27 Ways to Find a Boyfriend

by Tapscott, Shari L.

  No surprise, her scowl is replaced with a pleasant smile. She ends her call and sweetly says, “What can I do for you?”

  “My friend had an accident, and she needs to see a doctor.”

  The woman nods, super helpful now. She grabs a form and a pen. “Tell me exactly what we’re seeing you for.”

  I chew on my lip, not wanting to say it out loud. “I fell…”

  She looks up and raises one brow. “Could you give me a little more than that, honey?”

  Honey.

  She’s like, maybe, two years older than me. Tops.

  Reading my face, Carter flashes me a swift grin before he turns to the woman and says, “We’re worried she injured her tailbone.”

  The woman fills out the form and asks for my insurance information and ID. When she’s finished, she says, “You can take a seat now. Someone will be with you shortly.”

  Which of course means five or six hours in ER lingo.

  I must have a funny look on my face because she purses her lips, thinking for a moment, before she says, “I don’t suppose you want to sit right now, do you?”

  After I glance at the molded plastic chairs in the waiting room, I look back at her.

  “Not really,” I say quietly, wondering if that will hurry the whole process along. Surely, they’ll take pity on a woman who can’t sit, right?

  The receptionist gives me a sympathetic nod, though I suspect she’s trying not to laugh. “I’ll be right back.”

  With that, she disappears into the back. She returns a moment later, carrying a pillow with a hole in the middle. “Here you go, honey, this should make you a little more comfortable while you wait.”

  I stare at it like it’s a snake. Trying to contain his smirk, but doing a poor job of it, Carter accepts the pillow and thanks the woman for offering it.

  “After you,” he says to me, using the offensive donut to gesture to the waiting room.

  “I’m not happy with you,” I say under my breath. “I could be at home, on the couch, suffering in silence, with my dignity intact.”

  Carter chuckles and sets the pillow on one of the seats. I stare at it, slowly shaking my head. “Nope. Not happening. I’ll stand.”

  “Ah, come on, Addison,” he says, using a tone that reminds me of a pre-school teacher. “It’s not that bad.”

  It is though. It really is.

  Since I know it’s inevitable we’re going to be here for a while, I give in. My tailbone still hurts, but it would be a lot more painful to sit on the chair directly.

  I glance at my phone and then push it back into my purse. The cell phone service is nonexistent in the waiting room.

  Carter and I end up looking at magazines to pass the time, but eventually, even that gets old.

  I yawn when we hit the two-hour mark. “We’re going to need to leave if they don’t call me soon,” I say. “Cocoa is still outside. I don’t know how he’ll do all by himself in the dark for this long.”

  Instead of arguing that the dog is fine, Carter pats my knee and stands. “I’ll see if I can get service in the parking lot. If I can, I’ll call Jessa and have her swing by your house to check on him.”

  “Don’t you dare tell her what happened.”

  “You know she’s going to ask.”

  I groan and wave him away. He’s gone for a while, but when he returns, he’s holding two steaming cups of cafeteria coffee. I don’t know if it’s because I’m that tired, or because it’s ten at night and we’re in the middle of the sterile waiting room, surrounded by injured people and a man who looks disturbingly gray, but the coffee is as inviting as liquid gold.

  “Thank you,” I breathe, holding my hands out for the cup like a greedy toddler. Gimme.

  “No problem.” Carter settles in next to me.

  At five minutes after ten, my eyes get heavy. The pain in my tailbone cranks up another level, most likely aching from sitting so long. I rest my head against the wall behind us and close my eyes.

  “Come here,” Carter says softly, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and coaxing me to lay my head on him. It feels so good; I’d crawl on his lap and curl up like a cat if I could.

  “Wake me when they’re ready,” I tell him, and then I let myself drift.

  14

  I shift a little to get more comfortable when Addison’s breathing slows and becomes even. Her cheek is nestled next to my shoulder, and she’s warm at my side. I could stay here, just like this, all night. My joints would be as stiff as an old man’s in the morning, but it would be worth it.

  I’ve been avoiding Addison all week, and I’m pretty sure she knows it. I thought keeping some distance between us would help. When I saw her with Heath at the tennis courts, a jealous beast roared in my chest, and I was seeing green.

  This girl has trouble written all over her, but for some reason, I can’t convince myself to stay away.

  I wasn’t planning on going to class tonight—I knew it would be smarter if I didn’t. But at the last minute, I couldn’t help myself. When I saw her pressed up against Gio, it was like Heath all over again.

  But she’s not with Gio now, and not because he didn’t offer. She wanted me, not him.

  I rub a hand over her shoulder and play with a strand of her curled hair. She’s gotten under my skin.

  “Addison?” A nurse calls from the open door.

  I hold up my hand to let her know we’re here, and then I gently wake Addison. She blinks several times and lifts her head, meeting my eyes. She’s still half asleep, and her face is close enough I could lean down and kiss her.

  “They’re ready for you,” I say instead of acting on that impulse.

  “Oh.” She groans when she tries to stand.

  I leap to my feet and take her hands in mine, gently pulling her up.

  “I’m okay,” she insists, waving me away when she’s standing, and we head for the nurse.

  The woman gives me an apologetic smile. “Family only, I’m afraid.”

  Addison’s face goes pale. It’s pretty obvious she doesn’t want to go in by herself, so I wrap my hand around her shoulder. “I’m her boyfriend,” I say, not pausing to revel in how good that feels. Then I lean a fraction of an inch closer to the nurse. “And just between you and me, I’ll probably marry her someday. So that’s as good as family, right?”

  The nurse presses her lips together, trying not to smile. I’m pretty sure she knows I’m full of it. She glances at Addison and then rolls her eyes—but in a thoroughly charmed way.

  Mission accomplished.

  “All right,” she finally says. “Follow me.”

  She leads us into a large room that’s separated into private cubicles by a network of curtains. When we reach ours, she tells Addison to take a seat on the bed.

  Grudgingly, Addison sets her donut pillow down first. When she’s settled, the nurse takes her temperature and then presses two fingers against her wrist to check her pulse.

  “Are you nervous?” she asks, glancing up. “Your pulse is racing.”

  Addison’s eyes fly to mine, and her cheeks go bright pink. She rips her gaze away and looks at her lap. “I get nervous in hospitals.”

  The nurse nods, sympathetic. “That’s all right. Lots of people do.”

  Finished taking Addison’s stats, she types a few things into the computer. I stand to the side, trying to hold in a smug look. One thing is for certain; I’ve thrown Addison off-kilter.

  The nurse turns from the computer and pushes through the curtain, saying, “The doctor will be with you shortly.”

  “Boyfriend?” Addison asks, avoiding my eyes.

  I don’t even bother to hide my smirk anymore. “You didn’t want to come in alone, did you?”

  For just a moment, our eyes meet again, but Addison looks away just as quickly as before. “No.”

  Before either of us can say anything else, a doctor calls, “Knock, knock,” from outside the fabric partition.

  “Come on in,” I say.

&
nbsp; He pulls the curtain aside and steps inside, his eyes on his clipboard. “You must be Addis—”

  Heath stops abruptly and looks from me to his patient—the one who looks like she wants to crawl under the bed.

  You have got to be freaking kidding me. The tennis-playing, Dalmatian owner is a doctor?

  A slow smile spreads across Heath’s face as if he’s pleased by his luck, and he gives Addison his full attention.

  I don’t care if he is a doctor, I swear if he says something stupid about her injuring herself just to see him, I’ll probably deck him.

  I’m just saying.

  “Your paperwork says you think you’ve injured your tailbone?” Heath asks, keeping things professional—saving himself from a broken nose and not even realizing it.

  Addison clasps her hands in her lap and begins to shake her head. “I think it’s fine, actually. Much better than when we first arrived.” She pins me with her eyes, begging me to help her escape. “We should go.”

  As much as I don’t want Heath examining her, I know she needs to be looked at.

  “Addison…” I start, not sure how to finish.

  Heath rubs the back of his neck, trying not to smile. “It’s awkward, right? Do you want me to see if I can find someone else? We’re a little short-staffed this evening, but I’ll do what I can.”

  “It’s fine,” she squeaks, waving away his concern in a nonchalant manner that would be believable if she didn’t sound like she just sucked down helium. “Do what you need to.”

  Heath slowly nods and looks back at her chart. “Have you taken anything for the pain?”

  “Uh…well…”

  “Two tablets of children’s ibuprofen,” I say.

  Addison glares at me, but I smile back.

  The doctor looks up. “Children’s?”

  “It’s all I had,” she says, tossing her hands in the air.

  “We’ll see if we can get you something a little stronger.” He looks back at the clipboard and motions to the rolling tray by her bed. “I need you to change into the gown.”

  As if we’re synchronized, we all turn to face the folded piece of blue material. Addison looks about ready to pass out from mortification.

  Heath clears his throat. “After that, we’ll take you in for x-rays.”

  “You don’t have to examine me?” she blurts out, surprising everyone in the flimsy room, including herself. She blanches and then stares at her hands.

  Heath bites back a smile. “I’ll take a look at your spine when I get back. Unless you want me to do it now?”

  That son of a—

  “I’m good,” she answers immediately.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he promises, and then he disappears, closing the curtain behind him.

  I cross my arms and stare after the doctor, drumming my fingers on my bicep.

  “Carter,” Addison says, and I turn back to her.

  “What?”

  She widens her eyes and points to the gown. “Get out.”

  “Oh, right.” I shake my head and hurry through the curtain.

  15

  If I write an autobiography down the road, this night will go down as my most humiliating. I might have a dozen more before I’m eighty, but believe me when I say this one is going to be hard to top.

  “I have good news,” Dr. Cameron—AKA Heath—says when he steps into the makeshift room. “Your x-rays look good—and as far as I can tell, you haven’t fractured anything.”

  I let out a great big sigh of relief.

  “The bad news is you’ll probably be pretty tender for a while. You’ll likely notice some bruising, and it’s going to be painful to sit. I’m afraid that pillow is going to become your best friend.” He steps forward and hands me a piece of paper. “I have a handout of home treatments for you to try.”

  I nod, eager to get out of here. The painkillers are making it hard to concentrate on what he’s saying, and I’m feeling a little out of it.

  “If the pain doesn’t go away in a week, I want you to make an appointment with your regular physician.” He looks at his clipboard. “Dr. Marden can do a few more exams that I’m pretty sure you’re not going to be comfortable with tonight.”

  “Like what?” Carter asks, narrowing his eyes as if insinuating I got sub-par care.

  Heath turns to him, looking like he’s trying not to laugh. “Specifically? A rectal exam to check for the location of the coccyx and determine if it’s dislocated.”

  I’m going to be very honest with you. I nearly wet the hospital bed at the thought of Heath getting anywhere near my…rectal…region.

  Carter doesn’t look any more excited about the idea than me, and he gives the doctor a curt nod. “So we can go?”

  Heath laughs under his breath and nods. “I have the release paperwork right here.”

  Thank goodness.

  Before he leaves, Heath hesitates by the curtain. He glances back, looking like he wants to ask me something.

  “What?” I ask, nervous.

  Please don’t say you need to do the exam after all.

  “You’re Addison Kentford?”

  Relieved, I nod. Heath either knows, or knows of, my dad. That’s not a big deal. I get that a lot.

  “So then your dad is Gary Kentford?”

  “That’s right.”

  Heath’s smile becomes more of a friendly smirk, and Carter stands a little straighter, not liking something about the doctor’s expression.

  “He was in a few weeks ago,” Heath says, stepping back into the cubicle. “His wife thought he broke a bone in his foot and wanted him to get an x-ray, though it was obvious he didn’t want to be here.”

  The drape-enclosed room feels as though it’s beginning to shrink, and my neck and cheeks grow warm. I have the worst feeling I know where this is going.

  “You’re the ‘podiatrist’ he’s trying to set me up with?” I manage.

  “I’m not a podiatrist, but I saw him the afternoon he came in. And, yes, he said he’d like me to go out with his daughter.” Heath chuckles, and then he looks at Carter, though he’s still talking to me. “Of course, he must not be aware that you have a boyfriend who’s ‘probably going to marry’ you in the future.”

  Carter’s smile is subtle and slightly…feral. I wouldn’t particularly want to be on the receiving end of it, but Heath doesn’t flinch.

  “I…uh…” I begin, but I have nothing. It’s late, and I’m too flustered to be eloquent. “If you happen to talk to him, maybe don’t mention that Carter and I were here? Together. Please?”

  Heath laughs. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  Carter narrows his eyes slightly, and I know I need to get him out of here.

  Before he leaves, the doctor pulls a business card from his clipboard and hands it to me. “But if you ever find yourself single, or in need of a good examination…feel free to give me a call.”

  With a smile, Heath disappears through the curtain.

  With my cheeks flaming, I turn to Carter. He looks both mildly amused and like he wants to punch someone. Trying to dispel the awkwardness, I joke, “Is it the painkillers talking, or did the doctor just hit on me?”

  Carter ends up snorting, shaking his head as he gives into a smile. He pulls me to my feet. “This list thing is out of control. Apparently, I need to get you home before someone proposes marriage.”

  “I think you already did that.”

  It was supposed to be funny—like, haha, remember what you told the nurse? But with the drugs in my system, this probably isn’t the best time for me to attempt humor.

  As soon as I say the words, Carter’s eyes accidentally meet mine. My stomach clenches, and I attempt to laugh it away. Instead, all I manage is a breathy exhale. My eyes drift to his mouth, his lips. They look soft but firm. Inviting. I want to trace the bow of his top lip with my finger.

  “You smelled like cinnamon gum,” I say absently.

  “Excuse me?” I watch as his lips curve in
to a crooked smile.

  “When you kissed me. You smelled like cinnamon gum.” I bite the side of my lip. “I keep wondering if the kiss had lasted longer, if we hadn’t been surrounded by people…would you have tasted like cinnamon too?”

  He swallows. “You’re feeling a little loopy, aren’t you?”

  “A little,” I admit.

  He wraps an arm around my back, helping me through the curtain. “Let’s get you home.”

  * * *

  We get back to my house well after midnight. Thankfully, Jessa remembered to turn on my outdoor lights when she checked on Cocoa, so I’m not stumbling in the dark.

  “What about your truck?” I ask Carter as I attempt to slide my key into the lock. I can’t find the keyhole.

  Taking pity on me after multiple unsuccessful attempts, Carter takes the keys and opens the door.

  “I’ll pick it up tomorrow,” he says, staring at me as if he’s thinking entirely too hard about something.

  It takes me a moment, but I realize what the problem is. How is he going to get home?

  The moment we walk through the door, Cocoa greets us. The puppy runs in circles, happy to see us, looking awfully awake for the late hour. He’s probably been sleeping the whole time we were gone.

  “So…” I say when Carter closes the door behind us. The house is quiet. “Do you want to borrow my car?”

  He watches me, not answering yet.

  “Or you could”–Why is my mouth so dry?—“stay on the couch.”

  When Carter still doesn’t answer, I hastily add, “Because it’s so late. I thought you might want to crash here. It’s fine if you don’t—“

  “Do you want me to stay, Addison?”

  Do I?

  I avert my eyes. “It seems like a good solution. In the morning, we can drive to the community center together so you can pick up your truck.”

  “Do you have an extra pillow?”

  My eyes slide to his, and the air thickens. “Yes. And blankets.”