Page 35 of Doctor's Demands
“You have no idea how lucky I feel to have been won by you.”
“Shhh, don’t talk that way in public, baby. My biggest fear is being found out. But you know that, don’t you?” I ask her as I open the door.
She nods and goes inside before me. Then she reaches back to take my hand. “I do. I’m sorry. I’ll be normal now.”
We sit in a booth, right next to one another, and the waitress comes to us, dropping a couple of menus on the table. “What’ll you two be drinking this fine morning?”
Petra looks at me. “You pick for me.”
“Two coffees and waters to go with those.”
The look on the waitress’ old and wrinkled face concerns me as she eyes me, then says, “Dr. Cantrell, from Beverly Hills Reconstructions?”
Well, fuck!
Petra
Owen looks like a deer in headlights, so I hurry to help him by saying, “Haha! Not again, baby.” Shaking my head, I look at the waitress. “My husband, Roger, gets this all the time. He does resemble the handsome doc from television, but he’s no surgeon. He owns a construction company in Boise, Idaho. But I do have myself a nice-looking man, don’t I?”
The old woman doesn’t even blink as she stares Owen down. “And he sounds like him too. I’m a religious watcher, saving up my pennies to get a facelift. I was once Miss Portland, and I’d like to get back at least some of my former beauty.”
“Cigarettes, huh?” Owen asks.
I look at him with squinted eyes, hoping he’ll realize he’s giving himself away with his spot-on question. “Baby, don’t be rude!”
“He’s right. I do smoke.” Her eyes narrow at Owen and I feel him fidgeting beside me.
“Well, dang, ma’am,” Owen says with a very phony southern accent. “I’s just tryin’ to be helpful. My granny smoked something awful, and she lost her looks too. Keep saving them there pennies, and you can get fixed right up, I betchya. Can we have our drinks?”
Looking over her shoulder, she finds the man at the cash register giving her the stink-eye and nods, then hurries away. I try my hardest not to burst into laughter but fail and have to bury my face in Owen’s shoulder to keep the noise from traveling through the busy café. “Damn, baby!”
He’s smiling up a storm and looking at me with lights in his eyes, then he kisses my lips quickly. “You’re one smart little wife there, pumpkin-butt.”
Blushing with the after effects of him calling me his wife, I mumble, “Someone had to say something. You froze up and looked like you had no idea what the hell to say. I bet you had that same look on your face when I said your name that night.” I tweak his nose, and he wrinkles it.
“I might’ve. I didn’t realize I looked so paralyzed. But I was. Thanks for saving me.” He kisses me again and grabs my knee under the table.
The woman comes back with our drinks and looks directly at me. “I didn’t notice any wedding rings.” She places the cups on the table and dares me to say a word.
Owen chuckles. “We came here to rekindle our spark, ma’am. We left the rings home, along with our young’uns, Billy Ray and Bobby Sue. We’re pretending to be dating, instead of the married couple we are.”
“Hmmm,” she mumbles, then walks away.
Owen leans in close and whispers, “Think she’s buying this at all?”
“Not sure, but you’re going to have to use that hillbilly accent on me later. I think it’s so sexy.” I giggle, and he chuckles.
“You got it, ma’am.”
With the waitress, fast approaching, I say, “Let me order. You should stop talking. She’s already got her eagle ears on.”
“Eyes,” he says.
“What?”
“Eagle eyes, not ears. I think you mean elephant ears. They have big ears. I’ve never even seen an eagle’s ears. Have you?” he asks, then looks up as the waitress is looking at him.
“So, no goofy accent when you whisper, Dr. Cantrell?” she asks with her hands on her hips.
