Playing Doctor

Chapter Five

Leaning forward, I tried to follow his logic but I couldn't seem to grasp it.

"With my delivery business, I can make sure everyone has access to potatoes. And other tubers. Old man Roberts taught me about the famine and stuff, but I was the one that put together this plan," he said proudly. "I've been working on it for years, and I have the route worked out. See, the great thing about tubers is that they aren't as delicate as other fruits and vegetables, so transporting them over longer distances, like all the way to the coast, is less of a problem. In fact-"

I wanted to point out that the coast was only an hour, maybe an hour and a half, from Portland. If that was as far as he was going to save people from starving to death, most of the country was doomed. But that would have been rude, so I sat there and occasionally mumbled some encouragement to mask the fact that I was mentally reciting the periodic table.

I'd reached selenium when the doctor leaned over and tapped Art on the shoulder. "I think I just saw a meter maid headed for your truck."

"Shit." Art jumped up and started for the door. Then he whirled around, scrabbling around in his pocket before he pulled out a pen and piece of paper. "Give me your number. I'll call you."

"Um. Okay." Feeling his impatience to save his truck, I quickly jotted my number down. I'd barely handed it to him when he swooped in and kissed me. I averted my face quickly enough that his lips only grazed my cheek.

"Next time." Art winked at me and then shot out of the café.

"Was that a threat?" the doctor asked, watching Art run down the street.

I turned on him with a frown. "What was that about? There was no meter maid."

He shrugged. "I didn't want to see you pass out from boredom. Your eyes were glazed over."

"They were not." Not noticeably in any case. I hoped.

"You can do better than that." He shook his head. "Any woman can do better than that."

"And I suppose better equates to you." I stood and tossed my unfinished tea in a garbage can.

"Well, yes," he said modestly, standing and following me. "I'm certainly better than your tuber friend. But he was right about one thing."

"What?"

"Our sparks."

I vehemently shook my head. "No. We have no sparks."

"You're right. They were more like shooting fireworks." He grinned at my sour expression. "You can't fight it, darling. Some things are meant to be."

My turn to snort. "Next you'll be telling me that fate's throwing us together."

"It is weird running into each other again." He reached for my arm to move us out of the way of another patron.

Not wanting him to know how unsettled I was by his touch (in a hot and bothered way) I frowned. I didn't trust myself to sound normal with his hand on me.

"I'd say it was a coincidence but I don't believe in coincidences," he continued.

I didn't either. "I believe in free will."

His eyebrows arched in surprise. "So do I, but isn't free will how we handle what fate throws our way? Fate is us running into each other over and over. Free will is what we decide to do with the meeting."

With each word he leaned closer to me until he filled my field of vision. I should have pulled back, but it was like he had some sort of magnetic field that wouldn't let me go.