Page 9 of Blind Date with a #Doctor
We stop at a booth selling fresh flowers, and I busy myself looking at the bouquets, mostly so I don’t have to keep making eye contact with him. My eye catches on someone looking at us from behind a pillar. It’s Nan, wearing sunglasses the size of dinner plates and pretending to examine a basket of apples like she’s not watching us.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, nodding toward her.
Carter follows my gaze and snorts. “Is that…?”
“Nan,” I confirm.
She notices us looking and immediately picks up an apple, studying it like it holds the secrets of the universe.
“We’re being surveilled,” he says.
“Obviously.”
“We should give them something to talk about.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
“Absolutely.”
And before I can ask what he means, we’re moving again, stopping by the bread stand, where he picks out a loaf of sourdough and tosses it in the bag like this is our weekly routine.
“Do you always do this?” I ask.
“Shop for bread?”
“Flirt at the farmer’s market.”
He smirks. “Only on Saturdays.”
We make our way back to my car, and I’m half expecting the moment to end with a casual “see you around.”
But as I unlock the door, Carter lingers, still holding my bag, standing way too close. Just before he hands my bag back, he leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek. It’s quick, soft, but definitely not accidental.
“See you around, Aspen,” he says, his voice low and warm.
Then he’s gone. Leaving me standing there with my heart beating hard in my chest and no idea what to do about it.
Chapter Six
Aspen
I swear I’m being set up by the universe—or Nan. I don’t see her lurking behind the pastry case, so this time I’m going with the universe. Because there is no other explanation for why I keep running into Carter Reed and why every time I do, he looks better than before. It’s frankly unfair.
I just wanted coffee. That’s it. A quiet morning, a little caffeine, maybe a moment of peace before diving into work.
I did not need to walk in and see him sitting at a corner table, looking annoyingly good in a Henley and jeans, sleeves shoved up to his elbows in a way that should be illegal. When he sees me his mouth curls into a slow, knowing smile.
“Well, well,” Carter says, leaning back like he owns this coffee shop, like he expected me to walk in. “The farmer’s market yesterday and now the coffee shop?”
I groan, tugging off my sunglasses as I step into the line. “I’m starting to think you’re following me.”
smirks. Slow. Amused. Dangerous. “That’s funny. I was about to say the same thing.”
God help me. His voice, that low, teasing rasp, that’s something I cannot think about in public.
“Please,” I scoff. “If I were following you, you wouldn’t even know it.”
Carter raises an eyebrow. “Aspen Hayes. Are you telling me you have stalking skills?”
