Marisa Carroll - Family Practice

Zach gave her a long, steady look. “Hey,” he said. “Rudy’s the Marine, not me, but it’s time we apply a little Corps philosophy to the situation.”

“What philosophy would that be?” she asked suspiciously.

“Improvise. Adapt. Overcome,” he said.

“Improvise? Adapt? Overcome? I don’t understand.” She hated how uptight and prissy she sounded, but she was not in the mood for word games.

“We’re improvising like hell right now, right?” He grinned, a very appealing, very handsome grin.

“I suppose we are,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Next we adapt so we can overcome this latest cluster...fluff,” he said, hesitating until he came up with a sufficiently mild substitute for what he’d obviously really wanted to say. “We just got handed Friday off whether we wanted it or not. Do you have plans?”

“My plans were to be here doing what I was hired to do.”

“Now you have room on your calendar to do something else.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Go fishing with me.”

“Absolutely not,” she said. “That’s an absurd suggestion. If we do anything together it will be to discuss which of our patients you’ll be assigning to my care. We have put it off long enough.”

“Why can’t we do that after we’ve gone fishing?”

A little curl of anger stirred inside her. He’d avoided discussing transitioning some of his patients to her, as if he didn’t want to give them up, as if he didn’t think she could hack it. This man was getting on her nerves.

“Stop making light of the situation, Zach. We’d get more done here working in the dark than we would after we’ve been out on the lake in a boat.”

The humor faded from his eyes. “I’m sorry, Dr. Layman. You’re right. It was a bad idea. If you want to talk about the patients, we can do that from home. We don’t need the internet or access to the hospital network. We’ll do it low-tech. I’ll give you thumbnail sketches of our patient roster and you can choose the ones you consider the best fit. Is that acceptable?”

“Yes.” She was ashamed of losing her temper. It was unprofessional. She hated appearing unprofessional. “Yes, I agree that would be a better solution. We should have done it days ago.”

“In a perfect world we would have. This is not a perfect world. I’ll be over at eight.”

“Eight?” She’d hoped she might be able to sleep in for an hour or so in the morning.

“Improvise, adapt, overcome, Dr. Layman. Remember? I still plan on going fishing. So the earlier we get started, the earlier we get done.” He gave her a two-fingered mock salute and strolled off toward his office, leaving Callie without a word to say.

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