“Nice to meet you, Alex.” He’s grinning at me with straight white teeth.
He’s polite, almost formal, but there’s something silky about the way he says my name, like he’s rolling it around his mouth, enjoying the feel of it. I shouldn’t like it. Idon’tlike it. At least, I’m trying not to. Either way, this isn’t a made-for-tv movie, and I’m not falling for a fucking meet-cute. Nice try, universe.
2
Branson
Iwas just heading back to my office after having lunch with my cousin when the foul-mouthed woman came around the corning, ranting about doctors, and bounced off my chest like a rubber ball.
She knocked the wind out of me and then lay there on the ground, swearing. I’m a pretty smart guy, but it took a solid second for my brain to catch up. And then she opened those baby blues, staring daggers at my soul, and stole my breath all over again.
I can’t tear my eyes off her. White-blonde hair is escaping the edges of her red beanie, framing her angelic features as she sasses the shit out of me for trying to help her.
I’ve only ever seen the town’s new baker from a distance, but I’ve heard a dozen stories about her from my patients. “Mouthy” is the most popular descriptor used and now that I’ve met her, I’m inclined to agree. But far from finding it annoying, every smart-ass comment out of her mouth sends blood rushing south. One more swear out of her, and I’m liable to pass out from lack of oxygen to the brain.
Unconscious with a massive boner—that’s sure to make a great first impression, right? I clear my throat and try to stop thinking about what she’d look like out of that cropped jacket. The hips and thighs say curves for days, and it’s enough to make my mouth water.
“So how about it?” I ask, trying to reel back a shred of professionalism. She stares at me, brows knitted.
“How about what?”
“Can I just—?” I take a slow step toward her, reaching for her hat. I bite my cheek to keep from chuckling. She accused me of talking to her like a pony and that’s exactly how I’m approaching her now; slow and deliberate to avoid spooking her. I grasp the pom-pom, using it to lift her beanie.
Soft wisps of hair lift at funny angles, giving her an adorable, rumpled appearance. She watches me warily as I circle behind her. Her hand is still rubbing her ass through her tight jeans. I let my eyes flick down to her full curves, imagining the feel of her in my hands for just a second before forcing my attention back to her scalp.
There’s no blood, so I run my fingers through her roots, checking for a bump. I find one but it’s nothing concerning. She shivers under my fingers and it’s only then that I remember she’s soaked in coffee. I slide my coat down my arms and try to wrap her in it.
Alex immediately slips free, leaving me holding the coat over empty air. “Really, I’m fine.” She stoops to pick up her phone from the pavement and swears as she looks at the shattered screen. “Look, Brandon.”
“It’s Branson.”
“Sure. So, this has been great, just an awesomely good time, but I’m late getting back to the bakery.” She backs away. “And now I need to buy a new phone. I’ll see you around.”
She turns and hustles away, coffee dripping from her coat. I watch her go far longer than I should.
With a grin, I turn and head for my office. Mildred, my silver-haired assistant, greets me from the receptionist’s desk, her eyes glued to the game of Solitaire on her screen. “Welcome to Sugar Creek Physicians. Do you have an appointment?”
“Just me, Mildred.” I give her a wave as the door shuts behind me.
She blinks up at me through her thick glasses. “Oh. So it is. How was your lunch?”
“Excellent. We’re done with appointments for the day, right?” Mildred blinks at the computer screen again and nods.
“Why don’t you head out early? Go see your grand babies?”
Mildred is standing and collecting her things before I’ve even finished my sentence. She blows me a kiss as she shuffles out the door. “Happy Friday, Doc.”
I chuckle and head for my office. Small town doctor is a good gig as long as you’re not in it to make money. I sit in my office chair and shuffle papers. There’s literally nothing left to do. I spin in my chair, slowly. Images of the curvy baker creep in… along with images of her broken phone.
I jump to my feet, grabbing my things, and stopping just long enough to turn off the lights and lock up. Sugar Creek just got its first stop light a couple of years back. We certainly don’t have a place to buy a new iPhone, but it’s not far to the outskirts of Portland. I’m back on Main Street an hour and a half later, gift in hand.
Mildred makes fantastic coffee and has a penchant for bringing me her leftover baked goods, so I haven’t really had a reason to visit the Sugar Creek Bakery since it re-opened last spring. But I have a reason now.
I grin at myself as I step inside and spot said reason. She’s sitting at a table in the dining room, leafing through a recipe book. The worn wood floors of the dining room creak under my feet as I pass by delicate chairs, feeling like a bull in a china shop. They don’t exactly make pretty furniture for someone as big as me.
I pull out the chair across from Alex and sit, setting the gift bag with the phone in it on the table. Her eyes flick up to meet mine, brow knitted. And then she recognizes me. Her eyes flare for just a second; an involuntary reaction that she clamps back down.
“Can I help you with something?” she asks, gaze darting between me, the bag, and the rest of the dining room.