I looked at Erik and then at Mr. March and didn’t open my mouth to respond. My tongue piercing had been a fun little excursion when I went to Vegas for my twenty-first birthday. I had been so drunk that I almost married a complete stranger, and only by vomiting on the man had I been saved from that horrible mistake. The next morning, I woke up with my tongue pierced. I could have taken it out and my hole would have healed, but I liked keeping it as a reminder of my past and all the changes I had made.
“Let’s go look at the pool area,” Mr. March said in an effort to distract the new patient. “We have a spectacular pool, hot tub, and sauna. All visits need to be with staff for your safety,” he continued as he guided the man out of the kitchen.
“Clit, nipples, tongue; which is it?” Erik boldly asked just before turning the corner and grinning at me while he waited for my response.
“What?” I said in total shock.
“Where’s your piercing?”
I burst into laughter at his bold question. Erik was a handsome man with a bit of an attitude, but everyone had an attitude when they arrived at our facility. His smile would certainly stick in my mind for the rest of that evening, though. His half wink and brilliant white teeth mesmerized me and gave me a shot of adrenaline. For a man with such an attitude, he sure did seem to be flirting with me.
“Let’s go,” Mr. March said without giving me time to answer.
Mr. March put his hand on Erik’s elbow and guided him out of the room and toward the pool area. Luckily for me, I didn’t have to answer his question. The tour of our facility was quite impressive and Mr. March was a pro at it. He showed guests the workout room, the pool, the spa; he walked new patients around the grounds and looked up at the mountains. Our treatment center was more like a resort than a hospital and that was exactly why we got the rich and famous to send their loved ones to us.
“That one looks like trouble,” Alexander said from behind me.
“Yeah, I bet he won’t last a week. Probably one of those rich, spoiled kids.”
“I think he’s that guy from Slap 142, that rock band?”
“I don’t know. But he’s not very friendly, and he’s a vegetarian. Or wait, was it vegan? Crap, I don’t remember.”
“I’ll give him a bacon omelet tomorrow and we can find out.” Alexander laughed. “Is it horrible that I enjoy a bacon freak out so much?”
“No, don’t do that,” I begged. “At least I’m not working tomorrow; I won’t have to deal with that disaster. Speaking of disasters, Brad would like to know what the chicken’s stuffed with. He’s not going to eat it unless he knows.”
“Tell him it’s stuffed with my soul,” Alexander joked. “Or mozzarella, whichever sounds more appropriate.”
Poor Alexander had been stuck working at Paradise Peak for the last six months. He was an internationally-acclaimed chef who had run his own restaurant in Paris for two years before he got caught with drug paraphernalia on a trip to Miami. Luckily, his lawyer had brokered a plea agreement and found him a position at Paradise Peak for his year of probation.
I knew he hated it with us, but he was the best chef we had ever had, and despite Brad’s pickiness, Alexander delivered top-tier food. Probably better than any other rehab facility in the country.
“I’ll tell him it’s mozzarella,” I replied.
After serving Brad his mozzarella-filled chicken, I finished getting everyone started on their meals before leaning against the nurses’ counter to talk with Kaitlin. It was our normal afternoon routine and a short bit of semi-solitude while the patients enjoyed their meals.
“That new guy seems like a giant asshole,” I said.
“A hot one.”
“Well, I don’t think looks have a bearing on someone’s asshole rating. Mr. March told me to take my tongue piercing out again; what is the probability I can get him to forget about that damn rule?”
“Cassidy, just take it out. It’s not like you’re giving blowjobs here and need to impress your boyfriend with it. Oh, wait, you haven’t had a boyfriend in two years.” She dramatically laughed.
It was the truth, and I hated when Kaitlin brought it up. I had purposely been avoiding men since getting sober myself. I could have dated any number of guys if I wanted to, but I didn’t. I was single and very happy. But she just drove me nuts when she teased me about it.
Most guys my age drank, and it was impossible to find a guy who didn’t want to go out to the clubs or drink at a restaurant, and I just didn’t think I could handle that kind of pressure. I hadn’t even gone out with my friends lately because I wasn’t confident enough in my own ability to stay sober yet.
“You’re just jealous because I could have any man I wanted, down on his knees begging to have me,” I said to try and get her riled up and then I turned toward the room to go back to work.
Sure as hell, when I turned around, there was Mr. March and that damn new patient Erik standing right there. They had both heard everything I had just said. Mr. March stood there with a disastrous grimace on his face.
“Do I have to get on my knees?” Erik said and winked at me.
My eyes got big, my face turned one hundred shades of red, and I looked to Kaitlin to rescue me, but she just turned around as she started to laugh. There was no way of avoiding the fact that both Mr. March and this new patient had just heard me and I stood frozen as I tried to figure out what the heck to do.
Erik had a smirk on his face and looked like he was devouring my body with his eyes. He was obviously one of those confident guys who could get any woman he wanted, no matter how crude he was. But that wasn’t going to work around here. He was at Paradise Peak for tre