AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hi guys! I'm writing a collaboration Harry fanfic with @Alessandra and @Dirtyyarn . It's under the name @PussyJockeys , and it's entitled SLIGHT PRESSURE. Harry is a gynecologist. lol

If you love awkward but dirty Harry – this will be the story for you! Thank you. xo

Book link:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/69466609-slight-pressure

SHERRY:

There's a few more questions, but the doctor can't really answer anything at this point, until he sees the updated x-rays and MRI. We thank him, and he's out of there pretty quick to attend to other patients.

No sooner than I turn my attention back to Harry, than I hear the clickity-click of high heels and a dramatic swoosh of the curtain, causing all eyes to turn.

"Did I miss anything?"

SHERRY

Her presence alone brings an unpleasant chill to the room. She crosses the floor in a snake-like slither, each click of her heels creating an ice-pick cracking sound reminiscent of Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct.

The hair on the back of my neck tingles as she breezes by Robin and me with nary a glance and hones in on Harry. She leans over, gives him an air-kiss on the forehead with a "muh" sound, her lips never touching his skin.

"What's the status on your condition, love? Will you be in ship-shape soon?"

Harry's face is devoid of expression. "We won't know anything until they do the x-rays and MRI today, mum." There's a fraction of annoyance in his tone, just below the surface.

"When are they going to do those things? Soon? I can't wait here all day, I've got to take Paige shopping for dresses for the holiday banquets coming up. They'll be here before you know it, and it's good for business to present a perfect family image at these events," she pauses for a breath, "Who do we need to tip to get things moving around here?"

She turns to me, for the first time realizing I'm even in the room. She surveys me from head to toe, her eyes linger a moment on my frayed jeans and Converse. Then she speaks to me, "Obviously you don't work here, based on the way you're dressed."

Oh no she did not. My mouth hangs open for a brief moment while I regain control of my faculties. I'm about to punch a bitch in the face. No, wait . . . this is Harry's mother. I must calm the fuck down.

Then she says, "Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm his at-home caretaker," I respond.

"She's my girlfriend," Harry answers, our simultaneous answers uniting in an airborne muddle.

I glance at Harry, a sheepish grin on his face. As I return the smile (this is so awkward it's hysterical) and turn back to his mother, I realize her complexion's paled.

"His girlfriend? Absolutely not! Harry, she's a hillbilly, for God's sake! Her accent is bad enough but look at what she's wearing! You're supposed to marry Paige! This tattered clothing will do nothing for the company image!"

"Mum!" Harry begins to address her, but I'm so pissed I can't keep my mouth shut.

"M'am, I've been his girlfriend for about a month now, which you'd know if you'd have visited him more than once since the accident. Or if you even cared about his condition and emotions half as much as you care about these . . . these . . . banquets, or whatever they are – that seem to be more important to you than your own son!" Her mouth agape in horror, I continue. "Now the way I see it, there's only two visitor chairs in this area, and they're for me and Robin."

I cross my arms across my chest and perform an imaginary mic drop in my mind. Her eyes are so narrow, I can't even be certain they're open. We engage in the standoff of the century, before she huffs, "This isn't over yet, Harry!"

She storms out, I hear a few ice-pick clicks of her heels in the corridor, and she's gone just as quickly as she'd appeared.

I'm momentarily relieved, but that turns to apprehension as I worry I've overstepped my bounds. Harry gets my attention with a slow-clap in the background, "That was incredible," he says with a grin.

I release a loud exhale like I've been holding my breath the whole time. I turn to Robin to make my apologies. That may have been the girlfriendy thing to do, but it definitely wasn't caretaker behavior. Fuck.

"Sherry, may I speak with you outside, please?" Robin asks.

"Umm, sure. Of course," I answer with a glance at Harry, who looks confused.

I follow Robin around the corner, "I am so sorry," I begin, hoping to head him off with an apology.

"That won't be necessary," Robin states. Oh fuckity-fuck, fuck, fuck. He's going to fire me.

"No need to be sorry, she deserved every bit of it."

What?

"I haven't been completely honest," Robin begins. "This is the second time I've kept information from you, so I'll understand if you're angry . . . but it wasn't just a coincidence that you ended up as Harry's caretaker."

My mind races, trying to decipher the puzzle as Mr. Twist continues. "You didn't just happen into this job with minimal experience. I chose you."

"Based on my interview. Right?"

"Let me explain," he takes off his glasses and wipes the lenses with a handkerchief from inside his sports jacket. "When I arrived at the hospital the night of the accident, the nurse gave me an envelope with Harry's personal property in it, including his phone. I know I shouldn't have done it, but I searched through his phone myself to see if there was anything relevant to the accident, before I turned it over to the police. I soon found out they were trying to pin it on Niall, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt it wasn't him. Niall's been one of Harry's best mates for years."

Does he know who did this to Harry? I feel like I'm going to puke.

"I believe you're aware that Harry's mother wants to marry him off to Paige because my company does quite a bit of business with her father. Harry, however, has no interest in Paige, and I want my son to be happy. We're given only one life on this earth, and I'll be damned if I'll take his from him and use it to further my business endeavors."

"That makes perfect sense." I nod in agreement, "But I still don't see how you've been untruthful?"

"I'm sorry. Here's the bottom line," Robin says, looking a little peaked. "When Harry woke up after the accident and realized he was . . . paralyzed," Robin pauses and closes his eyes for a moment before opening them to speak. "He was in terrible state. His emotions were all over the place. So much so that we had to sedate him for a few days so his health wasn't compromised." Robin continues while I nod my understanding at proper intervals. "I knew things with Paige were bad, and to be honest – I didn't expect to see her come around at all after the accident. I knew that if Harry had any chance of recovering from this, or God forbid, adjusting to it as a normal way of life -- he was going to need positive people surrounding him. I remembered seeing your text banter with Harry, and a picture when I'd snooped through his phone. Having met most of Harry's mates, I didn't recognize you, so I went on the iCloud to take a look. After reading over the texts a couple times, I could tell that Harry'd taken an interest in you that first night."

I run my hands through my hair in angst, interrupting Robin. "What picture?" I don't recall Harry ever taking my picture.

"This one," Robin says, pulling out his phone to how me a picture of myself wearing a blue bandanna as a blindfold, and Harry's hand holding up a green Airhead to my lips. That little shit. Taking a picture without my consent. I am going to fuck that boy up.

"Here's the part you might not like . . . I figured since you were at the party, you must be a student at the university as well. I found out your full name and I put up caretaker fliers at the university and nearby coffee shops, and hoped you would apply. I knew you were a nursing student, and I wanted to hire you, specifically, to care for my son."

"How did you get all that information?"

"It's amazing what a donation to a university can get a person," he nods.

"What about the elderly woman ruse? Why didn't you just ask me directly? What if I didn't respond to the advertisement?"

"I was already working on Plan B in case you didn't respond at all – hell, even if you did, I didn't know if you'd accept the job. We both know how Harry reacted when he found out it you were his nurse – trying to fire you. Why do you think I didn't answer the phone when you tried to call me that night? I knew Harry was feeling embarrassed and sorry for himself, but I also knew somehow you'd get it worked out. I'll admit I've done this whole thing by gambling on my gut instinct, and that instinct has paid off for Harry."

Still dumbfounded, I ask, "So you chose me above better qualified applicants?"

"I never called any of the other applicants. I chose you, because I want my son to be whole again, and to be happy. And there's no way that can happen with his mother and that greedy Paige around here. I chose you to motivate my son. He cares for you a great deal, and I needed to give him a reason to live. And that reason is you."