by T Gephart
The excitement bubbled inside of me, my own smile making an appearance. “It’s too ridiculous to even repeat.”
Instant attraction wasn’t something that usually happened with me.
I could appreciate a guy who was good-looking, but then I needed a little more. Something beyond the window dressing to keep me interested.
He got closer, the familiarity and the proximity should’ve made me nervous, but it didn’t. “I bet it isn’t. And since it seems so important—finding Edwin—why don’t you tell me.”
My heart stopped, searching his face for confirmation even though he’d given me the answer. “I-I . . .” there was no way I could tell him the truth, “it was a stupid dare.”
I wasn’t sure what sounded more ridiculous, two grown women playing a game of dare or the idea that he could be my soulmate. I was usually better at thinking on my feet, the whole meeting-my-destiny-that-I-was-sure-was-bullshit throwing me off.
“Your sister?” His head tipped in the direction of Belle who was being completely obvious she was watching.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “And since I’ve fulfilled the dare, I should go. So . . . thanks.” I waved—ironically more the gavel than my hand—and turned to back away.
I mean, what else was there to say to the guy?
I’d met him, done whatever Belle had thought I was contractually obligated to do, and we still had to get my sister to the delivery ward.
So what if I was instantly attracted to him, and he had a nice smile. I knew nothing about him other than his name, which was just some weird coincidence.
It had to be.
Old-school names had made a comeback; it didn’t mean anything.
Steady, measured strides took me away from Edwin, purposely not looking back as I moved toward my sister. Her face was filled with so much expectation, I almost felt worse for her than myself. Although, I wasn’t sure I really could be disappointed in something that didn’t happen.
There was a meeting, and it was over, what more did I expect?
A three-minute interaction was not long enough for me to form any kind of attachments, superficial or otherwise.
“Okay, now that’s done, we need to get you to Hayley before this kid is born and has already celebrated his or hers first birthday.” I didn’t look back, keeping my voice unemotional so she wouldn’t see I was slightly deflated.
Because as much as I knew it was ridiculous to even feel like that, if Belle sniffed it out, I’d have even bigger problems to deal with. Like her chasing the poor guy down and demanding he date me or something equally inappropriate.
“Oh, really?” Belle asked, her eyes widening.
Great.
Maybe I hadn’t been as convincing as I’d thought.
“Belle, I said hello. What did you expect? A marriage proposal?” I huffed impatiently, tugging on her arm.
“Well, if I’d known there was a chance you might’ve proposed, I wouldn’t have let you walk away.”
The voice came from behind me.
His voice.
And suddenly Belle’s excitement made sense.
It had nothing to do with me and what I’d said, but the fact he’d followed me back.
Edwin
Meeting women wasn’t usually a problem.
A bar, the grocery store—hell once I’d even gotten a phone number picking up my laundry from the dry cleaner. But a hospital, that was new even for me.
At first, I thought it was some kind of practical joke. I’d come to visit Nate, my old college roommate, since I was in town. Unlike me, he’d completed his medical degree and became an ER physician. I, instead, dropped out and decided to go into law.
It was still a bone of contention between us. Nate believed I should’ve followed him into the medical profession and saved lives. Instead, most of the time, I ended them. Not in the traditional way, I mean, they still got to be alive and breathe, but for most of them, they’d have preferred not to be. Not that most —if not all—of them didn’t deserve it. And hey, I slept fine at night with my life choices.
But Zara—she wasn’t a woman I was going to ignore whether it was a joke or not. Which was why when she said goodbye, I followed her.
She was beautiful. Her dark eyes were the color of a perfectly brewed espresso, with dark brown hair that hung loose in large waves, framing her gorgeous face. Her body was equally impressive, conservatively wrapped in a skirt and jacket that screamed corporate but was sexy all the same.
“Heeeeeyyyyy!” She twisted around suddenly, making me worried about where that gavel might land.
It was cute that she thought I didn’t know how a subpoena was served, and I wasn’t interested in correcting her.
“Zara.” I liked saying her name and hoped I’d have the opportunity to say it a few more times. “So want to tell me more about this marriage proposal?”
Usually talk of marriage before you’d even dated someone was a huge red flag. And I’d been in enough bad relationships to run ten miles when it didn’t feel right. But something about the situation told me Zara was different. And crazy or not, I wasn’t running anywhere. Not at least until I got her phone number or a commitment I’d see her again.
She laughed nervously, shooting her sister a glare before turning back toward me. “It was nothing. Just a—”
“Dare?” I finished for her. “Well then, I don’t want to be the one to stop you.” I grinned, straightening as I waved a hand in front of me. “Go ahead, Zara, propose. I’ll pretend to act surprised.”
Unlike Zara—who had legs for days—her sibling resembled Tinker Belle. She was short and petite, with dirty blonde hair and light brown eyes, and would probably be carded until she was thirty. She was pretty, but wasn’t even close to the level of heat Zara had simmering.
Her sister squealed, knotting her hands together and shoving them under her chin. “This is the best thing ever! Don’t forget, I’m the maid of honor, we have an agreement.”
“Would you stop!” Zara huffed, either embarrassed or frustrated. I had no idea how long their little game had been going on so couldn’t guess either way. “I’m not proposing.”
I wasn’t sure who the statement was addressed to but claimed it all the same. “Oh? Shame.” I tried to pull my mouth into an exaggerated frown, unable to keep from smiling. “I have my acceptance speech all worked out.”
She rolled her beautiful eyes, nailing me with a look. “Even if I did propose, you weren’t going to accept.”
“We’ll never know now, will we?” I shrugged, unable to help myself as I moved closer. “But I think at the very least we owe it to ourselves—and our almost trip to the altar—to have a coffee.”
It was more direct than I usually was, and I’ll admit, the strangest way I’d ever attempted a date. But regular or not, coffee would make a good start. Maybe dinner? I mean, if I had to be in town for the next week or two, I might as well take advantage of an opportunity that had landed in my lap.
Zara shifted on her feet, and I wasn’t sure if she was uncomfortable with the indecision churning in her head or with me.
Before she had a chance to answer, her sister’s phone erupted loudly. “Shiiiiitt,” she swore. “It’s Hayley. I’ve got to go. Better run. Have fun!”
Zara grabbed her sister’s arm, stopping what looked to be a hasty escape. “I thought you said you didn’t know where you were going? And that you needed me to personally escort you?”
She wasn’t mad per se, more likely suspicious and if I’d been more of a gentleman, I might have been more interested. But the truth was that I was glad her sister was looking to leave, excited it meant that date or not, I’d get a few moments alone with Zara. But I wasn’t going to leave any of that to chance, deciding to insert myself into the equation whether they wanted me there or not.
“You need an escort?” I asked, unsure of what I wanted the answer to be. “Because I know this place so well, I could probably give you a guided tour.”
“No
, I’ve got it!” The pixie clutched her phone against her chest. “You guys go plan your life together.” She shot her sister a wicked grin. “I’ll call you after the baby is born. Have fun.”
And without giving either of us a chance to interject, she took off, leaving us behind to watch her leap and twirl like a ballet dancer in the direction of the elevator.
“So, Zara.” I turned my attention back to where it wanted to be. “Seems like she has it covered.”
She shook her head, sighing. “She does this. Pretends she isn’t capable, only to have everyone else do it for her. But as you can see,” she pointed to where her sister had run to, “she miraculously finds the ability when it suits her.”
“Hmmm, and what about you?” I asked, not needing the confirmation to know she was probably the opposite. “You get people to do things for you too?”
She didn’t even blink, meeting my eyes easily as the hint of a smile twitched at her lips. “When I need it.”
Ooooooooohhh, maybe she wasn’t as conservative as she looked, the hint of something naughty exciting me more than made sense.
“Something we have in common then,” I offered, dancing the line between flirty and cocky. And as much as I wanted to believe I had her interest as much as she had mine, I wasn’t so conceited to know she couldn’t walk away.
“Edwin—”
“Zara.” I cut off what started to sound like a goodbye and moved closer. “You were going to ask me to marry you, I think having a coffee is a good place to start.”
Her eyes widened as she swore under her breath. “I wasn’t going to ask you to marry me.”
“Your Honor, I think the transcripts will show different.” I smirked. “Should we review?”
She laughed, which was a good sign since I wasn’t in the habit of begging women to go out with me. “You know, it’s been a really strange night. Maybe coffee isn’t such a bad idea.”
I folded my arms across my chest, lifting a brow. “You want to give me just a little more enthusiasm there, Zara?”
“Well, that depends on where we go for coffee.” Her manicured nail tapped against her pretty pink lips. “Cafeteria coffee isn’t really worth getting excited over.”
On that we could agree.
But there wasn’t a chance I was going to be wasting the opportunity by heading to the cafeteria. “There’s a coffee shop around the corner. And the coffee is so good, you’ll be ruined for all future cups.”
It wasn’t a lie either.
Nate’s schedule was ridiculous and nailing down a time to catch up like normal people was almost impossible. Which was why getting coffee at Cups was a solid reason for meeting him at the hospital.
It was in walking distance, so even when he was on-call—which seemed to be always—we could put some distance between him and the emergency room and pretend like it was old times. And the coffee was next level.
“That sounds promising.” The smile on her lips edged wider. “I’ll see if I can muster up a more appropriate response.”
I loved that even though we were obviously flirting with each other, she wasn’t telling me what I wanted to hear. That she wasn’t batting her eyelashes, pursing her lips, and using that body of hers to get whatever she wanted. She had to know what a knockout she was, positive she’d brought men to their knees with little more than a smile. So it was surprising she hadn’t used what I thought was an obvious arsenal, which just made her more attractive and intriguing.
Never had I been so glad that trucker had come in with multiple contusions. He might have different feelings about it, but Nate needing to go and play doctor instead of socializing with me meant I was in the exact right place at the exact right time.
“Shall we?” I gestured to the door, holding out my hand, palm up, and seeing if she’d take it. It wasn’t going to bother me either way, but I’d be lying if I wasn’t looking for an excuse to touch her. Even if it was just her hand.
Her delicate fingers wrapped around mine, the gavel held in the opposite one with her purse as she angled toward the exit. “If this coffee is as good as you say, I might very well end up proposing.”
“Promises, promises, Your Honor.” I laughed as I tightened my grip. “But I would never allow the caffeine to be responsible for my victory. If you want to marry me, it won’t be for what’s in your cup.”
It was more suggestive than I’d intended, but honestly, I couldn’t help myself. Pretending I wasn’t attracted to her was impossible, and I was more than sure I could back up that statement.
She didn’t even pretend to blush, raising a brow casually as her tongue slid against the seam of her lips. “Well, the night is still young, and I have a really good idea on where and how to get a marriage license.”
Oh, I bet she did.
She probably had at least three judges on speed dial too, which would be handy. And even though I knew the situation—our fictitious future wedding—was complete bullshit, the possibility excited me. And I never even wanted to get married.
“Famous last words, sweetheart. Famous. Last. Words.”
She was going to be mine before the night was out.
Cups was a small-time operation that despite being a block away from a Starbucks, could hold its own in the turf war. With superior beans and less cookie-cutter decor, it was more welcoming than the corporate counterpart.
It was also a lot smaller, most of the clientele preferring to pick up their order and leave rather than loiter in the few faded booths. But I liked the feeling of the old vinyl benches and resin tabletops, and the service was always polite without giving you a colonoscopy trying to earn extra tip money.
We walked together in comfortable silence, neither of us feeling the need to speak. For me I didn’t want to waste the opportunity without the benefit of seeing her face. Those eyes held the promise of all kinds of trouble, and I was going to enjoy finding out if my hunch had been right.
Without waiting to be seated, I walked us to a table in back. It was counter service only, but I liked the idea of getting situated before ordering our coffee. She slid onto the faded red vinyl while I shuffled into the one opposite. It was a tight squeeze, management utilizing every square inch which meant I was actually closer to her than I’d been when we were walking.
“You have dessert with your dinner?” I asked, remembering she’d been out celebrating her promotion. “If not, they have some amazing cakes and pies.”
She looked wistfully over at the glass counter, the rows of baked goods prominently displayed. “You want to split one?”
“Wow, not even married yet, and you’re already splitting our assets, Zara. I’ll share a lot of things, but dessert isn’t one of them.” I chuckled, unwilling to share what was probably the greatest apple pie in New York City.
“Ohhhhhh you’re one of those,” she mused, rolling her eyes. “Good to know.”
“Know what?” I asked, not following her logic. “And one of those who?”
“You know.” She raised her shoulder in a half shrug, pretending to be unimpressed. “The food police. ‘Can’t touch what’s on my plate.’ ‘Order your own fries.’ That guy.”
“Who the hell shares french fries?” I reared back in horror. “Pleeeeeease don’t tell me you’re one of those,” I added, equally impassioned.
It was her turn to act indignant. “One of those?”
“The ‘I don’t want any fries, I’ll just eat a salad,’ people. Meanwhile I order a cheeseburger, and my fries miraculously disappear.” I waved my hand across my imaginary plate.
She scoffed, folding her arms across her chest, which did great things for her cleavage. Hey, I wasn’t trying to be a jerk, but we were literally inches away from each other. Not like I could ignore what was a superb pair of tits. “I don’t order salad and then steal fries. And the women who do that mostly do it for their date’s benefit. God forbid we look like we eat anything. Or enjoy food.” She draped her hand across her forehead dramatically. “It’s best I just
have this one cherry tomato and slice of cucumber and faint from malnutrition rather than gain a pound or look like a healthy adult human in front of a guy who might see me naked.”
“Trust me,” I laughed, knowing it was without a doubt the weirdest first date conversation I’d ever had. “If a man has gotten to the point of seeing you naked, he’s not thinking about what you ate for dinner.”
She tilted her head in what seemed to be genuine interest. “Is that so?”
I leaned in closer, looking around cautiously, pretending I was about to divulge highly classified information. “Sweetheart, we’re not that evolved. If there is a beautiful naked woman in front of you, it takes up all your mental bandwidth. I’d be lucky to remember what had been on my plate, let alone what had been on yours.”
“Hmmmm.” She drummed her fingers against her lips, her cheeks lacking any telltale signs of being embarrassed. “And you speak for all men? A little arrogant of you, don’t you think?”
“Arrogant, or honest? You can take your pick. But those decisions you say women make—about what they eat or don’t eat—aren’t for our benefit, because we don’t give a shit.”
Her eyes darkened, her mouth dropping open slightly as she blew out a breath. And I wasn’t imagining the heat between us. Whether it was because we’d been talking about being naked or just some crazy attraction, there was something definitely going on.
I liked it.
And her.
And the way her teeth discreetly gnashed against her pouty bottom lip.
“So . . . pie or cake?” she offered, her head tipping toward the display case.
“Pie. Apple. Vanilla ice cream.” I rattled off my order like it was a list of demands in a hostage situation. “Is there really any other choice? It doesn’t get any better than that.”
“Well . . . I guess it’s just as well we’re not sharing. Key Lime. Cream not ice cream. And on the side instead of on the top.” She added her own specific instructions. “And apple is a little boring, wouldn’t you say?”