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“Am I?”
“Yes,” I say, hiding my blush by turning away to check the locks on some cabinets. “You make all the women in this town giggle like schoolgirls. I can be a bit of a contrarian who does the opposite of what everyone does. Just because.”
“Huh,” he grunts.
“I mean it. I refused to watchAvatarbecause everyone was screaming about it for months and months. I finally saw it, and my instincts were correct. It sucked.”
“Wow.”
A few moments’ silence passes as he considers what I’ve said. I busy myself with tidying up what’s already tidy and other meaningless tasks.
I wait for him to speak. Which is a while.
“You’re the last person I’d want to think I was a flirt.”
I turn toward him and consider what I’ve said. Perhaps I’ve been too judgmental. Maybe he’s just friendly. “Really? Why?”
“I thought it was obvious. I like you. And I think we’d have a good time.”
It will be a good time. I’ve been glancing at the flyer that Juniper, our one-woman downtown booster club, taped to my storefront window weeks ago. Thanks to the generosity of the Wood family, the ball is going to take place at the old Paget mansion, in the third-floor ballroom and terrace. They’ve hired live music, and there will be a silent auction, open bar, and food catered by Ruby’s.
“It’s been a while since I dated, and I don’t know if I remember how to act on dates. I don’t know if I’ll be good company. I’m kind of a reclusive weirdo these days.” Why did I say all that? Am I hoping to scare him away?
Maybe I’m just making excuses in my head to be contrary because I find myself so damn attracted to him. It scares me how attractive he is. He’s so adorable and charming that I don’t have the heart to tell him the real reason we shouldn’t date: I’m planning to move away soon, and I don’t want to get into a serious relationship. And if we go out, I could easily develop a crush.
“There’s nothing better than romance between two weirdos. Let’s give it a shot,” Noah says.
I laugh, and he laughs, and I can’t get enough of that sound. Oh my lands, it would be fun to get dressed up and hang around with him. It sounds like a lot of fun. And it’s been a long time since I simply had fun with a date.
“What would I have to wear to the ball?” I ask.
His sweet puppy dog eyes light up. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes. I’ll go with you, Noah.”
“Yes,” he says, punching the air.
Noah is the kind of cute that could make me forget all about the old hurts. He could get me to let my guard down. He could make me forget my plans to leave town.
“Is this formal, semi-formal, or what?” I ask, because it’s hard to tell from the flyer. A dinner, dancing, and silent auction sounds formal, but you never know in Fate. Half the town shows up to weddings and funerals in pressed jeans and cowboy hats.
“Ah, I think it’s cocktail dress. Whatever that means,” he says with a crooked smile.
I nod politely and tell him, “That means it’s a gray area between black tie and business. Really dressed up, but festive.”
He seems unduly impressed by my knowledge. “Wow, you know medicine and you know fashion. Do you want to come over and help me get dressed for this thing?”
My mouth gapes, and I freeze. I can’t push away the sudden image of Noah in his skivvies and nothing else. I wonder what his chest looks like under that boring beige uniform. For some reason, I’m picturing lightning bolt boxers, and I snort-laugh.
He realizes now what he’s said. “Oh gosh. No, I meant…”
“I know what you meant.” Weirdly, it might be a fun pre-date activity, to break the ice. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but sure. I’ll come over and help you pick something to wear.”
His puppy dog eyes go full-on golden retriever happy. “Awesome! I knew you were the best. So do you want to go right now?” He motions to the door.
“I think we’re both technically still at work?” I say, glancing down to his uniform shirt. Dang, those buttons look like they’re doing a lot of work to keep that broad torso of his covered up.
“Right. Work,” he says, shaking his head and shoving his hat back on his head, the silvery badge glinting under the fluorescent lights.
