"I don't like it," Derrick complained to his surgeon as he lay face down on the table. He'd grown to gruffly respect the older fellow, a doctor who seemed to think if they could remove that last bit of metal in his spine, he might, just might, get some use of his legs back. Or the operation would fail horribly and leave him a human potato head with no movement at all.
With that kind of fifty-fifty chance, he hesitated. Life was hard enough now. He couldn't imagine it getting worse.
"What's not to like? I saw the new doctor when she was getting set up with her access badge. She's a cute thing. I wonder if she's as fiery as her hair."
The growl rumbled without thought on his lips.
The doctor misconstrued his agitation. "You don't like her type? Sure, she's a little curvy, but personally, I like a plump lady."