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Hotshot Doc Quotes
Hotshot Doc
by
R.S. Grey21,477 ratings, 4.04 average rating, 1,932 reviews
Hotshot Doc Quotes
Showing 1-19 of 19
“The harder the shell, the softer the heart.”
― Hotshot Doc
― Hotshot Doc
“Side note: funeral homes don’t appreciate you suggesting you’ll just make the caskets yourself”
― Hotshot Doc
― Hotshot Doc
“We take the stairs down to the first level of the parking garage and I lead us toward the area reserved for doctors. She makes her way toward a black Audi, turns, and waits for me to join her.
I smirk. “That’s not my car.”
She nods. “Right, of course. I see it now.”
She goes to a bright yellow Ferrari that belongs to one of the plastic surgeons. The vanity license plate reads: SXY DOC88. “Here we are.”
“Not even close.”
“Oh, okay. I get it. You aren’t flashy. Maybe that gray Range Rover over there?”
I press the unlock button on my key fob and my rear lights flash. There she is, the car I’ve driven since I was in medical school.
“You’re kidding. A Prius?! Satan himself drives a Prius?!” She turns around as if hoping to find someone else she can share this moment with. All she’s got is me.
I shrug. “It gets good gas mileage.”
She blinks exaggeratedly. “I couldn’t be more shocked if you’d hitched a horse to a buggy.”
I chuckle and open the back door to toss in her backpack. “Get in. Traffic is going to be hell.”
We buckle up in silence, back up and leave the parking garage in silence, pull out into traffic in silence.
Finally, I ask, “Where do you live?”
“On the west side. Right across from Franklin Park.”
“Good. I have an errand I need to run that’s right by there. Mind if I do that before I drop you off?”
“Well seeing as how you stole my backpack and forced me into your car, I don’t really think it matters what I want.”
I see. She’s still pouting. That’s fine. “Good. Glad we’re on the same page.”
She doesn’t think I’m funny.”
― Hotshot Doc
I smirk. “That’s not my car.”
She nods. “Right, of course. I see it now.”
She goes to a bright yellow Ferrari that belongs to one of the plastic surgeons. The vanity license plate reads: SXY DOC88. “Here we are.”
“Not even close.”
“Oh, okay. I get it. You aren’t flashy. Maybe that gray Range Rover over there?”
I press the unlock button on my key fob and my rear lights flash. There she is, the car I’ve driven since I was in medical school.
“You’re kidding. A Prius?! Satan himself drives a Prius?!” She turns around as if hoping to find someone else she can share this moment with. All she’s got is me.
I shrug. “It gets good gas mileage.”
She blinks exaggeratedly. “I couldn’t be more shocked if you’d hitched a horse to a buggy.”
I chuckle and open the back door to toss in her backpack. “Get in. Traffic is going to be hell.”
We buckle up in silence, back up and leave the parking garage in silence, pull out into traffic in silence.
Finally, I ask, “Where do you live?”
“On the west side. Right across from Franklin Park.”
“Good. I have an errand I need to run that’s right by there. Mind if I do that before I drop you off?”
“Well seeing as how you stole my backpack and forced me into your car, I don’t really think it matters what I want.”
I see. She’s still pouting. That’s fine. “Good. Glad we’re on the same page.”
She doesn’t think I’m funny.”
― Hotshot Doc
“You think I’m a cold bastard. You want me to be polite and gentle with you. You want me to pat your head and give you a gold star for doing your job. I won’t.” I pause briefly. “Grow up.”
― Hotshot Doc
― Hotshot Doc
“My insides are made of ooey-gooey mush.”
― Hotshot Doc
― Hotshot Doc
“This woman with glossy hair and smooth legs seems foreign even to me, but it feels good, as if I’m faster and more aerodynamic now that they’ve stripped most of the hair from my body.”
― Hotshot Doc
― Hotshot Doc
“My clothes were already laid out on the floor as if I’d been raptured right out of them the night before.”
― Hotshot Doc
― Hotshot Doc
“I’m excited to go to Matt’s parents’ house for Christmas, but I wish he’d sprung it on me a little earlier, like maybe before all the stores closed. I would have liked to bring his mom something: a candle, a tea towel—I don’t know. I’ve never had a boyfriend, therefore I’ve never had to impress a boyfriend’s mom, so I’m just going off of what I think Reese Witherspoon or Joanna Gaines would do, and they’d sure as shit bring a gift for Mrs. Russell.”
― Hotshot Doc
― Hotshot Doc
“By the way, I’ve been wondering—what would my Grey’s Anatomy nickname be?”
“You already have one, remember? You’re my very own Hotshot Doc.”
He frowns. “But there has to be a ‘Mc’ in front of it.”
“Okay then, how about Dr. McGivesHisPregnantWifeFootRubs?”
“Doesn’t roll off the tongue.”
“Okay…Dr. McPassesThePopcorn?”
“You see how that doesn’t work, right? It has to be pithy.”
I tap my chin. “Oh okay, yeah. I’ve got one now. Hear me out.”
“All right.”
“Are you listening?”
“Yeah.”
“Dr. Mc…”
After a long pause, he finally asks, “You don’t have one do you?”
“The good ones are already taken!”
He laughs and tugs me closer. “Okay, you’re right. Let’s just stick with Hotshot.”
― Hotshot Doc
“You already have one, remember? You’re my very own Hotshot Doc.”
He frowns. “But there has to be a ‘Mc’ in front of it.”
“Okay then, how about Dr. McGivesHisPregnantWifeFootRubs?”
“Doesn’t roll off the tongue.”
“Okay…Dr. McPassesThePopcorn?”
“You see how that doesn’t work, right? It has to be pithy.”
I tap my chin. “Oh okay, yeah. I’ve got one now. Hear me out.”
“All right.”
“Are you listening?”
“Yeah.”
“Dr. Mc…”
After a long pause, he finally asks, “You don’t have one do you?”
“The good ones are already taken!”
He laughs and tugs me closer. “Okay, you’re right. Let’s just stick with Hotshot.”
― Hotshot Doc
“Bailey,” I say, my voice carrying easily across the marble floor. “Wait.”
She turns back and rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed to see me coming her way. She quickly wipes at her cheeks then holds up her hand to wave me off. “I’m off the clock. I don’t want to talk to you right now. If you want to chew me out for what happened back there, you’ll have to do it on Monday. I’m going home.”
“How?”
Her pretty brown eyes, full of tears, narrow up at me in confusion. “How what?”
“How are you getting home? Did you park on the street or something?”
Her brows relax as she realizes I’m not about to scold her. “Oh.” She turns to the window. “I’m going to catch the bus.” The bus? “The stop is just down the street a little bit.”
“Don’t you have a car?”
She steels her spine. “No. I don’t.”
I’ll have to look into what we’re paying her—surely she should have no problem affording a car to get her to and from work.
“Okay, well then what about an Uber or something?”
Her tone doesn’t lighten as she replies, “I usually take the bus. It’s fine.”
I look for an umbrella and frown when I see her hands are empty. “You’re going to get drenched and it’s freezing out there.”
She laughs and starts to step back. “It’s not your concern. Don’t worry about me.”
Yes, well unfortunately, I do worry about her. For the last three weeks, all I’ve done is worry about her.
Cooper is to blame. He fuels my annoyance on a daily basis, updating me about their texts and bragging to me about how their relationship is developing. Relationship—I find that laughable. They haven’t gone on a date. They haven’t even spoken on the phone. If the metric for a “relationship” lies solely in the number of text messages exchanged then as of this week, I’m in a relationship with my tailor, my UberEats delivery guy, and my housekeeper. I’ve got my hands fucking full.
“Well I’m not going to let you wait out at the bus stop in this weather. C’mon, I’ll drive you.”
Her soft feminine laugh echoes around the lobby.
“Thank you, but I’d rather walk.”
What she really means is, Thank you, but I’d rather die.
“It’s really not a request. You’re no good to me if you have to call in sick on Monday because you caught pneumonia.”
Her gaze sheens with a new layer of hatred. “You of all people know you don’t catch pneumonia just from being cold and wet.”
She tries to step around me, but I catch her backpack and tug it off her shoulder. I can’t put it on because she has the shoulder straps set to fit a toddler, so I hold it in my hand and start walking. She can either follow me or not. I tell myself I don’t care either way.
“Dr. Russell—” she says behind me, her feet lightly tap-tap-tapping on the marble as she hurries to keep up.
“You’re clocked out, aren’t you? Call me Matt.”
“Doctor,” she says pointedly. “Please give me my backpack before I call security.”
I laugh because really, she’s hilarious. No one has ever threatened to call security on me before.
“It’s Matt, and if you’re going to call security, make sure you ask for Tommy. He’s younger and stands a decent chance of catching me before I hightail it out of here with your pink JanSport backpack. What do you have in here anyway?”
It weighs nothing.
“My lunchbox. A water bottle. Some empty Tupperware.”
Tupperware.
I glance behind me to check on her. She’s fast-walking as she trails behind me. Am I really that much taller than her?
“Did you bring more banana bread?”
She nods and nearly breaks out in a jog. “Patricia didn’t get any last time and I felt bad.”
“I didn’t get any last time either,” I point out.
She snorts. “Yeah well, I don’t feel bad about that.”
I face forward again so she can’t see my smile.”
― Hotshot Doc
She turns back and rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed to see me coming her way. She quickly wipes at her cheeks then holds up her hand to wave me off. “I’m off the clock. I don’t want to talk to you right now. If you want to chew me out for what happened back there, you’ll have to do it on Monday. I’m going home.”
“How?”
Her pretty brown eyes, full of tears, narrow up at me in confusion. “How what?”
“How are you getting home? Did you park on the street or something?”
Her brows relax as she realizes I’m not about to scold her. “Oh.” She turns to the window. “I’m going to catch the bus.” The bus? “The stop is just down the street a little bit.”
“Don’t you have a car?”
She steels her spine. “No. I don’t.”
I’ll have to look into what we’re paying her—surely she should have no problem affording a car to get her to and from work.
“Okay, well then what about an Uber or something?”
Her tone doesn’t lighten as she replies, “I usually take the bus. It’s fine.”
I look for an umbrella and frown when I see her hands are empty. “You’re going to get drenched and it’s freezing out there.”
She laughs and starts to step back. “It’s not your concern. Don’t worry about me.”
Yes, well unfortunately, I do worry about her. For the last three weeks, all I’ve done is worry about her.
Cooper is to blame. He fuels my annoyance on a daily basis, updating me about their texts and bragging to me about how their relationship is developing. Relationship—I find that laughable. They haven’t gone on a date. They haven’t even spoken on the phone. If the metric for a “relationship” lies solely in the number of text messages exchanged then as of this week, I’m in a relationship with my tailor, my UberEats delivery guy, and my housekeeper. I’ve got my hands fucking full.
“Well I’m not going to let you wait out at the bus stop in this weather. C’mon, I’ll drive you.”
Her soft feminine laugh echoes around the lobby.
“Thank you, but I’d rather walk.”
What she really means is, Thank you, but I’d rather die.
“It’s really not a request. You’re no good to me if you have to call in sick on Monday because you caught pneumonia.”
Her gaze sheens with a new layer of hatred. “You of all people know you don’t catch pneumonia just from being cold and wet.”
She tries to step around me, but I catch her backpack and tug it off her shoulder. I can’t put it on because she has the shoulder straps set to fit a toddler, so I hold it in my hand and start walking. She can either follow me or not. I tell myself I don’t care either way.
“Dr. Russell—” she says behind me, her feet lightly tap-tap-tapping on the marble as she hurries to keep up.
“You’re clocked out, aren’t you? Call me Matt.”
“Doctor,” she says pointedly. “Please give me my backpack before I call security.”
I laugh because really, she’s hilarious. No one has ever threatened to call security on me before.
“It’s Matt, and if you’re going to call security, make sure you ask for Tommy. He’s younger and stands a decent chance of catching me before I hightail it out of here with your pink JanSport backpack. What do you have in here anyway?”
It weighs nothing.
“My lunchbox. A water bottle. Some empty Tupperware.”
Tupperware.
I glance behind me to check on her. She’s fast-walking as she trails behind me. Am I really that much taller than her?
“Did you bring more banana bread?”
She nods and nearly breaks out in a jog. “Patricia didn’t get any last time and I felt bad.”
“I didn’t get any last time either,” I point out.
She snorts. “Yeah well, I don’t feel bad about that.”
I face forward again so she can’t see my smile.”
― Hotshot Doc
“Again with the Dr. Russell bullshit. We’re off the clock. “Matt,” I correct. She shoots me a quick, searing glare that leaves me with third-degree burns.”
― Hotshot Doc
― Hotshot Doc
“She snaps the lid back on the Tupperware. “Then I’ll just take this bread to the break room. No point in it going to waste. See you in surgery!” Then she saunters out. She leaves my office and takes my damn banana bread with her.”
― Hotshot Doc
― Hotshot Doc
“Hey, you,” I snap at a waiter on his phone just outside the door. “Are those the coconut shrimp?” He nods dumbly, eyes wide at being caught slacking on the job. “Give them to me.” “What?” He’s scared. He looks around for a manager, but it’s just us. “You heard me. Stuff them in my purse—now!” And that’s how I leave Dr. Lopez’s retirement party toting two dozen coconut shrimp.
Grey, R.S.. Hotshot Doc (pp. 55-56). Kindle Edition.”
― Hotshot Doc
Grey, R.S.. Hotshot Doc (pp. 55-56). Kindle Edition.”
― Hotshot Doc
“Are any of them even half as cute as Dr. McDreamy?” “Most of them are old men. Gray hair, mustaches, bellies like Santa Claus. You’ve seen my boss.”
― Hotshot Doc
― Hotshot Doc
“in the mornings without”
― Hotshot Doc
― Hotshot Doc
“Was that really your favorite part of the oath?” “If it’s Dr. McCormick’s favorite, then it’s mine too,” I say with an innocent smile. His eyes narrow. “I didn’t realize you were a puppet now. If I stick my hand in you, will you do my bidding as well?”
― Hotshot Doc
― Hotshot Doc
“I take a bite of the stale bread and convince myself I’m eating at a Michelin-starred restaurant. That’s not water, it’s champagne, and that line of ants trailing along the baseboard over there in perfect formation? That’s called having dinner and a show.”
― Hotshot Doc
― Hotshot Doc
“him to poison my food, or at the very least deliver me a drink with a heavy pour. Unfortunately, he just thinks I’m flirting—he passes me his number when he delivers the next course.”
― Hotshot Doc
― Hotshot Doc
“He shrugs and moves away. Suddenly he’s a sly punk running his hand along my desk, touching things that don’t belong to him. “Yeah, but we hit it off. There was this instant connection. You get it. You probably feel the same way when you get a new medical device, this sort of excitement down in your loins.”
― Hotshot Doc
― Hotshot Doc
