Full Package(17)

I hold up a fist for knocking. “Count on it.”

This role now? This is what matters. It’s a jungle out there, and if there’s anything I can do to help Josie Hammer navigate her way through it, I will. I can sniff out a douchebag. I can protect her from the fuckers of the world.

When she calls me a little later, I’ve got my first assignment.

“Doctor Decoder at your service,” I joke, stepping away from my buds.

“He’s choking,” Josie says. Loud music plays in the background, and she sounds rattled and on her way to panicked. I go into instant ER mode.

“What’s going on?”

“My date. Henry. He’s choking and can barely talk, and he’s got an EpiPen in his hand, but he’s struggling to use it. Do I just stab it in his thigh?”

Her voice is strained, understandably, jammed with the nerves I’ve heard countless times from others in her situation.

“Yes,” I say, all-business as I march out of the noisy pool hall. I’ll text Wyatt later and let him know where I went. “It’s easy. Jab it in his thigh, click it, and I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Stay on the phone with me,” she says, her voice shaky.

“Absolutely.” I hail a cab and zip over a few blocks to Bar Boisterous, keeping her calm the whole way as her date starts to breathe again.

Once inside, I quickly find Josie with a bearded hipster dude and take over for her. I help him out of the bar, and we take him to the nearest emergency room.

Even though it’s a busy Saturday night, they see him stat, and it’s not just because he has a personal escort with an MD. It’s because Josie’s date came this close to having one hell of a bad ending to his night.

The guy’s allergic to peanuts, and there were trace amounts in the pesto sauce in the sandwich he ordered at Bar Boisterous.

Two hours later, we leave Henry safe and sound with the doctors and nurses. They’ll take care of him now, and make sure he’s doing fine.

The hospital doors close behind us, and I turn my attention once more to Josie.





10





From the pages of Josie’s Recipe Book

Waffles with Strawberries May Lead to Unexpected Moments





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Ingredients



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2 cups strawberries, quartered 2 eggs

2 cups flour

1? cup milk

? cup butter, melted

2 tablespoons white sugar 4 teaspoons baking powder ? teaspoon kosher salt 2 teaspoons vanilla extract





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Directions



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1. Preheat your waffle maker according to its instruction manual. C’mon, you know you have the manual. This is the first time you’re making waffles from scratch. Admit it.



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2. While it is heating, prepare your batter. Add one cup of strawberries to your blender. Puree until smooth. Don’t get distracted by words in recipes like “smooth,” which is how you picture Chase’s chest.



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3. Add the eggs, butter, milk, and vanilla extract to the strawberries, and blend until smooth. Add half the flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder, and do the same. Add the remaining flour mixture and blend until well mixed. Stir in the remaining strawberries. Funny thing. Strawberries remind me of Chase’s favorite dessert—the yummy strawberry shortcake cupcakes I make for the Sunshine Bakery. I should really make him some. I like the way his hazel eyes light up when he eats them, as if they’re the best thing he’s ever tasted.



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4. When your waffle maker is preheated, spray with cooking spray and begin making your waffles. Pour the batter into one corner and smooth into the other corners with a spatula. Cook. Remove waffles from waffle maker and set aside. Repeat until all waffles are made. Or until you decide to go out for waffles at one of the many amazing establishments in Manhattan that make way tastier waffles than even a baker can make. Bonus—no clean-up or storage of a ridiculously heavy object. Besides, having waffles with Chase is more proof of how well we fit as roomies, especially since I want to talk to him about that crazy date that just ended.





11





Out on the street, Josie breathes a huge sigh of relief, then plants her hands on my shoulders. “I can’t thank you enough.”

A cab squeals by, on a hunt for a fare at the end of the block. I wave away her thank-you. “Don’t even think twice about it. I barely did a thing.”

She squeezes my shoulders harder, her eyes pinned on me. “No. You did everything.”

“You’re the one who worked the EpiPen. You hardly even needed me.”

She shakes her head. “You’re wrong. I totally needed you. Being able to call you, having you join me, taking him to the hospital . . . Chase,” she says, taking a beat, “that was everything.”

It wasn’t everything, not even close, but I can’t deny that my heart fucking races from the compliment. I wish I didn’t like it so much.

She tilts her head. “I’m starving. Want to go to Wendy’s Diner and order waffles? On me.”