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After being dumped, Isla Morris makes a pact with her ex's biggest competition, F1 driver Matthew Carr, to get inside Lucas's head.
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Isla Morris is dating the world's best F1 racer - at least, she w...
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The thing about being a doctor, Isla thought, was that it sounded a lot more glamorous than it was.
Isla pushed the needle into the skin. 90-degree angle, a centimeter to the right of the wound. Gentle pressure. She hadn't done sutures in a while — not since uni, anyway — and the sad truth was, it would be the most exciting part of her day. Her other patients had come in with strep throat, an ear infection, and a bruised knee.
It was nice to have a change.
Not that she wanted more eleven-year-olds to fall off their bikes, Isla thought hurriedly. Not at all. But, you know. It did make things interesting.
Isla tugged the needle up. The young boy yelped.
She stopped. "Does it hurt?"
"Really bad." He winced. "I think it might fall off."
"Your finger?"
He nodded stoically. "You may have to kiss it better."
Isla frowned. "I'm not entirely sure how appropriate that would be."
"Or you can kiss me." The boy grinned cheekily. "I need the practice."
Isla arched an eyebrow. She was reminded eerily of Matthew Carr, and she grimaced. Good lord, the world could only take so many incurable flirts. She turned back to her suturing. "Alas, I don't think that's in my job description."
"Oh." The boy's face fell. He squinted at her. "You're too pretty to be a doctor."
"I—thanks?"
"How old are you?"
Isla pulled the needle. "Twenty-two."
"Hmm." He kicked his legs. "You're really a doctor?"
"Afraid so."
He tilted his head. "Do you cut people open?"
"No."
Isla tugged the needle. She'd wanted to be a surgeon, once, just after graduating university. She'd imagined fearlessly commanding operating rooms, demanding clamps and scalpels and more blood. But then Monaco happened last year, and everything changed.
Now, Isla spent her days swabbing throats at a local drop-in clinic.
Not that she minded. It was an important job, Isla reminded herself, and one that she was good at. So long as she was helping people, she didn't care.
Much.
The boy fiddled with a roll of gauze. "Do you have a boyfriend?"
"Yes, I—" Pain sliced through her. Lucas. It had been two weeks, but she missed him. Every time she thought about him, it was like losing him all over again. "No. I don't." Isla paused. Oh, wait. Shit. "Actually, I do. His name is Matt. He's a race car driver."
