Marty's Horrible, Terrible, Very Bad Day by Dakota Cassidy

Author:Dakota Cassidy [Cassidy, Dakota]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Dakota Cassidy
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

“I still don’t know how this happened,” Dr. Valentine moaned with a scowl as he looked around in bewilderment at Hollis’s playroom as though he’d been dropped on the planet Mars. Which, considering how funny he looked amidst all the dolls and castles, probably wasn’t a reach. “I don’t ever remember leaving the hospital. And now I’ve tried to harm one of my patients? It’s unconscionable! This is sheer madness.”

“I’ll say,” Rocky muttered, scratching her head as she watched Dr. Valentine reposition himself in the teeny-tiny chair at a teeny-tiny table she could only assume was Hollis’s tea table.

As she stood in Hollis’s playroom and Archibald—in a sharp plaid bathrobe—poured Dr. Valentine some tea, Rocky watched the commotion as people wandered in and out, catering to his every need.

Darnell, probably one of the only men in the group who could rival Dr. Valentine in girth, leaned against the far wall, his head pressed to Carl’s, who was showing him something with great excitement on his iPad.

Nina and Wanda, their husbands and other assorted family members, gathered in small groups, all talking at once.

She, on the other hand, was skeptical. She couldn’t smell magic or whatever Nina had described, but she also still wasn’t sure she fully understood the whole magic slant to this, and how Dr. Valentine had been abracadabra’d.

Leaning into Hudson, trying not to sniff his spicy cologne or brush against his muscled arms, she asked, “So let me get this straight. Someone put a spell on Dr. Valentine that made him come here and try to kill Marty?”

Hudson leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. “If I’m hearing right, yep. I think. I don’t know.”

“I don’t get it. According to Wanda and Nina, they can’t think of anyone who wants them dead who isn’t locked up or dead themselves.”

“I don’t get it either, but how damn funny is it to see big old crabby pants Dr. Doomsday in a plastic purple chair made for a five-year-old in the middle of this decidedly very pink and purple room?”

Rocky snorted. “Should we selfie and Instagram it? Bet housekeeping would love this turn of events.”

Now Hudson snorted, but then he sobered, his eyes finding hers. “It’s really not his fault. Do you have any idea how damning this could be to his career? If it got out that he tried to kill a patient, even under the influence of magic, the rumor mill would have a bloody field day. He’s already on the most-hated list at the hospital.”

“Well, it’s not like he doesn’t deserve to be on that list,” she reminded. “He has the bedside manner of Attila the Hun, for gravy’s sake.”

Hudson’s face softened, his expression filled with sympathy. “But he doesn’t deserve to go down for something he had no control over, Rocky. He’s an excellent surgeon, despite his sour disposition, and let’s not forget, he’s got some gargoyle disease he refuses to talk about. When you’re sick, aren’t you a little cranky?”

“Look at you stick up for the meaniebutt,” she teased, nudging him in his hard stomach.

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