intense.”
“Told ya.” I tossed a loaf of white bread into the cart, looked up at Fletcher, then replaced it with a whole grain loaf. Didn’t want the good doctor to think I wasn’t nourishing my unborn child.
“Who’s the father?” he asked. When I scowled, he quickly added, “Of the Cabbage Patch dolls? If she’s the mother, who is the father?”
“My deceased father,” I replied. “Though, I’m sure she’d have Pastor Irm be the father, if she thought she could get away with it.”
“Who’s Pastor Irm?”
We stopped next to the small display of fresh flower bundles, and I studied Fletcher as he examined a bouquet of bright yellow daisies. “Pastor Irm is the reverend in the church I grew up in. My mother’s in love with him.”
He raised his blue eyes to meet mine. “Are they dating?”
“No.” I shook my head. “They’re both widowed, and devoted to their dead spouses like a couple of martyrs.”
“But she’s in love with her pastor?” He picked up two bunches of daisies. One white, and one yellow. “Which ones do you like?”
Holy Hannah! Was he buying me flowers? I pointed to the white ones and started planning which vase I was going to put them in when I got home. “Yes. She has been for years. My brothers and I tease her all the time, but she won’t admit it.”
Fletcher put the yellow daisies back. “Why not? Will you and your brothers be upset?”
“Not at all.” I laughed. “Actually, it would be a relief. Maybe if she found love, she would stop obsessing over our lives a little bit. Plus, it would be nice to see her happy. She’s really lonely.”
His smile returned. “Maybe she’ll be happy when she has a new grandbaby to enjoy.”
Nodding, I led him up to the counter, where a white haired woman started scanning my groceries. “I think so. Though she’s none to pleased that her daughter is single and pregnant.”
“Lots of single women have children,” he said. “It isn’t unheard of.”
I offered him a one-shouldered shrug. “She’s sort of old fashioned. She still calls her answering machine the recorder-thingy, and keeps her remote control in a kitchen drawer, because she’s afraid the laser will start a fire.”
“Wow.” Fletcher stifled a laugh. “Well, maybe she’ll adapt with time.”
“Here’s hoping.” I handed the old woman my debit card, and eyeballed my—er, the— flowers. Okay, so I had no reason to believe the flowers were for me, but I couldn’t help myself. We were getting along so well. And when he’d touched me, it felt like being shocked by fresh laundry coming out of the dryer. “Either that, or she’ll use it to guilt trip me into going to church with her every week for the rest of her life.”
Snickering , Fletcher placed his groceries on the belt next to mine. “You’re something else. Do you know that?”
That’s good, right? I tried to present him with a flirtatious, over-the-shoulder glance, but it came off twitchy. “So, got a hot date tonight, doctor?”
His blue eyes rolled down to the flowers, and a lovely shade of red saturated his cheeks.
Ask me to dinner. Like… now . Ask me. I’ll say yes. I swear I will .
“I, uh, well, yeah.” He looked up at me, his gaze veiled with thick blonde lashes.
Blinking at him, I waited. This was the moment. My obstetrician was going to ask me to go get coffee. Or maybe even dinner. My stomach clenched. Would he ask me to dinner? And if so, would I have any pants to wear that closed
“Told ya.” I tossed a loaf of white bread into the cart, looked up at Fletcher, then replaced it with a whole grain loaf. Didn’t want the good doctor to think I wasn’t nourishing my unborn child.
“Who’s the father?” he asked. When I scowled, he quickly added, “Of the Cabbage Patch dolls? If she’s the mother, who is the father?”
“My deceased father,” I replied. “Though, I’m sure she’d have Pastor Irm be the father, if she thought she could get away with it.”
“Who’s Pastor Irm?”
We stopped next to the small display of fresh flower bundles, and I studied Fletcher as he examined a bouquet of bright yellow daisies. “Pastor Irm is the reverend in the church I grew up in. My mother’s in love with him.”
He raised his blue eyes to meet mine. “Are they dating?”
“No.” I shook my head. “They’re both widowed, and devoted to their dead spouses like a couple of martyrs.”
“But she’s in love with her pastor?” He picked up two bunches of daisies. One white, and one yellow. “Which ones do you like?”
Holy Hannah! Was he buying me flowers? I pointed to the white ones and started planning which vase I was going to put them in when I got home. “Yes. She has been for years. My brothers and I tease her all the time, but she won’t admit it.”
Fletcher put the yellow daisies back. “Why not? Will you and your brothers be upset?”
“Not at all.” I laughed. “Actually, it would be a relief. Maybe if she found love, she would stop obsessing over our lives a little bit. Plus, it would be nice to see her happy. She’s really lonely.”
His smile returned. “Maybe she’ll be happy when she has a new grandbaby to enjoy.”
Nodding, I led him up to the counter, where a white haired woman started scanning my groceries. “I think so. Though she’s none to pleased that her daughter is single and pregnant.”
“Lots of single women have children,” he said. “It isn’t unheard of.”
I offered him a one-shouldered shrug. “She’s sort of old fashioned. She still calls her answering machine the recorder-thingy, and keeps her remote control in a kitchen drawer, because she’s afraid the laser will start a fire.”
“Wow.” Fletcher stifled a laugh. “Well, maybe she’ll adapt with time.”
“Here’s hoping.” I handed the old woman my debit card, and eyeballed my—er, the— flowers. Okay, so I had no reason to believe the flowers were for me, but I couldn’t help myself. We were getting along so well. And when he’d touched me, it felt like being shocked by fresh laundry coming out of the dryer. “Either that, or she’ll use it to guilt trip me into going to church with her every week for the rest of her life.”
Snickering , Fletcher placed his groceries on the belt next to mine. “You’re something else. Do you know that?”
That’s good, right? I tried to present him with a flirtatious, over-the-shoulder glance, but it came off twitchy. “So, got a hot date tonight, doctor?”
His blue eyes rolled down to the flowers, and a lovely shade of red saturated his cheeks.
Ask me to dinner. Like… now . Ask me. I’ll say yes. I swear I will .
“I, uh, well, yeah.” He looked up at me, his gaze veiled with thick blonde lashes.
Blinking at him, I waited. This was the moment. My obstetrician was going to ask me to go get coffee. Or maybe even dinner. My stomach clenched. Would he ask me to dinner? And if so, would I have any pants to wear that closed
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