Chapter 2 Eva
With a deep breath, I remove my green apron and hang it up in the back. The café isn’t big by any means, but we have a small office right behind the kitchen. There’s a desk with my laptop for when I have to do paperwork and other tasks.
Above the desk is a corkboard with photos pinned to it. My eyes wander to the one of me and Maddy drenched in tomato juice from partaking in La Tomatina in Spain. We laughed so hard that day, I swear we both peed our pants.
Beside that photo is one of Maddy frowning with a bruised wrist from the Gloucester cheese-rolling festival. I smile at the memories. Who would have thought that two girls seated next to each other in freshman biology, both trying not to throw up while dissecting a dead frog, would end up here?
My best friend is getting married.
I press my palm to my chest to suppress the overwhelming feeling of life moving fast. One minute, we’re just kids doing stupid kid things, and the next, we’re planning weddings.
After grabbing my purse, I wave goodbye to Billie.
She’s busy talking to the couple who have finally managed to pull their tongues away from each other.
Maybe this is the beginning of their love story, and my café plays a part in their forever…
or a kinky night involving the donuts Billie made this morning.
As I walk out the door, I smirk, leaving that awkward encounter for Billie to handle, and head toward the clinic just a block away. The crisp winter air is exactly what I need to clear my head.
The door to Fairy Lane Treats opens as the owner, Mrs. Dorothy, steps out. I brace myself for the inevitable, certain that she has two main goals in life—to sell candy and to set me up with whatever single man she can get her hands on.
Her pink-stained lips raise into an overbearing smile. “My dear, aren’t you looking beautiful on this special holiday.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Dorothy, as are you.”
“Stop.” She flicks her hand with a giggle. “It’s my and Mr. Dorothy’s fortieth anniversary today.”
“Oh wow! Forty years married.” I let out a whistle. “That’s true love.”
“No, my dear.” She glances around to make sure no one is listening, then leans in close. “Forty years since we first fornicated.”
I freeze. “Fornicated?”
“We weren’t married yet,” she whispers. “But I don’t want you to follow in my footsteps.”
“Oh, right. Yes, I wouldn’t want to be a bad girl,” I lie, then force a smile to stop the word fornicated from repeating in my brain.
“Now, there’s a young fellow I’d like you to meet…”
Mrs. Dorothy rambles on as I nod, pretending to listen but zoning out while glancing around the street to see what is happening.
I chose Cinnamon Springs because of my fond memories, yet everyone moved on.
My parents moved to Utah years ago, finally living their farm life with a gazillion animals. Every time Mom calls, they’ve added some new member to their ever-growing flock. I heard her throw around the word grandkids but hung up before the conversation segued to my love life, or lack thereof.
My brother, Elliot, lives in Cannes. We still keep in touch, but I miss him terribly. It’s not the same with everyone so far away. He’s busy building his life as a pastry chef at some high-end restaurant with women throwing themselves at him. That’s according to Mom, anyway.
Maybe a trip to see him might cure whatever funk I’m in right now, but the last time I attempted to do that, my flight was canceled, and a hurricane stopped me from leaving the States. I took it as a sign and stayed home.
I return my focus to Mrs. Dorothy as she smiles with eyes wide in anticipation.
“So, how about dinner tonight?” she asks, watching me intently. “I’m sure Basil can make it if I ask him.”
Surely, a red flag is being set up on a blind date with a guy named after an herb.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Dorothy, I have plans tonight. Maybe another time?”
She nods politely. “You let me know, dear. I’ll have you know my sister, Winnie, is a spinster.”
And this is my cue to leave.
I distract Mrs. Dorothy by complimenting her on the new storefront. The big rainbow lollipop spinning in the window is sure to draw a crowd, I tell her as I make my exit.
To avoid being stopped by anyone else, I walk faster with my head down and ignore all eye contact. When I reach the clinic, I breathe a sigh of relief.
The chime on the door dings as I enter. There aren’t any other people waiting, which must be a world first. Usually, this place is overcrowded in winter, with all the viruses spreading around.
The receptionist greets me with a friendly smile. “Miss Woods, I was afraid you forgot about your appointment.”
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Weston. It’s been busy at the café today.
You know, Valentine’s Day and all.” I release a breath, wondering if I should just back out now.
What’s the point of staying on birth control if my sex life is nonexistent?
It’s not like I’m on any dating apps, and quite frankly, the men in this town are…
blah. Manhattan is only two hours away, but city men are often so arrogant. Like Aston.
My lips purse at the thought of him. God, I really need to get over this.
“Take a seat, my dear. Dr. Wilde is with another patient, but he won’t be long.”
I sit on the plastic chair and reach for an old magazine. As I flick through it aimlessly, I begin praying this routine checkup turns out okay so I can continue taking the pill for future me, who is supposedly going to have all the sex .
Then, I tilt my head with confusion and glance at Mrs. Weston. “Dr. Wilde?” I ask from across the room. “Is he new? Where is Dr. Green?”
The door to the office opens, prompting me to turn around. And when I do, the sexiest of grins is all I can focus on. God, his lips look soft and inviting—full and the perfect shade of pink. I just know he would be a great kisser.
I’m unable to speak, but I force myself to lift my gaze to meet his chestnut-brown eyes, desperately trying to swallow my urge to say something foolish like Hellooo, Dr. Hottie .
He glances down at the chart. “Miss Woods?”
“Um…” I croak, much to Mrs. Weston’s amusement. “Yes, that’s, um, me.”
“Come into my office,” he offers politely, standing by the door as he waits for me to enter.
As I walk past him, the scent of his cologne consumes me.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
Turns out my libido is alive and functioning perfectly.
Just breathe.
Be yourself.
Act cool.
He closes the door, taking his seat behind the wooden desk. I wonder what it would be like to have sex right here. Would we push all the papers off the desk like you see in movies? It’d create a mess, though, and who’s cleaning that up?
God, I’ve lost the plot.
“I’d like to introduce myself… I’m Dr. Wilde. I’ll be Dr. Green’s replacement while he’s recovering from surgery.”
I smile awkwardly, silenced by my dirty inner monologue, which has now thought about how sexy his lips would be buried between my legs.
Once again, he glances at the chart. “So, you’re here to stay on birth control, is that correct?”
And as if the universe— Cupid, perhaps —decided to give me a break, I smile in return and straighten my posture. “Yes, Dr. Wilde, I plan on being sexually active.”
“ Let’s take a look at your medical records, shall we?”
Dr. Wilde sits across from me, reading a folder filled with notes about my medical history. I sit in the awkward silence, wondering what he’s thinking. My overstimulated brain is conjuring up a million different scenarios.
And why is this room so damn hot? It’s still winter.
Despite the snow stopping earlier in the week, it’s lingered on the lampposts and around the town square where the gazebo sits.
The trees, while bare, have snow still covering their branches.
If you drive farther into the mountains, there’s plenty of snow for sledding.
I spot the thermostat on the wall. It’s not even that hot, but beneath my ivory wool coat, sweat begins to form, and I’m pretty sure my cheeks are flushed.
The problem is not the room. It’s the hot young doctor sitting in front of you.
I’m drawn to the way he concentrates while reading, brows narrowing to focus.
His hair is a lighter shade of brown, almost a dark blond, which is parted to the side.
My eyes then gravitate toward his sharp jawline, which is freshly shaven.
The more I observe him and his desire for my medical history, the more panic begins to creep in.
I’m far from being a hypochondriac, but then I remember the time Dr. Green had to do an emergency tampon removal in my senior year of high school.
I called on Maddy, as my best friend, to help me first, but she started freaking out.
Her freak-out made me freak out even more, which I believe to this day lodged the tampon even farther up my vaginal canal.
Mom also tried, but by then, there was no choice but to seek intervention.
Even though Dr. Green assured me it’s quite common, I was completely mortified. It was a month after I’d lost my virginity to Henry Painter, this guy from my English class, so I assumed it was the perfect time to start using tampons. Boy, was I wrong.
We’d dated for four months before we did the deed, but after the tampon incident, I realized I wasn’t ready for a relationship—and all the stuff that came with it—and called it quits.
“According to Dr. Green’s notes, you’re in good health.”
My shoulders loosen as I release the tension I’d been building up. “That’s always good to hear.”
He chuckles while reaching for the blood pressure machine beside him. “Let me check your blood pressure first.”
As he wraps the Velcro strap around my arm, I glance at the desk again.
There’s no photo frame with wedding pictures or kids.
Nothing in this space would indicate he is married, including his bare ring finger.
My lips curve upward slowly, but then the loud sound of the Velcro ripping brings me back to reality.
“So, tell me a bit about yourself,” he says, gazing at me with eyes that distract me from why I’m here at this consult. “What do you do for a living?”
“I own the donut café on Ginger Grove. It’s called Donuts Ever After.”
His grin distracts me, along with his perfectly white, straight teeth. “Ah yes. I’ve heard good things about the place. A friend of mine suggested the gingerbread donut. To die for , according to her.”
Does he mean girlfriend ?
I smile in return, thinking of ways to extract this information.
“Oh, really? So, I guess you’re new to town.”
“Yes and no.” He leans back in his chair, relaxing his posture and fixing his lab coat. “Dr. Green is a family friend, so we’ve been visiting him for as long as I can remember. I moved here from Chicago a few weeks ago.”
“And, um…” I twist my hands but put on a smile so as not to appear like I’m stalking his personal life, even though I clearly am. “By yourself?”
He nods, followed by that sexy grin. That grin will get me into a whole lot of trouble.
Thinking of him in a nonprofessional way is surely violating some sort of doctor-patient regulation.
I wonder if he would leave the coat on. It’s like a role-play dream except he is an actual doctor, which makes it ten times hotter.
“Yes, unfortunately. I recently broke up with someone.”
I pout my lips. “I’m sorry. Breakups are never easy.”
He places his hand on the desk with a thud. “Enough about me. We are here for you. So, you want to continue birth control?”
“Yes, I like to be responsible in case, you know, I meet someone.” I gulp, then shake my head.
“Better to be prepared than not. The last guy I slept with was…” I try to do the math in my head but then become hyperaware Dr. Wilde is staring at me with a smirk.
“Okay, too much information. I’m sorry.”
“Miss Woods—”
“Please call me Eva. Everyone else does.”
“Eva,” he says smoothly. “What we discuss in this office is confidential. I like my patients to know they can talk to me about anything.”
“So, what you’re trying to say is you give medical and relationship advice?” I question with a laugh. “My best friend, Maddy, would be here in a heartbeat if she found out.”
“Look, you’re doing the right thing by being responsible. There’s nothing wrong with consenting adults enjoying their, let’s say, freedom . I’ll just write this script for you as I’m sure you have better places to be.”
Great, he’s pushing me out the door .
I sigh loudly, unaware I had done so until he raises his chestnut-brown eyes to meet mine. Something inside of me stirs, and I can’t remember the last time a man made me feel this way.
Why does he have to check all the boxes but be off-limits?
His hand extends. “Here is your script, Eva.”
“Thank you, Dr. Wilde.” I quickly stand, then reach out to shake his hand. The moment I do, I regret my decision. His hand is warm, inviting, and large. It is a simple touch, but enough to make me realize I am lonely. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
With my purse in hand, I turn to go. As I reach the door, Dr. Wilde calls my name. When I turn around, he’s sitting at the edge of his desk with his arms crossed.
I notice how muscular he looks with the coat tightening around his biceps and swallow the lump caught inside my throat.
“Outside the office, you can call me Marco…” His lips upturn and there’s a gleam in his eyes. “Everyone else does.”
I nod, then tilt my head, smiling.
Maybe, just maybe, things are not as off-limits as they seem.