“Sure. That’d be great. What did you want to ask me about?” I took my last bite of cinnamon roll and mourned the empty plate as Chase glanced quickly at his notes, organizing his thoughts.
“I enjoyed your email, but I was hoping you could tell me a few stories about the delivery room and expand on a few specifics.”
My shoulders loosened at the move to a safe topic, and I shared a few of my saddest and funniest nursing experiences. He listened attentively and pulled out a small black Moleskine notebook where he jotted down notes every few minutes. Minus the notetaking, it felt like talking to a friend, and I relaxed further as I acknowledged that while Chase hadn’t been what I expected, the roots of our earlier online friendship were still strong. I didn’t realize how long I’d been talking until I looked at my watch.
“Crud. I’ve gotta go. My shift starts soon.”
Chase appeared alarmed, then he glanced at his phone and flipped through his notebook quickly before meeting my eyes. “Thanks for taking the time with me, Tamra. I appreciate it. Would it be too much to ask to continue this over dinner one night soon?”
I’d had a surprisingly good time and probably talked more outside of work than I had in weeks. Chase’s pensive and stilted demeanor had faded away the more we spoke. We’d been so focused on chatting about my work that I hadn’t had the chance to bring up the wedding. Seeing him again would give me that opportunity. I nodded as we got to our feet and I tugged on my jacket. “Sure, that’d be nice. Message me later and we can set something up?”
“Absolutely. I really appreciate your help.”
He smiled and leaned in. Normal would have been shaking my hand, but Chase went bigger than that. His arms wrapped around my shoulders and he pressed his body briefly to mine in a quick shoulder hug. His warmth had enveloped me, the pressure of his muscled arms packing my buzzing hormones down like damp sand. My body burned at the brief contact. I leaned back, my eyes probably cartoonishly large. Mouth. Face. Eyes. Hips. Boobs. Ass. Feet. One of them was always talking, whether I realized it or not.
I wasn’t sure when I’d hugged another person last. Last month when I’d babysat my nieces? My body had forgotten what body-to-body contact felt like, and I wasn’t expecting it from a first meeting. Chase’s embrace had sparked tingles and the thirst for more. More contact with those strong arms that felt like they could pull all my pieces together and light me up from the inside.
Chase stood back, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, and cleared his throat. “I’ll, uh. See you soon?”
My brain was slow to catch up with my hormones or his words. I’d never considered a hug sexy before, but judging by the fine sweat and shivers breaking out along my spine, I needed to expand my definition. Chase was undeniably handsome. And charming, in his own way. Too tongue-tied to speak, I gave him an awkward wave and walked out into the drizzle to my car. Smooth, Tamra, smooth.
Chapter 11 - Chase
Shit. Shit-shit-shit. Tamra deserved the alpha male hero. Someone who would match her competence with ease, not the loner who struggled to string two words together to invite her to dinner or tell her how beautiful she was. Of course, I cocked that up. Why’d I go for the hug? I felt close to Tamra after hearing her share so many personal stories. I wanted to be closer to her. I should have shaken her hand instead. That was the professional thing to do. This is what happened when you spent all your time in the writing cave instead of around real people. Whoever said ‘hugs not drugs’ seriously undervalued medication in controlling my impulses. Yes, drugs could be bad. So was minor assault.
I needed to find some way to make this right with Tamra. She probably thought I was a creep. I wanted to wind back time before The Hug of DoomTM. I had been doing so well too. My script had helped me make it through the afternoon without any obvious missteps. The preparation alone had calmed my nerves; I’d barely needed to refer to my notebook. Encouraging Tamra to do most of the talking had definitely helped.
Maybe if I messaged her something funny, I could get us back on the right foot.
@TamraRN Sorry for making things weird. I realize I should have stayed in hand-shaking territory.
I didn’t give her any time to reply before following up my apology with a joke to smooth over my misstep.
@TamraRN If it makes you feel any better, I have a backup business plan if this writing gig doesn’t work out. Clearly, I have a talent for awkward hugs. I’m going to hold up a sign: free hugs. Then, when someone moves in for their free hug, I’ll whisper, “It’s fifty dollars to let go.”
I set my phone aside. She might not see my message before her shift started. I needed to put my phone away or I’d never be able to focus on writing. My phone buzzed a few minutes later, and I held my breath as I read her reply.
@VirginiaRothman you give good hugs. I’m just out of practice.
Air escaped my lungs in a rush. I ruthlessly repressed the desire to type out all the other things I’d love to help her practice. I was trying to get out of hot water, not sink further.
@TamraRN I’m happy to help you practice. The world needs more hugs.
@VirginiaRothman since we’re discussing the awkward, is it okay for me to tell my friend I met you? And that you’re you?
My fingers paused above the keyboard on my phone. Fear warred with the desire to trust her. She’d trusted me with so much of herself today. Reciprocating shouldn’t be so hard, but it took me a few beats before I could come up with a response.
@TamraRN I’m not ready for it to be public knowledge yet, but I have been trying to let more of my friends and family know. So, go for it? I really enjoyed meeting you today. Thanks again for agreeing to help me. This book is going to be worlds better thanks to you.
See? I could do this. I was charming via text. I could write a mean book. I was just crap in person. Maybe if I tried a script for dinner, that’d help.
And what about hugging? Was it our thing now, or would we retreat to a no-hugging relationship? I knew which I was in favor of. It’d been nearly impossible to focus on my script during our coffee date. I’d been distracted by the shape of her lips. The confidence in her voice. Tamra’s laugh had tripped down my spine, leaving tingles of pleasure in its wake. If I scooted any closer to her in my chair, I would have been in her lap. All things considered, stopping myself at a mere hug showed restraint. Asking her over for dinner should have signaled my interest, but based on her reaction to my hug, I wasn’t sure the attraction was mutual. What I needed was a second opinion from Jimmy.
Chase: Hey. Met with Tamra today. She was nice, considering I wasn’t what she expected.
Jimmy: See? Told ya. She already liked you, I’m sure that helped.
Chase: I think it was okay. Until I hugged her at the end. Then I made it weird.
Jimmy: Maybe she’s a hugger?
Chase: I don’t think so. I tried to salvage it by joking via text afterward. I think I did okay. She said I give good hugs.
Jimmy: I think you’re in. But next time, maybe ask first? Permission is always best.
Chase: Noted. You’d think after writing romance so long, I’d actually be able to interact with women with some modicum of talent.
Jimmy: Nah, you’re just as challenged as the rest of us.
Chase: *snort* Tell me the last time you struck out by putting your foot in it?
Jimmy: I didn’t say I was like the rest of us.
Chase: Of course. I invited her over for dinner, so hopefully she still comes.
Jimmy: What are you making? Maybe you can entice her with food porn?
Chase: Use one of my better talents to cover the awkward. I like it. Suggestions?
Jimmy: Make sure you have something fabulous for dessert. Make her mouth water. Give her something to look forward to if she sticks it out to the end of dinner.
Chase: Noted.
Buoyed by Jimmy’s advice, I focused on writing the rest of the evening. My fingers tap-danced along the keyboard as I kept time with the rhyth
m of the story playing in my head. Each keystroke brought Tamra’s enthusiasm for her career to life in my heroine. Her insights into nursing helped round out my hospital scenes. She spoke with such passion about her job, if I could infuse an ounce of that emotion in my main character, it’d be a story readers could live in, over and over.
Chapter 12 - Tamra
Chase’s message on hugging was weird. But the nice kind of weird. Pleasantly awkward, but not alarming. He smelled like soap and coffee, and he didn’t hug too tight or make it more intimate than necessary. Honestly, it was the most action I’d had in forever. That didn’t stop me from thinking about his hug as I hurried into the hospital. His tall body near mine. The warm scent of cinnamon and coffee. It hadn’t been a date. Just coffee and friendly conversation, but our meeting bubbled with the possibility of something more. Chase’s laser focus on my work stories had been a warm balm to the mild indifference from my family. His interest washed every moment together in a brighter filter.
Were we friends who could ask for favors? It still felt too soon, but maybe dinner together would make me braver. Chase was roughly my age, and as the only presumably single man I’d met in recent memory, he might be an option for my brother’s wedding. Granted, I hadn’t confirmed he was single, but he’d mentioned wanting to get together again. Would he follow through? Or would he find me as forgettable as others had? Making it to the second date wasn’t exactly my strong suit.
When I arrived in a flurry on our floor for my shift, Gina was already getting her report from Tressa and Melanie. She raised an eyebrow and looked between me and the station clock. “You’re later than usual. Everything okay?”
I nodded, reluctant to explain in front of an audience. “Yes. Sorry, I had an appointment before work that ran longer than anticipated.”
Gina’s eyes sparked, but she held back any questions in front of the other nurses, and talk turned to our current patients and their status. After Melanie and Tressa had clocked out and left for the night, Gina turned her laser gaze on me.
“Appointment, hmm? Everything okay?” she asked. Her red hair stuck up in a spiky halo around her head, and with her worried expression she looked like a motherly hedgehog.
I smiled reassuringly. “I’m fine. I just met up with an author friend to help with a research project before work.”
“That sounds fun. What type of research?”
Wryly I said, “Nursing, of course. What else would I talk about? My secret life as a black-market arms dealer?”
She snorted. “I’m sure you have hidden depths, lady. Don’t sell yourself short. Maybe they’re not illegal activity depths, but they’re there. Which author did you meet? Anyone I would have read?” She leaned up against the counter at our station, but I wasn’t fooled by her casual stance.
“We’ve talked about Virginia Rothman before, right? I think I’ve recommended a few titles to you.”
Gina gasped. “Virginia Rothman? How cool. I love her books.” She tilted her head. “Pardon me while I fangirl. What was she like?”
“Not exactly as advertised,” I said. It wasn’t my story to tell, but I had his tacit approval and I figured Chase’s secret was safe with Gina.
“How so?” she inquired.
I took a deep breath. Blunt was best with Gina.
“Mostly the penis and pronouns. Virginia is distinctly male and named Chase.”
Her double take was worth the crude delivery. “So, Virginia’s a man, huh? I didn’t see that one coming.”
“Me neither,” I said fervently.
“Other than the male part, how was it?” she asked.
“Oddly good. The male part was okay too, just unexpected.”
“Hmm ... the male part was good, huh? Tell me more. Is he young? Older? Attractive?” she asked.
She thought she was being sly, stacking her questions one on top of the other to hide the one she really wanted answered. Gina didn’t do subtle.
“He’s somewhere around my age. Maybe plus or minus five years? It’s hard to tell. He’s got dark blond hair and blue eyes.”
“You missed the most important detail,” Gina chided.
“What’s that?” I asked innocently.
“Is he attractive?” she asked again.
I nodded but didn’t say more.
“Stop playing coy. What does he look like?” she pressed.
“Kind of like that lawyer from Suits.”
“Which one? Aren’t they all lawyers on that show?”
I nodded, feeling sheepish. “Like Harvey Specter, but with more stubble.” I laughed, thinking about Chase’s unkempt hair. “And maybe more disheveled too.”
“Oooh. And single?” she asked.
“No idea,” I admitted. I held back that he’d mentioned a follow-up dinner. I didn’t need to give Gina ideas.
She scowled at me. “These are things you should know. Was he wearing a ring?” she asked.
“Nope, not that I saw.”
“Hmm ... well didn’t you say you still need a date to your brother’s wedding?”
I groaned. If only I hadn’t chickened out. “Yeah, don’t remind me.” I looked at the clock. “I need to go check on my patient in room two. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Maybe you can ask him.” Gina’s parting shot followed me down the hall.
Luckily the rest of our shift was filled with laboring mothers and demanding partners otherwise I’m sure I would have gotten an earful about asking Chase to the wedding. We had a rush of deliveries, including one that turned into an emergency C-section. One mother’s labor moved so quickly I almost had to deliver the baby in the hall, but we moved her into a room with her OB just in time. After the excitement of meeting Chase and a shift spent on the run between patients, I was exhausted. I made my last rounds before wishing Gina a good night and clocking out.
“Hey, Vicki and I want to have you over for dinner on our next weekend off. We can celebrate your belated birthday and use it as an excuse to eat more cake. Can you make it?”
The prospect of an evening spent with Gina and Vicki with the added bonus of dessert immediately caught my attention. I loved Gina’s wife, Vicki. And cake. Vicki was an instructor at a local technical college. She exuded zen and was peaceful to hang out with. Pretty much Gina’s polar opposite.
“Sure, that sounds great. Just tell me what to bring.”
She grinned back. “How about that handsome author?”
Gina held up her hands at my exasperated expression. “Kidding, kidding. But I think you should ask him to your brother’s wedding.”
At least Gina and my hormones were in violent agreement. If only the dynamic duo could convince my stubborn mouth to push the words out the next time I saw Chase. Finding a segue from nursing to weddings was difficult, but that had never stopped my conversational curveballs before. Thoughts of the stubble framing Chase’s sensual mouth and his broody author eyes twisted my stomach with nerves. He probably had offers every night of the week. A friendly wedding date was likely the last thing he wanted.
“What are you my friend, or my life coach?”
“Both! Get it, girl. Ask the man. What will it hurt?”
I laughed at her enthusiasm. I was beat, yet Gina still had energy to cheer me on. My feet hurt, and she could probably still run a 10K.
“Goodnight, Gina.”
“Do it,” she whispered back on a laugh.
When I got home, I checked my phone. I had another message from Chase.
@TamraRN Hope I didn’t scare you away today. Would like to treat you to dinner and pick your brain more. Sunday, 6pm?
I bit my lip. I knew what Gina’s answer would be. My racing pulse at the thought of being close to him again was its own answer. Plus, I had that pesky favor to ask. Even if he was only asking me over in a professional capacity, I wanted to help him with his book. He’d offered to cook, and I couldn’t turn that down. I contemplated picking a more neutral location, but part of me was curious to see how h
e lived. Get to know the real Chase. Gina would have my back if he turned out to be a creeper. She’d pry the details of our next meeting out of me even if I didn’t volunteer them for safety. It was worth the risk.
@VirginiaRothman Sure. Send me your address and tell me what I can bring. Hint: store-bought items highly recommended. My kitchen skills aren’t up to yours yet.
MY THIRD POLE DANCING class tested my newfound comfort with my own sensuality. I’d been working hard to perfect my back-leg hook spin, and I’d managed it perfectly twice. The thrill of accomplishment carried me through the rest of our pole drills.
Just as I was ready to practice the basic routine that combined our spins and dance choreography, Meghan dropped a bombshell. “Sometimes it’s fun to play around with new elements. Today I want to challenge you to add a shirt peel to your routine. Do what you’re comfortable with and know this is a safe space. Maybe tug on your shirt a little if a full removal feels like too much.”
I breathed a sigh of relief at the second option. My sports bra offered plenty of coverage, but judging from how my classmates were shifting and avoiding eye contact, it might take a time or ten before we were ready to remove clothing together.
Meghan turned on a sultry ballad and went through a demo of her own while we all watched from the wall. She started with her back to us, facing the opposite wall of the studio. As the intro to the musical piece picked up, she began to sway, side to side, slowly lifting one side of her tank top and inching it up before dropping it to place her hands against the wall. Her palms caressed the textured drywall, gliding up before sweeping around in a turn that put her back to the wall. As she circled her hips, again her hands came to the bottom of her shirt, slowly bringing it up her body. It was deliberate and sexy. She was seducing us with the hint of what was to come. Her head dropped in a dramatic hair toss, and as her head came back up, her hands stripped her shirt up and over. Using one shoulder, she pushed off against the wall, dropping and dragging her tank top behind her as she strutted to the pole.
Mister Romance Page 8