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Josh stepped back and allowed me to set my dog up on the exam table.

“It looks like Esmerelda has made a full recovery,” he said after he’d checked everything out.

He handed Esmerelda a soft treat from the jar on the counter. “You just need to stay away from squirrels and Dobermans, okay girl?”

There was a strange kind of awkwardness in the air as we finished the appointment. Even though Joshua gave Esmerelda a clean bill of health, he recommended that I bring her back soon for a full physical.

“Just let my receptionist Elaine know that I want you to schedule with me,” he said, his voice a little gravelly.

I must have looked confused because he said, “Other than some long-time patients, I normally only take emergency cases. But I’ll make an exception for Esmerelda.”

I didn’t know what to make of that, so I just said, “Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

He looked at me for another long moment before adding, “I’ll see you later.”

For some reason I felt bereft when he left the treatment room, which was ridiculous. I had the strangest sense that he’d been about to say something else and then changed his mind.

I replayed the exchange over and over for the rest of the day, even when I was trying to do some work for my freelance clients. The distraction irritated me. I wasn’t the kind of woman who daydreamed about guys like this.

Several hours later I was in the lobby at Starlight Pi, a funky math-themed restaurant that had the best pizza in town, when I heard a deep voice behind me.

“Getting some dinner?”

I turned my head slowly, somehow unsurprised to find Dr. Joshua Martin standing behind me. For some reason it seemed inevitable that we’d run into each other again, and not just because Starlight Bay was a small town.

“Yes, Friday night is pizza night. It’s a tradition I started after my divorce.”

“Your husband wasn’t a fan of pizza?” he asked.

“No, he wasn’t a fan of pizza. Or basically anything that brought me joy,” I said with a tinge of bitterness I couldn’t quite hide.

I didn’t add that my ex-husband also wasn’t a fan of anything that made me “chunky” as he put it. My husband had been obsessed with appearance, especially mine. It’s why Joshua’s comments on my snack choices the other day irritated me so much. And the way he’d eyed my ice cream cone when we saw each other outside of Scoops.

“I think everyone should have a pizza night tradition,” he said. “It should be the law or something.”

Then the most amazing thing happened – he smiled. Not just a quirk of the lips but a full-fledged, white teeth, slightly crooked, dimple activating smile. For a second I forgot about breathing, standing mesmerized at the sight of that smile.

Which is why I found myself asking, “Would you like to join me?”

“I’d love to.”

The hostess seated up in a booth in the corner. I slid onto a bench seat across from Josh. I’d been carrying Esmerelda in a shoulder bag and I set it down on the bench seat she scooted out, circled around a few times, and promptly fell asleep on top of the bag.

“I don’t think dogs are allowed in the restaurant,” Joshua said.

“If anyone asks she’s a service dog,” I said.

He gave me a look that I couldn’t interpret. Clearly this guy was a straight arrow, one of those rule followers that made the rest of us miserable. I thought he’d say more about Esmerelda being in the restaurant, but instead he just said, “What kind of pizza do you like?”

After some debate we settled on a vegetarian pizza.

“It’s like salad and pizza put together,” I told him brightly.

Joshua rolled his lips in, like he wanted to smile but thought he shouldn’t. But he didn’t argue with my choice.

“I’m glad that Esmerelda is all healed up,” he said after we’d placed our order.

“Yeah, she seems to be doing fine,” I agreed. “None the worse for the wear after her adventure.”