Page 12 of Charmed, I'm Sure
I stitched up not one, not two, butthreehands that had been sliced open by a gutting knife because some drunk idiots decided that they couldn’t wait until they’d sobered up before whipping out sharp objects.
I was exhausted and in desperate need of a shower by the time my twelve-hour shift ended at seven… fifty-two. Ever heard of a medical professional leaving on time? Yeah, me neither. But instead of heading back to my parent’s house to do just that, I swung by the local grocery store near the hospital to grab some Blue Bell ice cream and beer.
Blue Bell was the best damn ice cream there was, no matter what anyone else said, and unfortunately for me, it was also damned nearimpossible to find outside of the South. Since I did my residency in the northeast, I hadn’t had it in years. Couple that with the shit day I just had? I didn’t care if I had to spend extra hours in the gym; I was going to eat the damn ice cream.
I’d just turned the corner in the frozen dessert aisle, buggy full of odds and ends that I’d remembered I needed and some that I didn’t, when cotton candy-colored hair above bright baby blues pulled my attention from the row of freezers.
“You’vegotto be kidding me,” Magnolia said, not quite under her breath.
“Fancy seeing you here.” I smiled, inching my cart closer to where she was standing. God, she was beautiful. There was not a single speck of makeup on her face, allowing the dusting of freckles across her cheeks their moment to shine. Her hair was piled haphazardly on top of her head, little wispy pieces sticking out on all sides and falling into her face. And there were paint splotches covering her pale jean overalls and the black Chucks on her feet.
I knew I was staring, but I hadn’t realized howlongI’d been staring until she cleared her throat.
“Taylor? Can I help you with something?” She sounded as exhausted as I felt. I had no clue whether it was due to my mere existence or the day she’d had.
A nervous laugh slipped past my lips, and I tried—and failed—to cover it with a cough.Why do I turn into a teenager around this woman?Glancing toward the freezer, I thanked whatever benevolent being was watching me at that moment for a reason to have approached her. “Yeah, actually. You’re in my way.”Shit. Should not have said it that way.
“Excuse me?”
Yep, definitely fucked that up.“The freezer. You’re in front of the one I need to get into.”
Magnolia quirked a brow, shifting her gaze to the glass door, then back to me. “You’re buying ice cream?”
“It would appear that way, yes.”
“Let me guess, you’re a natural vanilla bean kind of guy.”
“What gave you that impression?”
Her eyes raked down my frame, and I swore I could see heat behind that gaze, but whatever it was had extinguished by the time they returned to my face. “I mean, look at you. There’s no way you eat the super sugary stuff, like buttered pecan.”
The chuckle that came out was darker than I had intended it to be, and evidently, my mouth ran away from my brain because there was no stopping what came out next. “Trust me,cher, there’s nothing vanilla about me.”
Should I have said that? Probably not. But watching her cheeks turn a delicious shade of pink as her mouth popped open in the tiniest littleobefore she subconsciously pulled her bottom lip between her teeth was beyond worth it.
I kept my eyes glued to hers as I gently maneuvered her buggy out of the way of the freezer door and pulled it open. The frigid air broke the spell, and Magnolia looked anywhere but at me while I reached in for my ice cream. Package secured, I turned back around and was met with a brow raised in skepticism and eyes that flicked from my gallon of frozen deliciousness to my face. “What?”
“Rocky Road, interesting.”
“Well, it seems you took the last of the chocolate chip cookie dough, so this is a close second.” I shrugged, placing my bounty in my cart.
“You like chocolate chip cookie dough?”
“It’s ice cream and cookie dough. What’s not to like?”
“Can’t argue with that logic.”
“I’m sorry. DidtheMagnolia Bellevue just agree with me? Someone find a calendar and write that down.”
“Fuck off. I am capable of being nice, ya’ know,” she said with a light laugh.
“I know. It’s just nice to be the one it’s directed at for once.”
“Yeah, well.” She shrugged as if that was all that needed to be said. And if I was being honest with myself, it was. She had no reason to be nice to me, and that was something I intended to change.
I had just opened my mouth to apologize again—for what happened at the bar, in high school, anything and everything—when her phone rang,Tennessee Whiskeyby Chris Stapleton echoing through the aisle as she dug through her purse to find the device.
Her eyes flicked from the screen to mine before sliding the green dot over to answer the call. “Hey, give me a sec.” Cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear, she grabbed her buggy and walked away, tossing a small wave in my direction as she passed.
