by A. J. Pine
He flashed her the same customer-service grin he’d given to the café patrons, but it didn’t exactly have the same effect on her. In fact, the glare seemed to grow with intensity.
“I’ve heard nothing but whining and complaining since the first orders went in. Miss, I ordered my iced tea without ice. Miss? Is this going to take much longer? We’re supposed to go see Shakespeare in the Park. Since when does Meadow Valley have a Shakespeare troupe? And it’s like forty degrees out there.”
“High school drama club,” he said. “They’re practicing for some state competition coming up. I hear they’re pretty good.”
“I burned my hand on a pot handle,” she continued, holding up a bandaged hand, Shakespeare no longer her concern. “And that bachelorette party that apparently wants you to be their evening entertainment keeps ordering shots and then asking me to take their picture as they get more and more drunk, as if I don’t have anything else I need to do.” She groaned. “I’m beginning to think the reason I holed up with my doctor club in high school was as much about avoiding social interaction as it was curing heart disease. Newsflash: I can’t do what you do.”
“What do I do?” he asked. Then he gently took her bandaged hand in his and inspected the dressing. She hissed in a breath through her teeth.
“You should ice this,” he said.
“I know,” she admitted. “But I don’t have time.”
He fought the urge to press the bandaged hand to his lips and instead walked her toward the ice machine, where he unwrapped the gauze, winced at the blister already forming in the middle of her palm, and then scooped a lone piece of ice onto it before replacing the bandage.
She let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing.
“Okay,” she said. “Yeah. That feels really good.”
He smiled and kissed her forehead, a friendly peck even if to him it felt like more.
“Now tell me what it is that I do that you can’t do. Because I’m pretty sure you can do anything, Doc.”
She rolled her eyes at this, but he knew it was true.
“Schmooze,” she said. “Charm the pants off every woman in the room—figuratively and possibly literally as well. Make people forget their selfish needs because they just can’t help but smile when you so much as spare them a glance. I thought it was cute when I first met you, but now it sort of makes me hate your guts a little. I don’t relate like that to, well, anyone, but you don’t have the ability to turn it off. People fawn over you, dopey grin and all.” One corner of her mouth fought its way to a crooked grin. “See? You’re even doing it to me!”
He laughed. “Doing what? I’m just standing here.”
“I know, but it just oozes right off of you. You flash that grin at people, and it’s like they’ll do whatever you ask without hesitation. Like that drunk woman from the bachelorette party pulling you onto her lap.”
Was that jealousy in her tone? He could tell she was more exasperated than really upset, but how much of that exasperation resulted from seeing a stranger’s arms around his neck?
Her cheeks were flushed, but that could be from running herself ragged since the café opened for dinner. He liked to believe it was partly to do with him. He liked that she didn’t like another woman’s hands on him.
He waggled his brows. “Will you do whatever I ask without hesitation?”
She opened her mouth to offer what he was sure would be a smart retort, but they were both interrupted by Pearl.
“Can you two save the foreplay until after the kitchen closes?” she barked.
They spun to find her sitting in her chair at the end of the prep counter, her head held high and shoulders back. Her good hand gripped the armrest, and even though the woman was seriously injured, she looked very much like the queen of Meadow Valley that she was. That wheelchair might as well have been an iron throne.
“Right!” Charlotte yelped. “Sorry, Gran.”
“Okay, then,” Pearl said. “You get the food out, and you”—she pointed to Charlotte—“go table to table and check on drinks. Refill what needs refillin’ and clear what needs clearin’.”
Ben nodded once. “Yes, ma’am.”
“On it!” Charlotte added.
From there on out, the kitchen and café were a frenzy of activity. While Ben did his best to deliver the correct orders to patrons, Charlotte poured and refilled pitchers of water and iced tea, cleared empty plates to make room for full ones, and, thanks to another round of shots, endured watching—more than once—as Ben received a smack on the ass from the bachelorette party’s maid of honor.
His path crossed Charlotte’s on his next trip back into the kitchen. She was on her way out with a pitcher of iced tea but stopped when she saw him.
“So…everything going okay out there?” she asked.
He nodded, looked over his shoulder at the tables of satisfied patrons and then back at her. “I might have a knack for this after all,” he said.
Charlotte worried her bottom lip between her teeth.
“What is it, Doc? Did I mess up an order? Tell me what I did wrong. I can take it,” he said. And he realized he could take the criticism if it was coming from her because she’d let him down easy, like a good friend would.
She groaned. “Did you…like it?” she asked hesitantly.
His brow furrowed. Like it? Like—
Realization bloomed, and he laughed softly.
“Doc?” he said gently. “Are you jealous of that handsy drunk woman out there?”
“No,” she insisted, then winced. “Maybe. I don’t know. Forget I said anything.” Then she groaned again and strode past him and back out to the café.
Despite Charlotte’s embarrassment, Ben felt like he’d just won the lottery.
His pulse sped up as he tried to figure out what to say when their paths crossed again.
“Crème brûlée cart for table six!” one of the kitchen staff called out, and Ben grabbed the dessert-laden cart to wheel out to Charlotte’s favorite table, the bachelorette party.
“How are we doing, ladies?” he called out as he pushed through the door and into the café.
The table of women responded with whoops and hollers.
“Better now that you’re here, cowboy,” one of them replied.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come to the tavern with us?” another one asked as he rounded the table, passing out each individual dessert.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Charlotte glancing in his direction while filling a patron’s glass—until iced tea spilled over the top of said glass and down her hand and arm.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said to the patron, who’d absorbed some of the overflow.
“Ugh!” the woman yelled at Charlotte. “I’m soaked!”
“Excuse me, ladies,” he said, dropping off the last crème brûlée and then dashing into the kitchen to grab a couple towels and a slice of Pearl’s famous carrot cake.
“On the house,” he said to the woman, setting the cake down in front of her and handing her one of the towels. “The cake and the extra iced tea,” he added with a smile.
The woman blushed—much to the chagrin, it seemed, of her husband sitting across from her.
“It’s no problem, really,” she said with a giggle.
Charlotte rolled her eyes as Ben handed her the other towel and then set the pitcher down on the empty cart next to table six. Then he led Charlotte toward the door leading back to the kitchen.
“Now your charm is just getting annoying,” she mumbled as she dried off her arm.
He blew out a breath. “You know it’s just flirting, right? None of that means anything. It’s all in good fun.”
“I know,” she said. “It just makes it feel less special when you flirt with me, and it shouldn’t matter because this?” She motioned between them. “It’s pretend. It’s so my grandmother doesn’t worry about me. It’s so I don’t have to go on a bunch of awkward dates with men who could never be more than a two
-month distraction anyway, so why even bother, right? It’s…it’s all those things.”
She twisted the tea-stained towel in her hands.
She was right. It was all those things. Which meant what? He was nothing more than a two-month distraction. But that was what he’d signed up for, so it shouldn’t be an issue. She shouldn’t care about his flirting, and he shouldn’t care if it made her feel less than special.
But the problem was, he did care.
“Doc…” he started. “Do you want my flirting with you to mean more? Because from the way you describe it, I’m nothing more than the friend who saved you from all that awkwardness, which is what I’m supposed to be, right?”
She nodded, then squeezed her eyes shut and groaned.
He couldn’t help but laugh. She was adorable when she was exasperated. He just didn’t understand why she was exasperated.
“I feel like there’s a but coming…” he said, and she nodded again, then opened her eyes.
“I get it,” she said. “You’re this tall, dark, devastatingly sexy drink of water who couldn’t turn off the charm if he tried. Before, when I was here for…” She cleared her throat. “Um…pleasure rather than business…I was secure enough to know that I was pretty good at the pleasure part of our arrangement and that even though you turned heads the second you stepped out the door, I had something to offer you that no one else did—that you’d be in my bed that night and would not be disappointed.” She shook her head and let out a nervous laugh. “It’s stupid. I know it is. But it felt good. It felt, I don’t know, special. And powerful, that you wanted me and no one else.”
Jesus. Now he was the one squeezing his eyes shut, trying to will away visions of her in his bed. Trying not to admit to himself that even back then, when they were enjoying a no-strings-attached arrangement, he hadn’t wanted anyone else but her. The fact that she felt any less special now simply because she wasn’t pleasuring him?
“Is that what you really think, Doc? That the only thing that made you special or unique in my eyes was what we did each night?” he asked.
She shrugged. “And some mornings.” Then she forced a laugh, trying to make light of the situation that basically spelled out what a complete ass he used to be—and maybe still was.
“You were always more than just a good roll in the hay, Doc. But I’m crap at showing it.” Because he’d only been thinking about himself. Even now, when he could finally admit to himself that he cared about her—as a friend or more or whatever they were or could be—he still didn’t know how to put someone else first.
“Ben, you don’t have to say that,” she insisted. “I’m fine. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
He shook his head.
That was it. He’d not only put her first but he’d also put her on a damned pedestal so everyone knew that even if they were only friends, Dr. Charlotte North had quickly become one of the best damned parts of his newfound appreciation for life.
“Come here,” he said. He grabbed the towel from her hands and threw it over his shoulder. Then he wrapped his hand around hers and nodded back toward the patrons in the café.
“What are you—”
But he gave her a gentle tug and grinned.
“Putting you first,” was all he said before leading her to the center of the room.
Slowly, he turned her to face her.
“With your permission, Doc, I’m going to initiate some lip-locking this time.”
Her eyes widened, and she swallowed. Then she nodded her assent.
He cradled her head in one hand and wrapped the other around her waist. Then he dipped her and kissed her like he hoped she’d never been kissed before.
She held tight around his neck and wrapped one leg around his waist. This was a good sign that hopefully he hadn’t messed up everything between them. So was her opening her mouth, inviting him in, letting him taste the sweetness that could only be described as Charlotte North.
He straightened, hooked a hand around her other thigh, and lifted her in his arms.
She nipped at his bottom lip, and he growled softly against her mouth. Then she deepened this kiss, all the while squeezing him tight as if her life depended on her never letting go.
Or maybe that was him.
For a few glorious seconds, he let his selfishness slip back in, let himself forget they had an audience and that the woman in his arms was only meant to be his friend—only meant to be a temporary part of his life in Meadow Valley.
For a few seconds, he dared to imagine what it would be like if she stayed.
But that kind of thinking was almost as selfish as the way he’d treated her the first time around.
Their lips finally parted because eventually they had to breathe—and face whatever came next.
What he faced was a smile spread across Charlotte’s face that was so big it made it hard for him to breathe.
“Sorry, ladies,” he said to the table of bride and bridesmaids—who stared at him and Charlotte with mouths agape—but the matching grin on his face revealed he wasn’t sorry at all. “The kitchen’s closing, and it seems I’ve got plans for the rest of the evening. If you’d all kindly settle up your tabs, we’ll be happy to assist with whatever you need. We’ll be back open for breakfast bright and early tomorrow morning.”
He tipped his nonexistent hat and sauntered back toward the kitchen, his partner in crime still smiling triumphantly and wrapped around him like this was how she always exited a room.
Once through the kitchen door, he set her down gently. For a second he—the man who always knew the right words to charm his way in or out of any situation—had no idea what to say next. The kiss was way beyond the borders of shabby. That much was certain. And he was pretty damned sure that any patron he’d flirted with as a matter of “customer service” was clear where they stood in relation to one very kissable doctor.
But had he just royally complicated their situation?
The kitchen was a blur of movement around them—the small staff washing dishes and closing down shop. And he and Charlotte should probably be back in the café collecting payment as guests closed out their tabs, but they had to debrief after what they’d done, didn’t they?
“So…” she said, quickly looking at him but then averting her gaze.
“So…” Ben echoed. “I’m…sorry?” he said, wincing.
Her head snapped up, and her eyes locked on his.
“What?” she asked. “Why? Did you not want that to happen because you kind of started it.”
His eyes widened. “What?” Jesus. He needed to stop repeating her and come up with his own words. “No,” he added. “I mean, yes. Shit. I don’t know what question I’m answering. I wanted to kiss you, Doc. I wanted you to know that even when we weren’t playing whatever game we’re playing now, that it was more than sex that had me in your bed or you in mine each night for two weeks. I’m not sure how much you’ve heard about me, but that first time we met was the most committed I’ve been to any relationship. Ever.”
She crossed and uncrossed her arms, then rolled her eyes.
“That wasn’t a relationship,” she said.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I know,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t change the fact that when I wasn’t with you, I looked forward to the time I would be and that when I was with you, I didn’t want you to leave.”
She scoffed. “Well, maybe I looked forward to the time we spent together too! Maybe I still do!” She was practically yelling.
“Are we fighting?” he asked, unsure if she was happy about her realization or not. Because it really felt like not.
She threw her arms in the air. “I don’t know. I keep telling myself that we’re doing all this for Pearl, that friendship is good because it’s safe and we’re both so good at safe. But that kiss? What the hell was that?”
He blew out a breath. “Not safe.”
A throat cleared behind him, and Ben spun to see Pearl in her wheelchair, eyes nar
rowed.
“Charlotte, sweetheart, there’s probably some folks waiting to close out their tabs. Be a dear and go check on that. Being as crowded as we are, I don’t want to run over anyone’s toes or get in the way.”
Charlotte looked at her grandmother, then back at him. “We’ll finish what we were talking about later,” she said, her expression unreadable. “Consider yourself off duty for the rest of the night while I finish up here.”
Yep, he was in trouble all right, but as she brushed past him, she slipped her hand in his, and he felt cool metal pressed against his palm.
He squeezed his hand shut as Charlotte strode back out of the kitchen door.
Pearl rolled close enough to him that her wheels were inches from the toes of his boots.
“What was that?” she asked, jutting her chin toward the café.
Ben’s eyes widened. “You saw?”
Pearl rolled her eyes. “Honey, the café walls are windows. All of First Street saw you two. It was unprofessional,” she said coolly.
“I know. I’m—”
“Uncivilized,” she added.
“But—”
“And,” she interrupted, “downright uncouth. This is a place of business, not a Hallmark movie.”
He was ready to agree with her but was pretty certain she’d cut him off again, so he waited to make sure the ball was in his court.
“But…” she continued. Because there was always a but. Wait, he was already in trouble, so was a but good in this case? “But that was also just about the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen. Next to being able to see my late husband one more time, I can’t think of anything better than the smile you put on my granddaughter’s face.”
Ben’s shoulders relaxed. “So, I’m not in trouble?”
She leaned forward and patted his knee with her good hand. “I don’t like admitting when I’m wrong, but I think I was when it comes to you, Ben. Maybe you do have staying power. And maybe you’ll show Charlotte that there’s more to life than trying to take care of everyone else. Every now and again, we all need to be taken care of ourselves.” She gave his knee another pat. “But let me remind you of my earlier request,” she added.
