Page 36 of Flirty Thirty

He snorts at me like that’s a ludicrous question. I pull out Google, ask him who he has for insurance, and he babbles answers off at me without a shred of hesitation. Full name, social security number, date of birth, dental hygiene history. Having him so willing to share that information has my curiosity reeling, and my lips turn into a wicked grin in the glow of the screen light.

“Sexually active?” I ask, even if it’s not part of the questionnaire. He catches on quick, leaning against the bathroom doorframe, his minty breath washing over me.

“Not currently, but definitely in the near future.”

I playfully roll my eyes up to him, but there is a rush of heat that rests just below my belly. I press my thighs together and remind myself that he is in too much pain to make “near future” into the present.

“Okay, I got you in with a Dr. Jenkins at a clinic by my office. They do late emergency work.” I slip his phone into the top of my dress and flick my gaze up to his. Even while clutching at his jaw, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek, the look he gives me is so stomach-joltingly gorgeous I lose my train of thought momentarily. He lifts his free hand up, stroking a single finger across my forehead, brushing away a curl.

A hot shiver runs up my spine, setting off goosebumps up and down my arms. The corner of his lip lifts before there is a slight wince of pain in his expression.

“Thank you,” he says, almost reverently, his voice low and dripping like honey. I feel it in the depths of my chest, shocking my heart into a frenzied rhythm. I have to swallow hard and blink my gaze away from his to get a grip on myself.

Smiling my way out of the daze, I playfully tap the back of my hand against his stomach. “Let’s go.”

He follows me outside, grabbing his wallet and keys while still holding his jaw. I’ve never been a nurturing sort, but I like the idea of taking care of a strong wall of muscle who has been taken down by something as human as a toothache. I don’t blame him; those suckers hurt like a bitch. I’ve had one root canal in my lifetime, and I don’t revel in the idea of experiencing it a second time.

Saving him from having to squish into my bug, I hold my hands out for the keys to his truck. His bushy eyebrow lifts, and after a reluctant pause in which we have a quiet stand-off, he relinquishes the right to sit behind the wheel of the Mud Monster. I don’t exactly blame him for that either—he has driven with me before. I put Cruella De Vil to shame in terms of aggressive driving, but since he’s putting so much faith in me, I decide that I’m going to be especially careful with his six-figure investment on wheels.

Cooper gets called back almost immediately after we arrive, the office dead now that it’s after hours. The receptionist offers him an ice pack, and I internally chastise myself for not thinking of that earlier. I chalk it up to the fact that I’m completely out of my element. Have to say, I’ve never gotten to the point in a relationship where I make appointments and escort my SO on errands. If this was part of his plan to show me that sparks will fly even during the mundane, talk about commitment.

“Don’t let me take Loritab,” he tells me, sliding in to the dentist reclining seat. “It will be your top most regret.”

I set my hand on the headrest, running my thumb nail over his blond locks. “It sounds like it will provide memorable entertainment.”

His eyes roll back at my touch, heavy lids closing as I run my fingers through his hair. An amused grin teases the corner of my mouth as he lifts a finger to press it to his lips. “Shh,” he says. “You’ve found my off button.”

Warmth starts to spread from my fingertips to my thumping heart. Giving him innocent pleasure fascinates and confuses me in equal measure, and a stray thought flies across my mind, a thought I’ve never had before—I could very well have a lifetime of just this and find myself happier than I’ve ever been.

My fingers pause, tangled in the soft strands of blond and silver. I shake my head hard, closing my eyes even to banish the thought back to where it originated from. Cooper shifts under my hand, and I pull away, opening my eyes and forcing a grin. I’m saved from having to answer the concern in Cooper’s pulled eyebrows when the dentist walks in.

“Well,” he says, eyes skating over my dress before flicking to Cooper in sympathy. “I bet this isn’t how you expected the night to go.”

Cooper chuckles, meeting my gaze briefly before answering Dr. Jenkins. “I did have other plans for my mouth.”

An embarrassed—and I admit, flattered—flush rises up my neck, and I playfully backhand him in the shoulder.

“That mouth’s gonna get you in trouble.”

The dentist chuckles at our banter, settling in to the swivel chair next to Cooper. He slides on a glove and coaxes Cooper’s chin down. “Let’s take a look, shall we?”

Cooper opens his mouth so wide that I’m fairly impressed by it, but it’s not surprising. With how often he lets it run, I’d be more surprised if he had a small mouth.

“Yep, definitely lost that crown.” He pulls his finger from Cooper’s chompers and leans back in his seat to address the both of us. I thought I’d feel uncomfortable, maybe even overstepping my boundaries by being here. Yet, it feels as natural as breathing. That thought is the only thing that makes me shift slightly toward the door.

“I can put in a temp for now. Cover that nerve while you two continue your evening. Then we can put in a permanent replacement tomorrow afternoon.”

Cooper shakes his head. “We have plans we can’t break.”

My brow furrows, and a speck of amusement dusts his blue irises.

“Babysitting, Maya.”

“Right.” I laugh, shaking my head at myself. It’s funny how he remembers agreeing to watchmyniece and nephew more than I do.

“Next opening I have is on Monday,” Dr. Jenkins says. “The temp should last the weekend.”

“Sounds good.”

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