Page 60 of Doctor Charmer

I step around him, pacing to a clearing. The lookout view unfolds in front of me, and it’s nothing short of breathtaking. The valley stretches out below, a patchwork of greens and browns dot the forest below us. Winding roads, charming cottages and powder puff clouds in the distance.

A gentle breeze rustles the budding leaves of the trees, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth. Reggie steps next to me and points to something far to the left. A river I hadn’t seen. A silver ribbon cutting through the valley. I drink it in, all ofit. Outside of Reggie's apartment, this may be my most favorite place in Eastport.

It’s peaceful. Deafening still and I feel what little stress I have in my body drift away. Up here, in the vastness of nature, any problems I carry feel insignificant. I understand why a doctor with a stressful job would fall in love with this place. Standing here puts things in perspective.

I point to a distant mountain which is dotted with the remnants of winter. “Not all the snow is gone.”

“Not yet. But I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to share this with you.” Reggie slips his hand into mine and we pace forward to the crest of the landing. We stare out in silence at the awe-inspiring view. I get it. I feel it. I feel him.

“Thank you.” I whisper. “I know how much this place means to you. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“Just the start,” he says, and I swoon a little more. We still tease and flirt like we’re teenagers, but we no longer use it as a deflection to hide our hearts. He sees me. And I see him. “Open your jacket for me.”

I feel my brow rise, not sure I’ve heard him correctly. He steps in front of me, his stormy eyes focusing on the zipper of my jacket, and I realize he’s not kidding.

“Reg, I love you and all, but it’s forty degrees. I’m not about to get busy with you in the dirt at the top of this mountain. No matter how many sexy stares you shoot my way.”

The corners of his mouth tip up in delight. “Coach Flirts a lot,” he teases me. “Open your jacket," he demands with a hint of a reward. "There’s something in your inside pocket I want you to read.”

“Oh.” I lower my chin and bite my lip to hide my embarrassment. I don’t tell him that if he had brought a blanket, I might have been totally down. I remove my gloves and tug on the zipper. My hands pat both inside pockets. That’s when I feelit. A piece of paper in the inner left pocket. I look up, capturing Reggie’s hopeful stare. This man is full of surprises.

I reach expecting a card and pause for the briefest of seconds when I realize it’s a folded piece of paper. My fingers unfold the canary yellow page and I lose my breath when I recognize the logo at the top of the flier.USA Volleyball. “Reggie? What is this?”

My eyes scan the flier, but my mind can’t comprehend what I’m reading. “Doctor Richmond, who heads up the Physical Therapy unit, told me about your rehab a few months back. He’s connected, as you can imagine, with almost every sports federation and league in the northeast. I asked him to find a summer league that would allow you to showcase your skills and put you back on the map for an Olympic qualification.”

He says the words as if he's merely written a prescription for Tylenol. This is much bigger than that. This is … a tear rolls down my cheek. This is everything I have ever dreamed up. Reggie doesn’t have to explain further. He somehow found an open volleyball camp and tournament sponsored by one of the top organizations associated with the Olympics. Camps like this are few and far between. Nearly impossible to get into, especially for a player not affiliated with a top ranked team.

Tournaments like funnel players from unranked programs to qualifiers. It's the most difficult of all the paths back to competitive volleyball, which is why I never considered. Less than five percent of Olympic team members come through this path. I don’t allow myself to dream for more than a second. “My injury.”

Soft lips press to my forehead, “you are fully recovered. No restrictions. Doctor’s orders.” I think back two months. Angie promised a quick recovery and she was right. Three weeks after the procedure I was back on the court with the kids. I’ll neverforget the look of amazement and awe on Chelsea’s face when I spiked on her in practice.

I never allowed myself to fully embrace that moment. The next hour I expected the pain to return. For there to be a price to pay for thinking I could fly again. But it never arrived. Not the next day. Nor the next week when I dove for a ball I would have let fall for a point a month prior. Within a week I began to feel like my old self.

“But I’m thirty-two years old. Everyone else on the team is going to be in their early twenties.” I feed him the next excuse. My mind can conjure up reasons for days. I've had years to construct them.

“Good. You can teach them a thing or two. Experience comes with age.” He doesn’t waver in his belief in me.

I point to the flier. “It’s six weeks long.”

“During the summer. School is out.” His hands land on my shoulders, his gaze boring into me. He knows my work schedule. We hadn't talked in detailed but I was looking forward to spending the summer with him. “I paid the non-refundable deposit. The volleyball camp is only thirty minutes from the hospital. You can stay at my place if you’re ok with it.” He pauses, giving me something else ponder. “Scouts from the Olympic committee will be at the games. This is your second chance. I'll be in stands for every game – bought that extra large Stanley cup." He tilts his head, his distractingly handsome smile full on beaming. "The pom-poms are on order and will be here tomorrow. I want the entire world to see you soaring like the angel you are.”

Tears flood my eyes because this man has knocked down every barrier. He’s cleared a path for me to chase after my dream. A dream I thought was no longer achievable. I wrap my arms around him, smashing my lips into his. I give him the sweetestof kisses, both of us knowing this is just the start of the rewards coming his way.

Hand in his hair, I give him the kiss of the year. “Thank you so much Reggie. This truly means the world to me.”

“I do have my ulterior motive. I now get to see watch you in your indecent shorts practicing as you whip yourself into Olympic competition shape.” His tongue swipes across his lower lip and I want to kiss this man a thousand times more.

“Is that all you want?” I’m a relentless tease.

His eyes warm, “there is one other thing.” His voice lowers, an air of seriousness creeping in. “I wanted to circle back to something you said a few minutes ago …”

My head swirls as I try to think of all the things I’ve said since we’ve stepped on this mountain. My eyes close as I realize what it is. My heart burst with warmth with the realization.

“Something about forty degrees…” his face lights up with the joy of a man whose heart is full.

“I said I love you.” I’m standing inches in front of him. Our eyes locked. The last few months have been a whirlwind. These words have been in my head for some time. On the tip of my tongue just as many. I thought for weeks when I spoke these words, they would be in a bold declaration. But that’s not who we are. We are flirts and charms, and heart felt one-liners. So, of course, that’s how it was delivered.

“I love you.” He says the words and I’m not sure if he’s repeating my words or making a statement. His hand rises to cup my face, wiping away any doubts. “I love you Ivy Springwood. I love coach flirts a lot. I love the hard-headed woman who takes care of everyone but herself. I love the woman who puts me in my place. I love you Ivy, forever and a day.”

His words are perfect. This moment is perfect. This spot is perfect. I tip up on my toes and give him a tender kiss. We haveclimbed the mountain together and we now get to enjoy the view.

We are charmingly perfect together.

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