Page 14 of Just a Distraction

I grab a bunch of napkins out of the dispenser on our table and hand them to her. If this were a date, I’d probably see if she’d let me use the napkins on her face for her. You know, to help her out.

But I don’t know what this is.

“You guessed mine in three, so I’ll try to do the same.” Better to focus on football instead of her mouth. “There’s something about California in you.” I twist my mouth to one side. “Or, your time working for Casa del Cibo could have influenced you.”

“It absolutely did not.”

“So no Italian influence, huh? Okay. I still stick to my California vibe.” I lower my voice, talking to myself. “Rams, Chargers, or Forty-niners . . .?”

She clamps her mouth shut, tightly. I stare into her soul, enjoying the playful give and take of our gazes.

I point to her. “Forty-niners.”

“You got it on the first guess?” she wails. She grabs at a lock of hair that’s escaped her clip. “How am I that transparent?”

“Oh, you’re not transparent. I’m just really smart.”

She smiles. “I don’t doubt that.”

“You’re the one with the biology degree. And you’re going to nursing school.” I work on my ice cream for a moment. “I’m insanely impressed.”

“Don’t be. It’s well overdue.” Her eyes—that are a captivating shade of hazel, with swirls of light brown—sadden.

“Why? What have you been waiting for?”

“I wasn’twaiting.” She swallows hard. “I’ve had some challenges that have prevented me from actually starting the program. I got my undergrad in bio, then changed my mind and decided to become a nurse. So I worked as a medical assistant to get some experience, applied to nursing school, got accepted, and then . . . life.” She clears her throat, a visceral clearing of the subject. A sort ofwe’re not discussing me right now.

I crave getting to know her better. She’s such a dichotomy. So strong, yet vulnerable. Easy to talk to.

She finishes her ice cream, digging her tongue into the cone to fish out a bit more of the tan liquid that’s already melting on her tongue.

Have I mentioned her mouth is the stuff of dreams?

She stands from our corner table and chucks the bottom tip of the waffle cone in the trash.

Huh. “You don’t like ice cream cones?” I finish, too, and hurry to stand.

There’s a ball of yarn that’s bouncing between us and away from me, unraveling right in front of me, just out of reach. There’s no reason for her to continue to hang out with me. She’s probably going to go home now, which is the last thing I want.

“Oh, I love them.” She adjusts her purse up her shoulder, then laughs at my quizzical look. “It’s just a thing.” She waves me away. “Don’t worry about it. But thanks. I appreciate the ice cream. And the . . . interesting evening.”

“I’m confused.” I sigh, and peer at her with a pleading smile. “And dying to know the reason you don’t finish ice cream cones.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not saying.”

“Does it have anything to do with the fact that in Alabama, it’s illegal to walk down the street with an ice cream cone in your back pocket?”

She dissolves in peals of laughter. “What?” she says, when she finally catches her breath. “That can’t possibly be true. It’s inadvisable . . . but illegal?”

“It is,” I assure her. “I swear it.”

Her gaze takes me in, assessing me, making up her mind about me.

She offers a smile before turning away. “Okay. But that has nothing to do with why I don’t eat the tip of my ice cream cone.” She looks back at me over her shoulder and excitement tumbles through me. “Guess you’ll always wonder.” And then she pushes open the door and hurries out of the shop.

Chapter 6

Rose

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