Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Houston was aware he was making her uncomfortable, that he was staring with no shame whatsoever, and that it bothered her that he didn’t run on at the mouth. But he couldn’t help any of that. She had him burning.
Every inch of him was aware of her and he could only be grateful for the table hiding his hard-on.
The wind ruffled her hair, sending the short strands sticking straight up, and her eyes were bright, shiny with nervous amusement, and what he hoped like hell was sexual interest. Her cheeks were dusky pink against her pale chin and neck, and her lips were open a sliver, showing off their wet, plump undersides.
The spot where he wanted his tongue.
“How old are you, Houston? How long have you been a surgeon? I’m twenty-seven, almost twenty-eight, you know.”
Her words tumbled over one another as she waited, twisting the napkin in front of her between rigid fingers, and Houston sat back in his chair, frowning a little at her attempt to chitchat. Something he was never good at.
“I’m thirty-three.” Old enough to know better than to be having sex with a co-worker, not that it seemed to make a difference.
“I was at a hospital in Daytona for five years before I came here.” He knew she wanted more, and he wanted to tell her more, but he had no idea how to do this, how to open up, how to have a conversation that wasn’t artificial and superficial.
With his buddies, it was different. They just hung out together and surfed and lifted a box when someone needed help moving.
With his mother and his sister, well, he loved them beyond anything, but he also protected them.
He didn’t tell them his business. Instead, he made a point of talking mostly about their business, or when pressed, discussing medicine, which was a safe topic.
Josie wasn’t like other dates he’d had. She had a guilelessness about her that unnerved him at the same time it struck a raw nerve. He was both attracted to that and repelled.
She scared the crap out of him—or, more accurately, his intense feelings for her scared the crap out of him.
He found himself scratching his jaw, trying hard to think of something to say. “I chose orthopedics because I like working with the older folks. They don’t have the fear of the younger patients, and they’re so damn grateful to you for making their life a bit easier. It’s a good feeling.”
Josie smiled, mouth full of straight teeth, and he could see he had pleased her with that answer. And for some reason, that pleased him.
He shifted in his seat, feeling self-conscious, and was grateful for the waiter asking for their orders.
Josie was still wearing that expression a minute later when the waiter left, and this time Houston told himself to enjoy it. He had a cute, sexy woman smiling at him and he was worrying about it? That didn’t say good things about his mental health.
“So you’re twenty-seven,” he said, feeling that those six years between them stretched long and jaded. Or maybe age had nothing to do with it, and he was just cynical and selfish and had always been that way. “Why did you decide to be a surgeon, Josie?”
He was curious about her answer. Surgery really didn’t seem to suit her.
“Well, my dad was a surgeon.” Josie chewed her lip and stared at the table.
“He died when I was fifteen, and it made him so proud to know I was going to follow in his footsteps.” Josie looked up with a soft smile.
“And like you, I enjoy helping people. I’m a people person.
My mom always said I never met a stranger. ”
Unlike him, who lived surrounded by strangers, all because he never made an effort to be otherwise.
Josie’s pert little nose was wrinkled up, freckles dusting her cheeks on either side, and the temptation to slide into self-disgust faded. He smiled at her. “You’re definitely a verbal person.”
She laughed. “That’s a polite way to put it.”
“Not really. I like listening to you.” It surprised him, but it was true.
A little flush crawled up her neck. “Is your family close to here, Houston?”
Josie leaned forward and propped her face up with her hand, her leg crossed and swinging to the side of the chair. The tips of her perky breasts rested on top of the table, momentarily distracting him.
“They’re right here in Acadia. My mom, my sister and brother-in-law, and their two little girls. That’s part of why I took the job here, even though I was only twenty minutes away before.”
When confronted with questions about his family, he always gave the pat answers. Listening to himself and his stilted responses, it occurred to him for the first time that even if he ever wanted a relationship, it would be damn near impossible to expect a woman to fall for him.
A friendly dolphin was probably better company.
He tried a little harder, not stopping to wonder why he cared. “My nieces are four and two, Miranda and Abby, and they’re these little bundles of sticky energy.”
“Tell me something cute they’ve done.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, everyone has a cute story about kids. Tell me something cute.” She was sipping the soft drink the waiter had brought to her, and her tongue slid up and down the straw.
“Well...” Houston pictured Miranda and Abby, their dark hair tumbling across their faces, little rosebud lips curved in smiles or pouts or stubborn determination. “They call me Unca Ouston, which is kind of funny.”
Josie laughed. “Does their Unca Ouston spoil them rotten?”
“Not at all.” He took a swallow of his beer. “And no matter what my sister thinks, that inflatable ten-by-ten bounce house for Miranda’s fourth birthday was not excessive.”
“Oh my God.” She shook her head, clearly amused.
Houston settled back in his chair, spreading his legs out. This wasn’t so bad, this getting to know someone stuff. He almost felt relaxed with Josie, a feeling he usually only accomplished on a surfboard or eating his mother’s lasagna.
“I’m an only child. I wish I had nieces and nephews.”
“Whenever the urge strikes, you can borrow mine. Just be prepared to get really familiar with diapers and Dora the Explorer.”
“Do you want kids, Houston?”
He had always hated when women asked him that.
It implied they cared what his answer was—that they were planning, hoping, assessing.
Usually he tossed off a stone-cold no and watched their expressions change.
Some women questioned why, some insisted he’d change his mind, and others looked at him like he had admitted he kicked puppies.
But they all left him alone after he assured them that he was a cold-hearted selfish bastard who had no interest in devoting his life to ungrateful brats.
That killed the conversation every time.
No woman had ever heard him speak the truth.
That he desperately wanted to be a father, that he would love to have a tiny warm body clasped against him in trust, but that he was terrified he wouldn’t be any good at it.
His own father hadn’t exactly provided him with a model to imitate.
Something, he didn’t know what, made him open his mouth and tell Josie Adkins the truth. “Sure, I’d like kids.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I can see that. You’ll focus every ounce of yourself on that child.” She brushed her bangs off her forehead. “Lucky kid.”
Except there never would be a kid, and it suddenly pissed him off. He shrugged, affecting unconcern. “Except I won’t have a kid without a wife, obviously, and I won’t be getting myself a wife.”
“Anytime soon, you mean?” she asked, meeting his gaze without wavering, her little round cheeks plumped out with soft drink.
“Ever.”
Brown liquid squirted between her lips and dribbled down her chin.