Page 8 of Dream a Little Dream

“Didn’t she just kiss you goodbye?” Was the world upside down?

“Definitely. She kissed my cheek. Her six-foot-two boyfriend probably wouldn’t like anything more intimate.” Kyle smiled into her glass, and I felt foolish first and then victorious.

She looked over at me, hitting me with that Kyle brand of sexy eye contact. “I’m entirely single. What about you?”

“You should know you’re looking at a single who doesn’t often mingle. At least not enough. My friend Jonathan is working on me like I’m his fall break project.” Why was I confessing more than I should, and why did I start in rhyme? I blinked and pretended the moment hadn’t happened.

“You have made me smile about eight times since we met. And how is it that you don’t mingle, as you say, much? You’re very pretty. You have these big brown eyes with these gold flecks that just…captivate.” She sat back in her chair. “Is that okay to say? I would hate to make you feel objectified and should probably have smoother moves than remarking on your appearance. Like I said, I work a lot.”

“Objectification is welcome,” I said too loudly, and then leanedmy chin in my hand. I made the give-me-more gesture, and she laughed again. I felt powerful and wanted to hear the sound as much as possible.

“That’s nine times. You’ve very cute, too. I love the auburn. Or is it red?”

I made a show of twisting it around my finger. “Left to interpretation.”

“And what about my earlier question?”

“I don’t date a lot,” I said sincerely, “because I don’t love putting myself out there. There’s a vulnerability that comes with dating, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would. So, no boyfriend in the picture, then. Got it.” She was fishing. It was glorious.

“Nogirlfriend, you mean.” That was the information she wanted, and I knew it. I sipped my martini delicately as I reveled in the give-and-take.

“Oh, really?” Kyle said loudly and turned on her stool in dramatic fashion. “You don’t say.” Her overly enthusiastic delivery ushered in my turn to laugh.

“I do.”

She touched her glass to mine. “What are the chances that you get stuck in a door, I leave my hotel room in the exact right moment to discover you, we both end up at the same bar several blocks away.”

“We’re both single,” I supplied.

“Both date women.”

“Both love wiener dogs.”

She laughed. “I never said that part.”

“You don’t love wiener dogs? I don’t know that I can continue talking to you.”

“Except I adore them. My neighbor had one when I was a kid. Herman. He was a gentleman.”

“Thank God for Herman. That was close.”

She pressed on. “I’d say the chances of all of those things aligning are pretty slim.” We shared an extended moment of what Lindy used to describe as soul-infused nonverbal connection. She’d shown me demonstrations onGeneral Hospital.

“Want to take a walk with me?” Kyle asked. What I wanted to do was sweep the hair from her ponytail off her shoulder just so I could find out if it was as soft as it looked. A walk was a good second place option.

“I do,” I answered without looking away. What was happening right now? It felt like every little detail had just clicked into place. There was attraction, a conversational rhythm, and the stars all aligning. This was a giant arrow sign designed for me, me, me. It had to be.

Kyle signaled the bartender and took care of both checks, which included my meal. “Thank you so much, but you didn’t have to do that,” I told her as we walked out. “Though you are a rich doctor.”

She laughed. “I wish I was. Residents aren’t exactly at the high end of the pay grade.” She shrugged. “Maybe one day I’ll climb the ladder, buy a nice car.”

“You’ll get there, Soap Opera Doctor that you are.”

“And are you full-time with the rentals?”

“No. The Airbnb is a new side venture. I’m the manager of a small-town grocery store where everybody knows your name.” I paused. “Well, at least I do. I take pride in greeting my customers personally.”

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