The Doctor's Cinderella. Susanne Hampton
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about Ryan was impeccable. She assumed his designer underwear would match his socks too. Black and more than likely the finest imported woven silk...
She stopped mid-thought and shook herself mentally. What had got into her? And why on earth was she even thinking about her employer’s underwear? It had to have been the knock to her head. Or perhaps being celibate for a year was affecting her reasoning, she decided. But it hadn’t until that moment. The need to have a man in her life was below the need to match the colour of the bin liner to the trash can. Of no importance and not worth a second thought. And a man like Dr McFetridge was not on her wish list; no man was.
Perhaps it was the significance of the day that was making her react. That had to be it, she told herself, and the next day would be different. She wouldn’t be having the melancholy thoughts and she wouldn’t give her boss even a second thought.
But she begrudgingly admitted to herself that she did like his cologne. The fresh woody fragrance was still lingering. Fragrance had not been her priority that morning. She was lucky to get close to soap and nothing about her lingerie matched. Molly’s stomach dropped and she moved in her seat to confirm in her rush she had remembered underwear. She breathed a sigh of relief when she could feel the elastic of her knickers. Thankfully she had grabbed one of the three pairs pegged to a coat hanger to dry over the bath the night before. She cringed momentarily.
If they had not been hanging in her line of sight would she be wearing any?
Just as quickly yet another unsettling thought swept into her mind. She pushed it aside. They were on and she didn’t need to dwell on what might or might not have been. It had been a ridiculously rushed start to her first day but with a smidgen of Irish luck, from her father’s side, she had made it with five minutes to spare. Although after seeing the consulting rooms she wondered just how long he would keep her on staff. It was only too obvious to Molly that appearance certainly counted with him. His dress sense, his rooms, all of it was immaculate.
And she was not. Well, not at that time. She had previously dressed well and taken pride in her hair and make-up, but equal amounts of money and sleep deprivation meant both had gone to pot. And nothing much about that was going to change overnight. But she was clean and efficient. Like the pitch to sell a small imported car, she thought.
Her mind was jumbled and she had to stay focussed. It couldn’t be that difficult. He was just another tall, dark, good-looking man and she was not interested in men, tall, short, dark or fair; she was not interested in being used and lied to again. And stripped of her faith in humanity...and her worldly possessions...in one fell swoop.
She opened her eyes just as quickly and, looking around at everything, she was reminded that, while she no doubt looked out of place in Ryan McFetridge’s practice, her skills should ensure she stayed put as long as possible and enable her to meet the rent and avoid Joel’s advances.
Despite her decision not to bite back too fiercely, Molly could not roll over and let another man think his looks would allow him to act in a way that was just wrong in her book. While it was only her shoes, she had to put a line in the sand and retain a little dignity. She had made it to work on time and he had no idea what she had been through to get there. So what if her shoes didn’t match? As if it mattered in the scheme of things—her feet were hidden behind the desk and it didn’t make her less competent, she reminded herself, all the while feeling quite ridiculous and uncomfortably exposed. Although she did not truly feel the level of bravado she was trying to exude, she would do her best to let her temporary employer know where she stood.
Twenty minutes later, Lizzy and Ryan reappeared. He placed the notes on the reception desk, and Molly couldn’t help but notice he patted the dog-eared records almost affectionately. She was even more confused.
‘I’ll need you to make another time for Lizzy in four weeks with Dr Slattery. His details are on the notes here. And can you make it a time that I can attend with her so block out ninety minutes in my calendar too, please, Molly, to allow for my travel time.’
‘Certainly,’ Molly replied, then, wondering why Ryan would be accompanying his patient to see another medico, added, ‘Is this for a second opinion?’
‘No, it’s not a second opinion. Lizzy is Dr Slattery’s patient.’
‘Okay, I’ll call his rooms and make that time now.’
Molly didn’t quite understand but decided not to question him further. However, she did need to address something. His remarks about her shoes were playing on her mind. She wanted to be clear in what she would tolerate and what she wouldn’t and wanted to address it before Ryan disappeared back into his room.
‘I’ll make the time right away, then after that I could take a lunch break, go home and collect matching shoes if you think they’re an issue.’ Molly’s tone was not confronting but it was firm and resolute. She was respectful of Lizzy’s presence and aware she was witnessing everything.
There was silence for a moment. Molly watched as Ryan’s eyebrow raised but she quickly sensed amusement rather than annoyance in his expression. It was almost as if his eyes were saying ‘bravo to you’ but his lips hadn’t moved, not even twitched.
She was incredibly confused and that had not happened to her in a very long time. For the last year she had felt confident that she could size up a man quickly. There were two categories: not to be trusted and those over sixty-five.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ he told her. ‘You look perfectly fine just as you are.’
Molly was taken aback by his response but didn’t have time to say anything as he continued.
‘Lizzy, I don’t think you’ve met Molly. She’s my new office manager and she’ll be here for the next month. You’ll see her whenever you call in to visit me.’ Ryan paused again for a moment, his eyes darting between the two women, as if deep in thought. Then he continued, ‘Molly, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Elizabeth, who prefers to be called Lizzy, and the aforementioned red shoes are her favourite.’
Molly almost fell off her seat. She had not seen that coming at all. Dr McPerfect had a teenage daughter. She suddenly understood why Ryan wanted to attend her appointment with her general practitioner and why Lizzy wasn’t on the record management system. Lizzy was his daughter, not his patient, despite having a different surname. And if Molly had heard correctly, he wanted her to stay on for the length of the assignment. He apparently wasn’t about to fire her for rushing in at the last minute looking as if she had been plucked from a downpipe.
Ryan was not the man she had imagined at all.
Watching the way Ryan walked from behind the reception desk and over to Lizzy, putting his arm around her in such a loving way, made Molly’s heart soften just a little. Suddenly Molly saw him as just Lizzy’s father, although he didn’t look old enough to have a daughter Lizzy’s age. She felt her heart almost skip a beat. There was something in the way his dark eyes smiled as he pulled his daughter protectively to him that to her surprise took Molly’s breath away. It was an unconditional love he had for her. And she knew that feeling so very well. It was exactly how she felt when Tommy gave her a hug goodnight. And it was the feeling that kept her going when everything else in her life was turning to mud.
Molly had thought she had men safely locked away. They were not to be trusted. Period. Suddenly Ryan was testing her bias. Suddenly she realised that she had been the one casting judgement on her boss because she was afraid of being judged. Dr McFetridge was keeping her on staff even though she had assumed she did not fit his vision of perfect. Perhaps it was her idea of what perfect should look like that was skewing her outlook. Everything about the previous five minutes had taken her aback. She had been the one guilty of assuming the book was the total of the cover.
Molly was quickly being forced to accept that perhaps there might actually be more to Dr McFetridge than handsome packaging.