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Now that we’re alone, I hope Noah can relax and explain just what the heck is going on here.
He’s a funny one, that Noah Taylor. On some days, I see him winking and buttering up the servers at Ruby’s Diner, who always seem to have an extra slice just for him of their sold-out pies.
On other days, he’s a sweaty and nervous mess. Especially around me.
I’m having flashbacks to college, when my mother told me to act different to attract a man. “Be less intimidating,” Mom would say. I did not follow her instructions.
And right now, I have some questions for Noah Taylor.
“Now, do you have a rash or don’t you?”
“I don’t.”
This guy. “Do you know that I could report you for medical fraud?”
“I…hadn’t thought of that.”
“That won’t look good for an officer of the county,” I say, keeping my tone light and teasing.
“Geez, I really didn’t think through any of my harebrained excuse, did I?”
Wait a minute. “Deputy Taylor, were you pretending to be sick so you would have an excuse to talk to me?”
His rosy cheeks turn a deeper crimson. “Kinda.”
I let that sink in. I don’t know whether to feel complimented by this or put off. I examine this thick-thighed tall drink of water. He has a way with women. I’ve seen it first-hand. Everybody loves this guy, from old church ladies to little kids selling lemonade on the sidewalk in summer. He talks to everyone like they’re his best friends.
“You could have just walked up to me and asked me, instead of getting that quack to prescribe you STI cream.”
He nods and again wipes his lips with the back of his hand. Suddenly he looks like a little boy who’s been caught making spitballs in the back of class. “Yes, ma’am. I see now that would have been the preferred course of action. But you’re…you’re kind of…”
I draw in a deep breath. “If the word ‘intimidating’ comes out of your mouth, then your next words better be to pray to our lord and savior Dolly Parton.”
Noah blinks, and I start to wonder if I said too much. But then, he sort of bends back, grips the top of his hat and barks the loudest laugh ever. That’s the kind of sound you don’t often hear in a pharmacy, and it brightens my mood. Though I’m still waiting for him to finish his explanation.
“I wasn’t going to say that word. I promise,” he says when he recovers his composure.
“What were you going to say, then?” I ask.
He once again scrubs a hand through his hair. Good lord, the man is about to crush his hat. “I was going to say I find it hard to talk to you because your smile is so radiant it makes me forget my own name.”
Well now. No one has ever said anything like that to me before.
I think my toes just shivered inside my loafers, which is quite a feat. No pun intended. “If you have trouble remembering, just ask me. I know everyone’s name,” I say with a wink.
He chuckles again and says, “Then why do I have to reintroduce myself every time I see you?”
“Because I don’t assume you’re picking up cream for your undercarriage for yourself. It could be for someone else. Like your imaginary dog.”
We both laugh, and I now am starting to feel at ease knowing he can take my dumb little jabs.
His eyes crinkle when he smiles at me.
“The truth is, sometimes I pretend not to know your name,” I say.
“Why?” he asks, his elbow on the counter as he leans into me. Flustered, I move away to reorganize some baskets for no reason.
“Because you’re kind of a flirt, in case you didn’t know.”
