Perfectly Adequate(31)
For someone who has issues sorting emotions, I feel that … the giddiness over good food with really good company.
He continues, “I can’t believe I’ve lived here my whole life and never eaten here. I mean … I’ve driven by it hundreds of times. It makes me wonder what other hidden treasures around Portland that I’m probably missing. I really need to stop being such a creature of habit. Get out more and try new things.”
“If you can do that, then you probably should.” I shrug. “Not me. I need my habits, familiarity, predictability.”
“And friendly exercise competition.” He shoots me a sexy grin.
“Yeah.” I nod, wearing my own grin as I start to slide past him to get into my car.
He rests his hand on the top of my car to stop me. “So … the pizza and salad were the best I’ve had. But…” he leans in, reducing the distance between us to approximately twelve inches “…so was the company. Roman excluded.” He winks.
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he repeats on a whisper. “Is okay good?”
I force myself to hold his gaze since he’s so close to my face. “It’s perfectly adequate.”
His firm, pink gums and nice teeth steal the show as he grins.
Yep, total flosser.
“I’m going to kiss you goodnight.”
“I figured. I wore the dress for it. And that’s why I ate that mint after dinner and offered one to you.” I rub my lips together. They’re still lubed from my post-dinner lip balm application.
He sure does smile a lot at me. It beats the usual snickering and eye rolls. When our mouths connect, he tastes like mint. I like mint. Peppermint, not spearmint. Cinnamon is okay in a pinch, but too much cinnamon irritates my tongue. Hot Tamales at the movies leaves my taste buds fried for days. But totally worth it.
Dr. Hawkins presses his hand to my neck and slides it up to cup my jaw, taking the kiss to the next level with a little tongue. French kissing isn’t usually my thing. Too much saliva. But he’s not salivating like a dog, or suffering from a painful case of dry mouth, so the kiss is acceptable. Such a Goldilocks moment. Dr. Elijah Hawkins is my just right.
When the kiss ends, he lets me slide into the driver’s seat. Then he ducks inside and kisses me again. A hungrier kiss. Instead of wondering how long the kiss will last or planning what I will say when the kiss ends, I cup his face and fully participate.
I let myself revel in the fact that the sexiest doctor at the hospital is kissing me. He smells good. Tastes even better. And makes me want sex, not something I want on a regular basis. Yet, it’s all I can think about right now.
Breaking the kiss and breathing heavily, I keep ahold of his face. “I vacuumed the crumbs from Gemma’s dog treats out of the backseat.”
His eyebrows pull together.
“And she doesn’t shed, so we wouldn’t get dog hair all over us.”
“Are …” His gaze shifts over my shoulder for a few seconds. “Are you suggesting we get in your backseat?”
“I got the Q5 because it’s roomier than the Q3. Not for having sex, for Gemma. But since the room is there … well.” I shrug.
Please say yes. I’m dying a little here, buddy.
“Sex? In the backseat of your car? Now? In this parking lot?”
“The windows are tinted.”
“Dorothy …” He chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m a doctor at the children’s hospital. My son goes to the daycare there. We are within miles of it. Patients … their parents, other doctors or administrators could happen to stop here to eat. We could get arrested for lewd acts … public indecency.”
“Okay.” I release his face, but he doesn’t move. So we’re just two people not planning on having backseat car sex, hovering really close to each other. “Welp …” I pull my mouth into a tight-lipped grin. “Thanks for dinner. Say hi to Roman for me.”
He gives me a look … a real emoji, but I can’t decipher its meaning. Confusion?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mild Insanity
Elijah
“Goodnight, Dorothy.” What can I say? My Dorothy Mayhem high hits a level so high I’m not sure my feet feel the ground beneath them.
The lesson for the night?
Expect the unexpected—whiplash with a deadpan delivery.
Did passing up the opportunity to go down on her, followed by hardcore adult reasoning for not having sex with her in the back of her car, make me the most responsible man in Portland or just a run-of-the-mill dumbass?
I ease my upper body out of her car and give her one last smile and easy nod. “Drive safely.”
“Sure thing, Dr. Hawkins.”
“Eli. Dorothy …” I shake my head. “You can’t suggest what you just suggested and then call me Dr. Hawkins.”
“Well, as you just reminded me, we could see people from the hospital, and I should keep things professional.”
“Touché. Goodnight.” I shut her door. As she fastens her seat belt and plugs her phone into the charging outlet, I just stand here, like a stalker.
I love my job, in spite of watching so many young people suffer and sometimes lose their battles with cancer. The fight to find a solution keeps me motivated. I love being a dad to Roman, even if I have to give him up every other week. I love lunch on Fridays with my mom. Family dinners. Morning runs and evening hikes along the dense forest trails.