Page 26 of Tell Me Again

“Mel, we got a to-go order!” I call out as the doors close behind me.

I see Mel back in her office. She’s on the phone, and she waves at me with a scowl and then starts whisper-yelling into the phone. She’s been acting all funny since yesterday, but she still hasn’t told me what’s up, and I’m not about to ask right now.

I’m not a cook, but since Mel’s otherwise occupied, I start putting Josh’s order together. The desserts are easy, and by the time I’ve gotten both the peach cobbler and the chocolate cream pie boxed up, Mel joins me, mumbling something under her breath that’s riddled with curse words.

Shit, she’s almost making my internal monologue sound tame.

“Mel, are you—”

“I’m fuckin’ fine, Coop. Get the broth for the dip, will ya?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Okay, so she still doesn’t want to talk about it. Got it.

I quickly finish up and package everything into boxes. Then, I put the boxes in a bag, add some plastic cutlery and napkins, and grab his iced tea. By the time it’s all done, Mel’s gone again—back in her office, with the door closed this time. Later. I’ll talk to her later.

I head out toward the dining room, and as soon as I step through the doors, I can feel him. It’s that same fucking heat and magnetism, and there’s also this, I dunno, tingling or some shit. He’s sitting at the counter, watching me, and when our eyes meet, it happens again. Like fucking magic.

“Uh, all done. It’s, uh, twenty-seven fifty.”

I set the bag on the counter, and he hesitates for a second—although maybe it’s not so much him hesitating as him holding my gaze longer than is strictly necessary. Then it’s like he realizes just that, and his cheeks turn red.

Shit, it can’t be. Is he... is he feeling all this too?

He digs into his pocket to pull out his wallet, and I look away. Only, I make the terrible mistake of glancing over in Angie’s direction. Fuck. She’s sitting with her back against the wall now, her knees pulled up and her chin resting on them, and she’s grinning at me with this fucking knowing grin that’s just—ahh, fuck.

She giggles and then pretends to fan herself as her eyes dart deliberately to Josh. Yep. Yep, I’m fucked.

I shake my head, but I can feel my face heat up, and I force myself to look back toward Josh, who’s thumbing through his wallet.

“Ah, here. And keep the change.” He hands me two twenties, and I immediately go to protest—because that’s just too much of a tip, and it feels wrong—but he cuts me off and pulls something else out of his wallet. “Uh, I forgot yesterday... My, uh, my number.”

It’s a business card—Joshua A. Miller, DPT. UNMC Home Instead Center for Successful Aging. Fuck, he’s really exactly what he said.

“My cell number there—that’s my personal cell. Uh, in case, um...”

I grin at him, and I just can’t help telling him exactly what’s running through my head. “Wow, man. Look at this. That’s... that’s a fuckin’ doctorate, right? DPT? Doctor of Physical Therapy? Damn, Josh. Congrats, man.”

“Nah, it’s—”

“It’s huge, man. It’s huge.”

He’s ducked his head, and he’s rubbing the back of his neck. And his cheeks are still red. God, it’s even hotter in here now.

I see Angie out of the corner of my eye. She’s pretending to read her book now, but she’s poking her eyes up over the top of it, and when she sees me, she tilts her head toward Josh and then lowers her book and mouths something that seems suspiciously like “Oh my god, he’s fucking hot.”

And not that I disagree with her, but... fuck. I shake my head again and then shift so I can’t see her anymore.

“Anyway, um, call me? Or—or text, if that’s your thing. Uh, so we can hang out again? I don’t know what your schedule is.” He’s mumbling a bit, and he sounds nervous as hell, and it’s fucking adorable. And I’m not sure when I went from panic-throwing up to thinking he’s fucking adorable, but my heart is plenty happy about it right now.

“Yeah, sounds good. Maybe, um, Thursday? I’m supposed to be off Thursday.”

“Supposed to be?”

“One of the other servers has been calling out a lot. Not sure what’s gonna happen. But, maybe Thursday.”

Fuck, I hope Thursday.

“You want to kiss me? Like, on the lips? Now?”

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