Doc handed Carrie the rum and Coke she’d asked him to fetch from the bar. He slid in beside her, draping an arm casually across her shoulders. “Oh, I don’t know, Doc.” Carrie sipped her drink, glancing toward the bathroom where her friend had disappeared a few moments before. “He’s on the rebound.” “So?” Doc knocked back the shot he’d ordered, making a face and shuddering just slightly. “He’s a cute doctor, right? He fits the bill.” “Wilson’s kind of… eccentric.” Carrie smiled into her glass, seeing him getting his order up at the bar. There weren’t too many residents with fat, dark ponytails and eyebrow rings. In fact, Wilson was the only one. But the University of Michigan had accepted him in spite of his alternative looks—and ideas—and that was a testament to his intelligence and skill, she knew. He was just that good. Of course, he wasn’t as good as her Doc. “I’m a cute doctor.” Doc pouted, actually sticking out his lower lip at her. “I don’t see why I can’t be on the list.”
