My Little Pony," Ruthie sentences me to my doom.

"Boy, aren't I lucky that your parents had Rowan call me of all people," I run a hand over my face and moan in pain.

"No, they didn't," Ruthie says quizzically.

"Huh?"

She stares at me, "They just left us on our own tonight."

I frown. Maybe Ruthie didn't hear her parents tell Rowan to call? Or...

Rowan wouldn't invite me over without her parent's permission, would she? That could end badly for both of us.

"Look," Ruthie points at the screen and nudges me.

A tiny purple dragon is flirting with a flamboyantly-dressed white and purple pony. (So this is where Ruthie gets her fashion ideas from!)

"That's just great," I tell her. "But it'll never work out. I mean, he's a dragon. She's a pony. They could never be together."

"They could!" Ruthie insists. "If it's true love...right?" She waits for my verdict.

I consider her statement, then nod. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Love has no boundaries."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. So, what should we do when Rowan gets back?"

"Keep watching this," she answers, quick as a whip.

"Ugh," I reply. "Let's not. How about...soldiers?"

"No."

"Dolls?"

"Nope."

"Hide and seek?"

She doesn't even bother.

Okay, time for my last resort.

I take a deep breath, "Dress up?"

I can't believe it; she's shaking her head! The world must be ending.

"Ruthie, you love dressing up!"

No response.

"You could be a pirate, or a cowgirl, or a doctor, or a-"

She leaps to her feet, "Yes!"

I stop, "Dress up?"

"No," she shouts, "Doctor! We're gonna play doctor!"

I wonder what I've gotten myself into. "Doctor, huh?"

"Yeah!" She grabs my hand, "Let's go!"

"Hold it," I pull my hand away.

She squints up at me, "Don't you know how to play? It's easy. Don't worry, I'll teach you!"

I try not to laugh, "It's not that. I think I get the gist of it. But aren't we waiting for your sister?"

"No," she says it like it should be obvious. "Besides," she grabs me again and I allow myself to be dragged off the couch, "we have to play it upstairs in the playroom."

"Why?"

"That's where all the doctor stuff is."

We bid the ponies goodbye and make our way up the carpeted flight of stairs.

"Hey Ruthie?"

"What?"

"Do you-" I stop. "Do you guys play 'doctor' a lot?"

She shrugs and keeps going, "Just sometimes."

But what I had started to ask was something much more serious. Does Ruthie know about her parents' impending divorce? I'm so glad I caught myself; I sure as hell didn't want to be the one who explained it to her.

Come to think of it, how does someone explain the concept of divorce to a child? Ruthie's probably never heard of terms like custody, litigation, or annulment.

We pass Rowan's closed door. Geeze, how long does it take to change into pajamas? Girls are weird.

"Okay," Ruthie says as we enter the playroom. "I'll get the supplies, nurse Jake."

"Yeah, oka-wait a minute, 'nurse' Jake?"

"Mhmm!" she dashes across the large room to a closet on the far side. She opens the closet, and after a brief look, calls, "Actually, you carry it! It's kinda heavy."

I hurry over. She indicates a medium-sized gray tub and I lift it. It isn't that heavy.

"Over here," she says. She leads me over to the couch (in the former Judging area) and tells me to set it down.

"This is the doctor's office," she declares.

"Perfect," I sigh, "if only we had a patient."

She faces me, and I'm not sure I like the look in her eye.

I walk over to the couch. "I'll just sit here until Rowan comes."

"Oh no," she wags a finger at me. "Only patients sit there." She walks over, grins at me, and hops up. "And I'm the first patient."

"No fair."

"It is fair. You're the babysitter, so you have to let me go first," she explains. "Being a patient is the best part. You can go next, 'kay?"

"I don't know about that, either."

"Just do it," she sighs, then clears her throat. "Hello!"

"Uhm, hi?"

"I'm Samantha Parker," she says in a surprisingly-decent British accent. "I have an appointment with Doctor Jones."

"That's me," I confess after a short pause. During the pause I hear footsteps running down the stairs; Rowan doesn't know we've relocated.

"I'm just here for a checkup today," Ruthie, er, Samantha Parker tells me.

"Good to hear," I reply.

"I believe your tools are in there, doctor," she motions to the unopened tub.

"Yes," I agree. "Yes they are."

I kneel down and pull off the lid. There isn't as much as I expected, just a white coat, a tiny plastic briefcase, and a hand-drawn sign that says, 'Doctor's Office'.

"So," I say as I pull the coat on. "How did you find my office since this sign wasn't up yet?"

"I let my chauffeur drive me," she says, acting aloof.

This coat is way too small for me. I decide to drape it around my shoulders like a cape.

She tries not to laugh, but can't help saying, "Are you a superhero, too?"

"Superheroes save the world," I shoot her an indignant look. "I save lives. Now, Miss Parker, what can I do for you today?"

"I already told you," she sniffs disdainfully. "I am here for a checkup."

"Are you sick?"

"No. I am perfectly healthy."

"Then why-"

"Jake!" Ruthie pleads.

"What?" I raise my arms in defense. "How can I treat a patient who's in perfect health?"

She looks pityingly at me, "You're the doctor; it's your job to find out what's wrong. The patients always think they're healthy!"

I dip my head, "Sorry."

"I forgive you," she says with a sickening amount of self-righteousness.

Now I'm less sorry, but still ready to cooperate nonetheless. I lift my head and become Doctor Jones again.

"Let's see here," I walk over to the couch and get down on my knees.

She lies on her back and folds her hands across her stomach.

I open up the briefcase and find several pieces of cheap plastic medical equipment. There's a stethoscope, a knee knocker thing to test reflexes, a blood-pressure cuff, and a giant plastic needle.

"Hmm," I take out the needle. "We'll start with-"

"Oh, Doctor, I'm allergic to pain," she grimaces.

"This won't hurt a bit, I promise." I lean toward her, needle in hand. "Well, maybe a little. But it'll be worth-"

"Start with that, Doctor," she instructs, pointing at the stethoscope around my neck.

I sigh, "Who's the Doctor here?"

She flips a hand in the air casually, "I'm not sure there is one."

"Madame!" I'm outraged, "You would dare question the qualifications of Doctor Jones? Why, I'm an esteemed man; all the celebrities come to me when they get sick."

She's looking at me as if to ask, 'why are you taking the fun out of this?', so I decide just to get it over with.

I hold the end of the stethoscope and place it over where I think her heart is, "Alright, stay calm Miss Parker. I'm just making sure you have a heart."

"Of course I do!"

"Then I'm making sure it's not frozen."

I hold it to her chest and start to listen.

"Wait," she exclaims, sitting up and almost knocking me over. "You can't hear it with my shirt on, silly. You have to tell me to undress first."

"What?" Rowan's mock-angry voice comes from behind me. I turn and see her standing, hands on hips. "Playing 'doctor' without me?"

"I forgot to bring Candyland," I apologize.

"I wouldn't have let you in if you remembered," she says.

"Ruthie let me in," I say. "And aren't you the Candyland sensei?" She's changed into a pair of tight boxer shorts and a black and white polka-dotted pajama top. Barefeet with toenails painted a light shade of green.

"Just because I beat you doesn't mean I liked it," she grins. "It was like a bird eating a worm. I need more of a challenge."

"First of all, gross. And second, no one has ever beat me in Candyland until you did."

"For real?"

"Yes. Now, please wait your turn, ma'am. Doctor Jones is currently with another patient."

"She's not another patient," Ruthie pipes up. "She can be your nurse."

"I need all the help I can get," I breath a sigh of relief. "Glad to have you onboard, Nurse..."

"Genevieve," Rowan says. "But you can call me 'Gen', Doctor."

"Nurse Gen, please take Miss Parker's heartbeat reading."

"Right away," she says. I scoot to the side and hand her the stethoscope. "Shirt off," she tells the patient.

"I know," says the patient, her voice muffled by the shirt she's already stripping off.

"What symptoms is she exhibiting, Doctor?" my nurse asks.

"Nada," I say. "She's just here for a checkup."

"Ohhh," Nurse Gen says. "Wonderful. She can get all caught-up on her shots and vaccinations!"

Miss Parker starts to look pale. She hands her shirt to the Nurse, who hands it to me.

"Hang this somewhere," she tells me. I drape it over the arm of the armchair a few feet away.

Ruthie is lying down now, naked save for the yellow panties. Rowan looms over her with the stethoscope.

"This is gonna feel cold," she tells her patient with a wicked twinkle in her eyes. Then she sets the end of the stethoscope on Ruthie's small chest.

Ruthie lets out a little shriek and brings her hands up, squeezing them together, shielding her bare nipples.

"Quit exaggerating," Rowan says. She listens for a few moments to the stethoscope, then turns to me with a serious expression.

"I'm afraid she's going to need an operation, Doctor."

I gulp, "What kind of an operation?"

"Dunno yet," she replies, turning back to the couch. "Let me do a few more tests first." She lets the stethoscope fall, "Turn over, patient."

Ruthie obliges, giving us a view of her bare spine and cloth-covered buttocks. Rowan begins running her fingers lightly over her sister's back.

"That feels good," Ruthie murmurs into the couch cushion.

"We're checking to see if you have any abnormal growths," Rowan announces. She looks to me, "You too, Doctor."

"Right," I agree, running a hand over Ruthie's back. It's warm and smooth...like a normal back, I guess?

Ruthie turns her head to the side so she can talk, "Lower."

Rowan and I start rubbing a little lower, in the small dip between her back and her butt. My forearm brushes Ruthie's buttcheek, but she doesn't say anything. Rowan moves her fingers gently over her sister's skin. Suddenly our hands brush together. We look at each other and smile.

"Well?" comes the patient's slightly-alarmed voice. "Am I sick?"

I look at Rowan. She knows the game better than I do.

After a pause for effect, she declares, "Nope! Congratulations, you don't need surgery after all!"

Ruthie sits up, cross-legged, "Maybe you should do a few more tests."

"Sorry," Rowan says. "Your turn is over."

Ruthie doesn't argue too much. She slides off the couch and into my arms, "Now Jake gets to be the patient!"

"I don't think so," I protest, handing her the shirt.

"Pleeease," Ruthie begs. "It's really fun."

"No, I think Rowan should go next," I tell her.

Ruthie turns to her older sister, who's searching through the medical box. She looks up and raises an eyebrow at me.

"I have been feeling a little light-headed lately," she says.

"Yeah," I agree, "you should probably get that checked out."

She climbs onto the couch and rests her head against the back cushions, legs crisscrossed.

Ruthie snatches the Doctor's coat from around my neck and puts it on instead of her shirt.

"Tell us more, Miss Rowan," I stroke my chin.

"Well," she begins, coclking her head, "it only happens around a certain person."

"And who might that be?"

Ruthie breaks in, "Why are you guys so boring tonight? Stop talking and play!" She points a finger accusingly in my face.

"Fine, fine," I say, taking her hand and shaking it. "I'm Doctor Jake."

"You mean Doctor 'Jones'?"

"Nope. He got fired. I'm new. You must be Nurse Ruthie."

"No, I'm Nurse Jenny."

"Ah, Nurse Jenny Ruthie. Strange."

"It's just Jenny!"

We begin the examination. Ruthie stands beside the couch while I kneel. We're the same height.

"We should check her head," I tell my nurse, "since she's experiencing lightheadedness."

"I'm not an idiot," my nurse shoots back sarcastically. "I know the drill,"

"Drill?" the patient asks, dismayed.

"Not yet," Nurse Jenny Ruthie replies reassuringly. "Now take your clothes off."

"She doesn't need to take them off for us to examine her head," I tell Ruthie.

"But if you insist," Rowan says, reaching for the bottom of her shirt.

"I'm not sure that's a-"

Her top is hung over the back of the couch before I finish. She lays down on the couch.

I pretend not to stare as Ruthie reaches down and touches her forehead.

Where Ruthie had nothing but tiny nipples, Rowan has two swelling bumps. She reaches up and runs a hand across one of them casually. I think she knows I'm staring.

"Doctor," she speaks up. "Shouldn't you be the one examining me, not your nurse?"

"Well," I stammer, "I-"

"Of course not," Ruthie taps her sister's forehead with a fingernail. "The nurse does the exam and the doctor does the surgery."

"I think I need surgery."

"We'll see," Ruthie tells her. Then, to me, "Hand me this thingie." She makes a whack-ing motion with her hand.

"Good thing she signed a waiver," I joke, handing the knee knocker to my faintly-aggressive nurse.

"Oh no," Rowan groans.

"Oh yes!" Ruthie cackles, raising the reflex checker.

I wince as Ruthie brings it down against Rowan's forehead. At the last second, she slows, but it still looks painful.

"Ouch," says Rowan. "Take it easy."

My nurse titters and prepares another strike.

"Feeling better yet?" I ask, trying to keep my eyes on Rowan's eyes, not her blossoming chest.

"No pain no gain," she grunts as she prepares for impact.

After a few more collisions, I get handed the medical weapon.

"Your turn," Ruthie says.

I inch forward, "Alriiight, let's see here." I lower the plastic tool and poke her belly button.

All three of us snicker.

"Seems normal," I say. Ruthie stands by, watching approvingly.

I raise it. Up to her chest, then her neck, then her nose. I stop. Rowan squeezes her eyes shut. Tap.

"Ow."

"Normal nose, wouldn't you agree Nurse?"

"Mhmm," says the nurse, taking my hand and leading me back down the patient's body. "Check here." She lets go of my hand.

I look at Rowan, who's looking at my hand.

I let it sink down until it touches the boxer shorts.

I run it down the middle slowly.

Rowan takes in a breath.

I reach the end and lift it away.

"Well?" Ruthie asks.

"Hang on," I tell her. "Gotta check a few more things."

I tap lightly on the waistband and look at the patient, "How does that feel?"

"Fine," she responds.

I tap where I think the beginning of her sex is, "And that?"

"Good."

I tap right in the middle, a little harder.

"How about that?" Nurse Ruthie asks for me.

Rowan nods, "Okay."

"Great," I say. "One last test."

I move it down to her knee. Tap.

Rowan cries out; I glance up, unnerved. Did I hurt her?

"That did it," she cries. "I definitely need surgery now."

"Nice job," Nurse Ruthie pats me on the back.

"Thanks?"

"You get the surgery set up while I prepare the patient," Ruthie tells me. She helps Rowan sit up.

"Sounds like a plan." I fiddle around in the toolbox, wondering what kind of surgery they expect me to perform. I grab the needle and the blood pressure cuff and set them both aside.

"Everythings gonna be fine," Nurse Ruthie is telling our client. "I'll be keeping you calm and relaxed while the Doctor does his work. It'll feel good, promise." She looks at me, "Ready, Doctor?"

"Almost," I respond.

She looks back at the patient, then comes over to me and whispers, "I'm gonna get a snack real quick; be right back!"

She races from the room.

"I think your nurse went crazy," Rowan comments from the couch.

"She'll be back," I say, standing.

"But for now it's just us," Rowan says, standing.

Three seconds later and we're in each other's arms, kissing. Her puffy chest presses tightly against me. She takes my hand, moves it down between her legs.

I pull away and catch my breath, "We should probably stop; she'll be back any minute."

We barely have time to return to our places before the door is thrown open. My nurse has returned.

"Speak of the devil," Rowan mutters.

"Get enough to eat?" I ask as she walks over.

She nods, "A cheese stick. And a cup of pudding."

"Healthy," Rowan says from her place on the couch.

"Whaddya expect," I shrug. "She's a nurse, not a nutritionist."

"What's a 'nutritionist'?" questions my nurse.

"Not important," I say. "We've got an urgent surgery to perform!"

"Right!" Ruthie declares, hopping up next to Rowan.

I pick up the blood pressure cuff and look it over. I've decided this will be the main instrument in this operation.

"It's time," I report, kneeling in front of Rowan's knee. I glance up at Ruthie, who's wedged herself in-between Rowan and the back of the couch. She gives me a thumbs-up.

"Is this gonna be painful?" the patient bites her lip.

"Not if everything goes according to plan."

"I'm starting the calming procedure," Nurse Ruthie says. She begins rubbing her sister's arm with her fingernails, gently.

"Initiating step one," I say, and wrap the cuff around Rowan's knee.

She smirks, "Sounds like you're preparing to launch a spacecraft."

"Not today," I tell her as I buckle the elastic. "That's tomorrow, on my day off."

I rest my hand on the knee while taking the pump in my other hand. "Step two is go." The cuff tightens around her kneecap as I begin to squeeze the pump.

"Moving to step two of relaxation," Ruthie tells Rowan. She starts rubbing her sister's stomach.

"This is weird," Rowan states. "And it tickles!" She's trying hard not to laugh as my nurse's fingers dance over her tummy.

"Step two complete," I say. "I'm beginning the final piece of the procedure!"

I reach for the needle.

Both girls gasp as I hold it up to the light.

"It's gonna be okay," Ruthie assures the patient. "I'll start the final phase of the calming formula." With that, she moves her fingers down from Rowan's bare stomach to her boxers. I stare, open-mouthed, as Ruthie starts rubbing across the thin fabric.

Rowan looks surprised, but doesn't stop it.

I gulp, "I've gotta do this just right, or you'll be crippled for the rest of your life..."

"Maybe I should've been told about this before starting the operation," the patient points out.

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty," I say, and stick the plastic needle against the inside of her thigh.

Ruthie gasps and increases the speed of her fingers as the needle hits skin.

Rowan's head tilts back; I can't tell if she's faking the pain or just enjoying the relaxation treatment.

I hold the needle still for about ten seconds, watching my nurse's methods.

Finally, I lift the needle and deflate the blood pressure cuff. Ruthie's hands keep moving as she watches me for signs of success.

"It worked!" I cry. "The operation is complete!"

My nurse throws both hands up in the air and lets out a whoop of celebration.

Rowan groans and raises her head, "Am I dead?"

"Doctor Jake saved you!" Ruthie says, jumping up and down on the couch. "With my help."

"It wouldn't have been possible without you," I tell her. "I'm sure a large part of the success was due to your genius methods of sedation."

I wink at Rowan, who stares back at me with her big brown eyes.

She sits up and reaches for her shirt, "Now it's my turn to be the Doctor." She slides back into the pajama top, then pokes me in the chest, "And you're the patient."

I put up my hands in surrender, "I guess it's only fair."

"Okay," Ruthie says, content with being the nurse once more. "Sit down on the couch, er, the exam table. I'll be back to begin the check-up shortly, sir."

I slide onto the couch and watch as the girls get themselves in order. Ruthie hands the white coat to Rowan, leaving herself shirtless. Rowan hands it back to her and says she can keep it for now.

A few more tools switch hands, and then the nurse stands in front of me.

"Welcome to the clinic," she says. "Lay down so I can listen to your heartbeat. Oh, and take your shirt off."

I follow her orders. She takes the t-shirt and throws it over the back of the couch. The end of the stethoscope is cold on my skin. She hovers over me, listening.

"Good," she says, removing it. "That checks out. Now for the pain test."

I grin as I realize she's talking about the reflex tester. Then I remember how she handled Rowan's reflex test. My grin is gone.

Rowan's sitting a few feet away, observing.

"This won't hurt too much," the nurse lets me know. Then she hits me in the shoulder.

"You've got quite the arm muscles," I manage to say before she strikes again, this time on my lower stomach.

"Lower," the Doctor instructs her underling.

"Wait a minute," I start to say, but there's no stopping it.

I almost curse, but stop myself just in time. The pain is intense.

Rowan is cracking up.

Ruthie just smiles, "Okay, the Doctor will see you now."

After the Doctor stops laughing (and I stop crying), she takes Ruthie's place, kneeling beside the couch and speaking gently.

"Hi there," she says. "What's the reason for your visit tonight?"

"To be honest, I just wanted to get out of the house and meet some pretty female doctors," I explain.

"And how's that working out for you?"

I think a moment, "So far so good."

A toothy smile breaks across her gorgeous face, "Yep, he needs surgery. A very special surgery. You'll have to be transferred to a different location."

"Really?" I question.

"Really?" Ruthie echoes.

"I'm afraid so," Doctor Rowan nods gravely. "We aren't equipped to handle it here." She turns to her nurse, "Help me get the patient up."

Together, they pull me off the couch.

"Bring him this way," Rowan says, heading for the door.

"You heard her," Ruthie barks, pushing me after Rowan.

"Hey, what is this place," I complain. "A hospital or a prison?"

"It's a hospital," Ruthie insists. "With cells. And a barbed-wire fence. And guard dogs."

"Hmm." I sigh, "It was the only place that would accept my insurance."

I can't help but watch Rowan's backside as we move through the hall. The dark brown hair, the tight boxer shorts, the bare legs. Adorable! I do love her.

She stops outside the door to her room, "Inside!"

"Well, okay," Nurse Ruthie opens the door and pushes me through.

She's about to follow me in when Rowan bars her way.

"Only doctors and patients are allowed in here," she says.

"What?" Ruthie's outraged. "But I work here!"

"This is an unusual surgery," Rowan explains. "The environment needs to be as sterile as possible, so only me and the patient can go in. Sorry."

Ruthie purses her lips and stomps her foot. Standing in the middle of the room, I turn back, about to say something.

"Please?" Rowan drops the doctor act.

"Fine," Ruthie relents. "But be quick! I can't stay by myself for very long."

"Alright," Rowan's voice is getting antsy. "Nurse, you stay in the office in case another patient arrives. Do some paperwork or something." She starts to close the door, "Don't disturb us; this surgery could get dangerous."

We hear Ruthie's angry feet stomping away.

"Uh-oh," I say.

Rowan turns to me, a concerned look on her face, "What?"

"My mom always told me never to be alone with sexual predators."

She's surprised, but only for a moment. "Smart woman," she says, leading me over to her bed. "You should listen to her next time."

"Wow," I can't help but laugh.

She whinces, "Okay, that sounded weird. Sorry."

We sit and she raises her right hand, looking very official despite her lack of clothing. "As a doctor, I have sworn an oath to protect my patients, not sexually assault them."

"I'm very glad I chose this hospital. Even with that overzealous nurse."

Her hand comes to rest on my thigh.

"We don't have much time," she says softly.

"Then let's get zealous."

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