Page 4 of Blind Date with a #Doctor
And just like that…I’m not so sure I want to leave anymore.
Chapter Two
Carter - 10 minutes earlier
This is the dumbest thing I’ve agreed to all year and that includes the time I said yes to being the designated Easter Bunny at the hospital, only to discover the costume was at least two sizes too small and smelled like a locker room.
But here I am. Sitting alone at a table in Bistro 9, waiting for a date I didn’t ask for. All because Nan told me I “work too much” and “need someone to look at me like I’m not just a free clinic on legs.” It was easier to say yes than to argue.
I thought, worst case, I’d get stood up. Best case, it’s someone tolerable. Someone who wouldn’t make me want to fake a medical emergency just to escape.
It’s five minutes past seven, and my water glass is empty. The hostess keeps glancing my way with that pitying look people reserve for abandoned puppies and men on first dates who’ve been ditched.
I tap my fingers on the table. Check my watch and consider texting Nan something passive-aggressive like,Thanks for setting me up with a no-show, can’t wait for book club gossip hour.
That’s when the door opens and Aspen Hayes walks in. Of all the people I expected to see tonight, she was not on the list.
She spots me almost immediately, pauses like she’s half a second from turning around and sprinting for the door, and then—slowly—makes her way over.
“Oh,” she says, blinking like she’s trying to make sense of the situation. “It’s you.”
“Hi Aspen.” I stand up, trying to play it cool, though I’m pretty sure my pulse is loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear. “Yes, It’s me.”
We both stare at each other for an awkward beat. Then, at the same time we laugh.
“Please tell me Nan put you up to this,” I say, gesturing for her to sit.
“God, I hope so,” she mutters, sliding into the chair across from me.
“Same. Though if it’s any comfort, you’re my first mystery blind date.”
She smirks. “Wow. What an honor.”
Aspen Hayes is smart and beautiful. She’s the kind of woman who makes you feel like you need to get your act together just by standing next to her. We’ve known of each other for years. Same town, same community events. But we’ve never crossed into the same orbit long enough to really talk.
Until now. Apparently, we’re on a date.
“Should we just call it?” she asks. “Make our escape and tell Nan it was lovely, but we’re simply too busy to date right now?”
I grin. “We could.”
“But… we’re already here.”
“And I’m starving.”
“There’s that too.”
“Alright,” I say, grabbing a menu. “We stay.”
“We stay,” she agrees.
At first it’s awkward between us. We fumble through the usual small talk—work, weather, the ridiculousness of Nanorchestrating our social lives like she’s the mayor of Love Canyon. Then the food comes and Aspen relaxes. I do too.
Turns out, she’s easy to talk to. Sharp and funny, with this dry sense of humor that sneaks up on you if you’re not paying attention. She tells me about a recent case she won, about the absolute circus that is small-town law, and I listen, genuinely interested.
Somewhere between the bruschetta and the main course, I realize I’m having fun. And not the polite kind of fun where you smile through gritted teeth and count down the minutes until you can go home. Actual, effortless, surprising fun.
“You know,” I say after she makes me laugh for the third time in five minutes, “I had a whole plan to fake a page from my service if this was terrible.”
