Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
“And if anything else changes, you’ll have your mom text me, right?” I ask the eleven-year-old who would much rather watch the celebrity dance competition than talk about nasal pressure and congestion.
“Yes, absolutely. My mom is overreacting, it’s fine. I’m fine,” Olivia insists.
“Well, do you know what I think fine means?” I ask her.
“Like, okay, not great but acceptable,” Olivia responds.
“Well, the dictionary would say something like that, but I personally think it means frankly, it’s not enough.” I smile at my preferred definition.
“Oh, f-i-n-e. But that wouldn’t be a definition, that would be an acronym, right?” Olivia asks.
“Yeah, I just mean if something is fine, it’s not great and could be better, so fine is never really fine.”
“I might steal that.” Ryan’s comment reminds me the incredibly handsome man is still hovering nearby, as if I could forget, but I was tuned into giving Olivia my full attention as I gave her a quick exam.
“I didn’t file copyright on the saying, so go ahead.” I laugh, then cringe at how awkward my laugh sounded. I think his hotness dulls something in my brain. As a doctor, I know that’s not actually a possibility, but as a woman, I cannot deny that this man’s hotness has magical powers.
Facts are facts, but feelings matter, too.
We say goodbye to the girls and let them return to their show, which I personally think the former boy band member has the competition in the bag, but I don’t comment to make myself sound even younger than I already do with my awkward laugh around this man.
And Ryan Callahan is a man. There is nothing boyish about him.
He is sophisticated, confident, and his jawline should come with a warning.
His beautiful face has a whisper of a five o’clock shadow, and I didn’t know I had a thing for guys with facial hair until this very moment.
His chestnut hair is long enough to have a slight wave to it—and it makes me want to run my fingers through it.
I’m two seconds away from checking if I’m drooling at the man when I am saved by Savannah joining us back in the kitchen.
I slip into professional mode and agree that it likely is just allergies, but also give my general spiel about not hesitating to get her checked out if things worsen or if she starts to wheeze at any point.
I try to stay focused on Savannah, but I notice Ryan’s gray-blue eyes narrow slightly, and his internal thoughts are written all over his face.
He is trying to figure me out, but that’s okay.
That’s what most people do when they first meet me.
I’m a walking science project they naturally want to probe and poke.
I try not to feel deflated at that, because as much as I attempt to just be a typical twenty-eight-year-old, apparently, I can’t do that even in a friend’s kitchen.
I mentally chastise myself for checking out my friends’ brother. I respect Vivian and Savannah and would never be inappropriate with him. I’m never inappropriate with anyone. I’m sure it’s a biological response to his pheromones making me act like a nut.
I should check my cycle. I bet I’m ovulating and this is all a hormonal response.
“Do you think there’s anything else I can do?” Savannah asks, pulling me from my internal lecture.
“The old saying that chicken noodle soup is good for the soul is accurate when it comes to the body too, so it’s never a bad idea to offer that, along with rest and a lot of fluids.”
“Is it chicken noodle soup specifically?” Ryan asks. That’s sweet; he’s clearly invested in his nieces’ well-being.
“Any broth-based soup would be good. The warm broth can be soothing if the throat is irritated from drainage, and the steam from the soup can help open nasal passages a bit, too. Personally, I can’t cook worth a darn, but there’s a restaurant that Walker’s assistant introduced me to, Spoon and Smash, and their chicken and rice soup makes me feel better any day of the week, sick or not.
” I’m oversharing, I know this. But something about this man makes me want to keep talking.
What is happening right now?
“Oh, I’ve been there! Their soup is always so good. They do this clam chowder around lent every year that I make a point not to miss,” Savannah adds.
“I’ll have to check this place out the next time I’m in Nashville for meetings,” Ryan says.
“Do you go to Nashville for work often?” Because that would be fantastic to run into him if he did.
A slow grin spreads across his face that somehow makes the man even more damn handsome.
“Not usually, but every now and then. My personal accountant is in Nashville, and a few friends from college that I make it a point to stay in touch with, so I head into the city for personal matters much more often than professional. But I consider the claims of amazing soup very seriously.”
Dang it.
“Well, I highly recommend their chicken wild rice soup, or their broccoli cheddar is amazing as well.” And I would highly recommend going with me so I can enjoy watching you bliss out over how good it all is.
“I’ll have to take you up on that.” Ryan’s tone sounds like he is implying something with that statement, but I can’t trust my mental assessment right now. This man’s pheromones are making it all cloudy.
Or steamy.
Shit.
I feel the blush rise on my cheeks at the thought, and my pale complexion gives away the very clear signs that this man is making me blush. “Is it warm in here? I’m going to grab something to drink outside. It was nice to officially meet you, Ryan. Have a good night!”
I all but run away from this man, but just in time, because the blush did not stop at my cheeks—oh, no—even the idea of him being steamy in my imagination made me blush from head to toe.
I’ve never been so thankful for a patio lit only by a fire pit before in my life.