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one
Maisie Hoffman satdown on the bench in front of her locker and sighed heavily. Her feet ached, her back was sore, and her temples throbbed. She rubbed them with her index and middle finger while keeping her eyes closed. She was tired. Beat, even. Both mentally and physically. When she started in the emergency department, it was a three-day work week, but since there was a global shortage of nurses, this soon turned into five, sometimes six days a week. As much as she hated the long hours, she loved the overtime in her check.
Today was a rare day, one that didn’t happen often. Maisie worked her normal twelve-hour shift in the emergency department and looked forward to having a day off. Tomorrow, she would stay in her sweats, lie on the couch watching reruns ofLaw & Order SVU, and eat her way through the last of her winter depression. She was ready for spring. Days with more light, more sun, and the promise of warm weather. Maisie loved watching flowers bloom and hearing the birds chirp overhead. For the past few years, a robin nested in her carport and every year hatched four to five babies. Maisie always put bird food out for the mama, making it easier for her to feed her babies.
She finally stood, emptied the pockets of her hospital-issued scrubs before taking them off and tossing them into the bin for washing, and slipped one of her multiple pairs of shoes into a bag before putting them in her locker. Maisie dressed in the outfit she had shown up to work in, which was pretty much what she wore every day—yoga pants, tank top, and a hoodie—and slipped her feet into the recovery shoes she had recently purchased. On her way out, her phone chimed with a text from her best friend, who was also her roommate.
Dorian
Can you stop on your way home and pick up cookie dough, soda, and tampons?
Maisie looked at the message and wanted to cry. She was exhausted and wanted to crawl into bed and sleep after a long, hot shower. But Dorian needed her, and they would do anything for each other. Maisie could suck it up for another ten minutes or however long it took for her to get what her bestie needed. She typed that she would stop and then pocketed her phone. She wanted to go home, have a hot bath, and crawl into bed.
She drove to the small store close to the apartment she shared with Dorian and parked as far away from the entrance as she could. Even though she was on her feet all day, Maisie took every opportunity to get in some extra steps. She enjoyed eating her weight in sweets and the last thing she needed was to have to buy new yoga pants to fit over her growing ass.
The quaint store was her and Dorian’s emergency only store because of the high prices. It was a unique, family-owned business. They had a model train that ran overhead, an amazing bakery department, as well as a deli and hot food counter. But to buy everyday groceries there would break their bank. This was one of those places you’d go to if you needed a quick gift or a beautiful floral arrangement. If you needed to cook a big dinner, however, you’d drive across town to a full-fledged grocery store.
The smell of freshly baked pie hit Maisie the moment she walked into the store. Her stomach growled loud and obnoxiously. She placed her hand over her midsection hoping to deafen the gurgle, but the woman behind Maisie heard the rumble.
“God, that was embarrassing.” Maisie met the eyes of the woman behind her and shrugged. Her stomach wanted pie, and pie it would have.
Maisie opted to forgo getting a cart, which she later regretted. It was one thing to go to the store to get one or two items, but now she balanced a full pie, a box of feminine products, and a roll of cookie dough, all while trying to crouch down to get a twelve pack of soda. For the life of her, she never understood why they didn’t stock the soda packages correctly. It made sense to her that the middle part, where her hand would go, should always face upward, and not on its side.
She gave up and worked her way back toward the front to get a basket, mumbling to herself the entire time that she hoped there was one there, otherwise she’d have to put her stuff down and get one from outside the store where they were usually kept.
If Maisie hadn’t turned the corner at the exact moment she had, she would’ve missed the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen with his shaggy brown hair. He winked at her as he pushed his cart in front of her and she sized up his well over six-foot height frame which was mandatory for her. She had an odd standard when it came to height. Her partner had to be taller than her, much taller, because she liked being the little spoon. Maisie was already in love.
This was her moment. Her meet cute. Her kismet. She opened her mouth to say hello, but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, her eyes did the work for her and stayed on him as he passed by her and headed toward another aisle.
Maisie couldn’t take her eyes off him, even if it was his backside, no matter how hard she tried. He had on a darker than royal blue, but not quite navy suit, with a red tie. His presence screamed power and her lady bits begged her to chase after him.
So she did.
Maisie followed him down the aisle, ditched the junk food and tampons on the closest shelf, and straightened out her clothes. When he stopped, she leaned to the side and took stock of what he had in his cart: apple and orange juice, vegetables for a salad, and a loaf of bread. This man ate healthily. Unlike Maisie and Dorian, who liked to binge on ice cream and whatever sweets they could get their hands on.
He turned around and smiled at Maisie. She froze and may or may not have smiled back. For all she knew it was a half grin that made her look constipated. She turned and looked at the shelf. They were in the canned veggies section. Maisie reached for a can of creamed corn. It was something she hadn’t eaten since she was a child but in that moment, she found it to be the most interesting can she’d ever seen in her life.
Out of her peripheral vision, she saw her man move, and she followed, like the stalker she was. Maisie needed a moment or ten to muster up enough courage to speak to him. Her heart was beating wildly as she thought about what she would say and how he would respond.
And then she thought about his voice. Was it husky? Or deep? Or was he well spoken and eloquent? She hoped for the first option. Did he have an accent? Living in New England, an accent was almost guaranteed. Even though she didn’t think she had one, the out-of-town patients she had met in the emergency department often said she did.
They went down the next aisle and feeling a bit more brazen, Maisie stepped in front of the man with the sole purpose of checking his left hand. If he had a ring, she’d bail. She would give up. Maisie wasn’t a homewrecker. Still, she needed to get his attention somehow.
When Maisie saw him reading the label on a box, she attempted to reach for something on the top shelf. Her short stature worked in her advantage when he leaned over and grabbed the item for her.
“Here ya go,” he said in the smoothest voice she had ever heard. Those few words were like butter to her, and the comparison had her instantly imagining his voice whispering words that melted decadently over her body, much like she wished other parts of him did. Lost in her fantasy her hands loosened on the item and she dropped the box.
They both bent down to pick it up.
“Ouch,” they said in unison as they smacked their heads together. Mr. Butter prevailed, thanks to his long arms, and handed the box back to Maisie while he held his hand against his head. Definitely no ring.
“I am so sorry,” she said. “Would you like me to look at the wound? I’m a nurse.” The second the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to hurl. He didn’t have a wound and it was highly unlikely he even had a bump. They conked heads, nothing more.
“I think I’m fine.”
“You are,” she said and then immediately regretted her verbal vomit.What in the hell is wrong with you?Clearly, Maisie had forgotten how to flirt.
He nodded, reached for his cart, and left the aisle.
