Love at First Laugh: Eight Romantic Novellas Filled with Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever After

by Krista Phillips

  Maverick ground his teeth together.

  “She’s a looker alright. Good at her job, too. I did some checking.”

  Maverick thought about throwing the rest of his coffee at Whitehall, but the drink was too good for that. What else could he throw? The table didn’t even have a napkin dispenser on it. The place could afford a bouncer but not weaponry for the tables? What a waste.

  Whitehall tossed a twenty down onto the table and slid out of the booth. “I enjoyed our little chat. Take your time finishing the coffee.”

  Maverick took a sip of the drink in question, but the velvety smooth flavor of a moment ago was gone. It tasted like chalk. Either that, or the agent’s questions about Lia had pushed all his buttons.

  Maverick headed back into the crisp night air. Who exactly was Agent Whitehall, anyway? And why was he poking his nose into Maverick’s business?

  Chapter 13

  “Promise!”

  Lia’s head snapped up at the sound of her last name being yelled. Dr. Zagel was on duty today. That meant the chances of her getting a real lunch break were slim to none. Good thing she’d managed a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast.

  She took a deep breath and jogged toward the doctor. “Where do you need me?”

  “Show Johnson how to suture or that woman in there’s going to end up looking like Frankenstein.”

  Mallory Johnson was the trainee who’d ended up with blood in her mouth following a botched IV attempt. At least she hadn’t given up on the job after that incident. It helped that the patient’s bloodwork had all been clean. It would all be for nothing, though, if Dr. Z kept after her like he was doing.

  Lia unclenched her jaw. “Frankenstein’s monster.”

  “What?” Dr. Zagel’s eyebrows drew together like two hairy moths toward an invisible flame.

  “Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster.”

  His eyes widened, and color climbed his neck. Dr. Zagel wasn’t used to being questioned, let alone corrected. Before the building steam could erupt, Lia slipped away from him and into cubicle 6B. “How’s it going in here?”

  The cubicle’s curtain barely provided privacy. Blocking out sound was beyond impossible. So it was no surprise that Johnson stood with her needle half in and half out of a woman’s right cheek while the patient’s wide eyes and chalky-white skin spoke of her terror. Somebody needed to teach Dr. Z some bedside manners, or, if nothing else, how to whisper.

  Lia stepped up to the foot of the bed and looked the patient in the eyes. “Nurse Johnson here is doing a fabulous job. Ignore Dr. Zagel. He wasn’t hugged enough as a child. You’re in great hands.”

  Mallory started moving the needle again, completing that suture and progressing to the next. Her hands shook, but her stitch work was solid, so Lia kept up her meant-to-be-soothing monologue.

  “You’re going to be swollen for a while, and your face is going to look rough. Once the swelling goes down and the stitches are removed, it’ll get better. You can come back to the ER to get your stitches out, or you can go to your family physician. Either way, just be sure to ask for suggestions about how to minimize any scarring. There are a lot of miracle-working topical ointments on the market. You don’t want to apply any of those until you’re healed, though. Otherwise they could hurt more than they help.”

  Nurse Johnson got the last suture into place and tied off. “There you go, Miss Hampton. All done with the suturing. The doctor will want to come back in and take a peek. In the meantime, I’ll print out your paperwork so you can go home.”

  Johnson stepped out of the cubicle, Lia on her heels. “Thank you.”

  “We’ve all been new before, and we’ve all gotten on Dr. Zagel’s bad side. Don’t worry about it. Go start the paperwork, and I’ll let him know the suturing’s complete.”

  Nurse Johnson headed off toward the printer as she tapped information into her tablet. Lia circled around and scanned the bullpen for Dr. Zagel’s distinct hairstyle.

  Aha! The overgrown black pompadour — which Dr. Z claimed was a rebellion against the haircut he’d had in the Army — bobbed up and down as the doctor berated a technician. “The suturing’s done in 6B. Did you want to examine the work, or should we release her?”

  His head snapped up, his eyes darker than usual. “I want to see it.” Without bothering to finish his complaint against the technician, the doctor headed toward 6B. Lia jogged to keep up. Something sure had gotten itself stuck in Dr. Zagel’s craw. He always held everyone to his exacting standards, but today was worse than normal. A standing joke in the nurse’s locker room was whether or not Dr. Z was wearing his cranky pants. His present attitude, though, made cranky pants seem like sunshine and daisies. What had he put on today? His ogre pants? Angry pants? Meany pants? None of them did his current mood justice.

  Lia arrived at 6B as Johnson approached from the other side and the doctor stepped back out of the cubicle. He shook a finger at the trainee. “You need to learn to suture like Promise here. That’s skillful work. I hope you paid attention.”

  He stormed off in search of his next victim while Johnson’s stare moved from Lia to the curtained cubicle. “He thinks you did it?”

  “Not on purpose. I couldn’t keep up with him. He was already coming out by the time I got here.”

  Johnson’s face split in a grin. “Are you kidding me? I don’t care if he knows I put in the sutures. He thinks you did it. Every time I’ve done something that didn’t meet Dr. Z’s expectation, he’s told me I should pay more attention to you. And he thinks the work in there is yours. My day is made. My whole week, for that matter.”

  Lia grinned at the younger nurse. “Glad I could help.”

  “Do I get to see this fancy stitch work anytime soon?” The voice came from within the cubicle. “Or are you too busy congratulating yourself out there?”

  Lia gave Mallory a shove toward the cubicle before heading back across the bullpen to the patient she’d left in order to help with the stitches, but a nagging thought took the usual bounce from her step. The suturing was good enough for Dr. Z only because he believed Lia had done the work. Why did that bother her so much?

  That night when Lia got home, she pulled up her Holy Hearts profile and examined it. The time had come to make some changes. The scene with Dr. Zagel had haunted her all day until she’d finally realized why it continued to nag at her subconscious.

  The stitching was adequate only because he thought she’d done it. It was a silly, small thing. Yet it spoke to everything she was struggling with in her own heart.

  Appearances were more important than they should be. What people thought they saw influenced their thinking as much as what they actually saw. She wasn’t sure how that fit into the dating world, but Lia was certain about one thing. It was time to block her picture. If people wanted to reach out to her — or respond to her HeartGrams — fine. She was tired of ending up on dates with men, though, whose first words were about how they’d always dreamed of dating a redhead.

  Lia changed a couple of other things while she was in her profile, too. Then she sat back, studied her new pictureless profile, and took a deep breath. She could do this. She could not care about appearances — hers or anyone else’s. Which meant she needed to consider men without pictures. She’d always responded to them when they reached out to her, but she’d never initiated contact with any. A new outlook on dating, though, would be wasted if she wasn’t willing to try some new things.

  The photographs people used weren’t always honest, anyway. Take Baldric, for example. His picture showcased a full head of hair. Or — shudder — the Network Elf. His picture clearly predated his couch potato days.

  Nope. Pictures often lied. Better to start going with profiles that didn’t show one. Less opportunity for dishonesty that way.

  Lia glanced through a handful of the profiles before sending off a short message to two who interested her. Maybe it would turn into something. There was only one way to find out.

  For the f
irst time since she’d started on this whole online quest, she wasn’t drowning in dating stress. She savored the anxiety-free moment and appreciated it like the gift it was.

  When she took a step back and looked, she had to admit her life was pretty fantastic. She loved her job, her family, her friends, and her church. Her days were full even if her nights sometimes felt lonely.

  She snapped the computer closed and headed into her bathroom to take a shower. Before she reached for the knob, she stopped and peered at herself in the mirror. She had a few more lines around her eyes than most women her age. Dad said it was because she had an easy laugh. He also said her future husband would find those lines attractive. Mom said she should use more moisturizer.

  Lia leaned close to the mirror and tugged the skin tight around her eyes. It made her look like a fish, but it didn’t miraculously make her face any younger. And she was fine with that. Hm.

  Her counselor believed her problem with food had started back up, not because she’d been unhappy with her appearance, but because she’d been afraid no one would love her for who she was on the inside. She didn’t agree with him, but she didn’t disagree, either.

  She knew who she was in Christ, and He loved her. He was enough for her. So why did she continue to seek more? Even when they were wrong, why did she let the comments of her dates burrow so deeply into her soul? It defied logic.

  But then, eating disorders in general weren’t always rational. They were in a twisted makes-sense-at-the-time kind of way. When the light of common sense shined on them, though, it became apparent eating disorders were a symptom that rarely seemed to fit the actual problem. Just look at her. She was a nurse, for pity’s sake. She understood the importance of nutrition and a balanced diet. Yet there she was, struggling to put the monster of anorexia back in its box. She might be able to excuse her behavior when she was a kid, but she was all grown up now.

  Which in a strange way brought her full circle and back to the question she’d started with. Why had she reverted to old habits and ways of thinking when she so clearly knew better?

  She hadn’t figured out why yet, but she would get to the heart of the matter eventually. In the meantime, she was making sure she ate nutritious meals, and she’d hidden her profile picture. She smiled at her reflection. She’d have put her photo under lock and key ages ago if she’d known how freeing it would be.

  It might feel like baby steps to someone else, but for her, those two changes were huge.

  Lia hummed as she started the shower.

  Chapter 14

  Maverick eyed his Holy Hearts inbox. He had a HeartGram from Ophelia and a message from Holy Hearts. The subject of the latter — Fundraising Details — made dread pool in his stomach, so he opened the one from Ophelia instead. He couldn’t remember when she’d first messaged him, but they’d exchanged a few HeartGrams so far, and he kind of liked her.

  Okay, more than kind of, but since he wasn’t really looking for a relationship, the whole thing confused him.

  Hey there,

  How’s it going? Did you read the info about the auction? You should sign up. The money is going to a worthy cause.

  I realized recently that you’re the second Rick I’ve met on here that works with computers. I had to backtrack and go find the other one just to make sure I wasn’t accidentally picking up the same guy twice. chuckle

  Anything exciting going on at work?

  Work’s decent enough on my end, but I’m struggling with a spiritual question. Why, when we know Jesus is enough, do we continue to seek more? Would love to hear your thoughts.

  Maverick could feel himself moving on from his temporary insanity where Lia was concerned. Ruining their friendship to find out if there was anything more to their relationship was an all-around bad idea.

  It wouldn’t be fair to her, but that was only one reason. The rest were summed up with one word: selfish. Her friendship meant too much to him, pure and simple. He wouldn’t risk it for some crazy hip-noticing moment.

  Hi Ophelia –

  Boring week at work, but I can live with that. Nothing blew up, and nobody got fired. Like I said, all good.

  A friend signed me up for this auction thing. I’d back out if I could find a graceful way to do so. I’d rather donate money than stand on stage for everyone to gawk at.

  There. The cat’s out of the bag. I’m not the adventurous type. At least not when the adventure means being the center of attention. I’m more of a backstage guy.

  As for your question, wow. You don’t ask easy ones, do you? I think we will always long for more until we’re in heaven and in perfect communion with Christ. Since that kind of closeness can’t happen here on earth — it being a fallen world and all — we crave more. The real question isn’t why, but rather how we fulfill the need when it arises. Do we seek fulfillment from man (or woman) or from Christ? Does our desire for something more push us closer to Him or further away?

  Would love to hear your thoughts as well.

  Back to the auction for a minute. Are you coming? Seems like it’s time we met. What do you think?

  Until next time.

  After he sent the HeartGram, Maverick finally reached over with his mouse and double-clicked the subject to open the email.

  Holy Hearts

  and

  Ferito Technology Hospital

  would be honored by your presence

  at a gala celebration and fundraiser

  Join us for

  An Informal Affair

  &

  Bachelor Auction

  (no black ties allowed)

  He marked the date on his calendar and closed the message only to find another one from Holy Hearts waiting for him. Knowing Lia would ask him about it the next time he saw her, he clicked the open button. What he wouldn’t do to get out of this.

  Thank you for participating in An Informal Affair & Bachelor Auction. As one of our registered bachelors, we want to reassure you that we mean what we say. The auction will be an informal affair. Not only are black ties not required, they’re strictly forbidden. In fact, the auction uniform is swimwear. Within the guidelines listed below (including modesty!) we’re asking all our bachelors to show up in their swim trunks. We’d like to have a bit of fun with this event. We look forward to seeing you there!

  What!? Swim trunks?

  Maverick glanced down at his khaki-clad legs. In swim trunks, he’d blind half the people in the audience. Not that he never wore shorts or spent time outside, but they were barely out of winter! Unless they’d all booked time in a tanning booth, every man in attendance should have pasty white legs.

  Great.

  He’d already invited Ophelia, and something in his gut told him this meeting was important.

  What kind of first impression would he make in swim trunks? All kinds of answers flooded Maverick’s mind, and none of them were of the positive variety.

  Maybe Watts would have an idea. She was a girl, wasn’t she? He shot a quick text off to her.

  Meeting a woman at dreaded bachelor auction and just got news that all the men have to be in swimwear. Help! Need ideas so I don’t embarrass myself or blind people.

  There was no immediate reply. The clock on his phone advised him of the late hour. Watts should be…

  Ugh. How could he forget?

  His baby sister had texted him earlier in the day, excited about her first high altitude night jump, and he’d forgotten about it.

  He loved Watts, and he knew she was born to be a paratrooper, but the idea of her jumping out of airplanes still gave him the heebie-jeebies.

  Please keep her safe, God. As much as that girl tries to get into trouble, You’re the only one strong enough to protect her from herself.

  Maverick snapped his laptop closed. It was time for sleep.

  “I might have met someone.”

  Maverick glanced up at Lia as she slid into the booth across from him. “Oh?”

  Traitor that it was, his heart beat a little fas
ter. He wasn’t allowed to be jealous. He’d decided not to pursue Lia, which meant he didn’t have the right to be upset about her seeing someone else.

  “We’re supposed to meet at the auction.”

  Maverick nodded. “Public place. That’s good.”

  “I always do public places. You know that.”

  He pushed the menu toward her. “Safety first. Now, do I get a name?”

  “Rick.”

  “What happened to Rod? Y’all’s date went well, right?”

  Color stained her cheeks. “Um… No spark, I guess. Nothing bad went down.”

  “So tell me about this Rick guy, then. You guys have been messaging for a while, right?”

  “I guess it depends on what you think of as ‘a while,’ but yeah. He’s great. Stable job, sense of humor, and a solid walk with God.”

  Maverick rearranged his silverware. “Sounds like a winner.”

  “We’ll see. I’m almost afraid to get my hopes up, but I like him.”

  “Hm.” He should tell her he’d met someone too, but the words wouldn’t come.

  “And I was thinking.”

  He watched her over the top of the menu he was only pretending to read. “Oh?”

  “Maybe next week we can eat lunch at that Mexican place by the church.”

  Well, blow him up, stick a needle in him, and watch him fly away. “Near church?”

  Her gaze flicked to his face and back to her menu. “Yeah. I need to let some of my hang-ups go. We’re friends. We eat lunch. Trying to hide that from everyone doesn’t make sense. Frankly, I’m surprised you’ve humored me about it for as long as you have.”

  There was no good way to answer. Humoring her made him condescending. If he argued that he hadn’t been humoring her, he was a cad who didn’t want to be seen with her.

  Maverick did what any sane man would do. He waved the waitress down.

  “Let me guess. Double bacon cheeseburger with fries, extra bacon on the side.” The waitress stared at him, one eyebrow raised.

  “Am I that predictable?”

  “Hon, the two of you have been coming here for a year at least. The only thing you’ve ever changed about your order is when you started adding the extra bacon and that short-lived phase where you decided to drink tea for a while.”