This person or…this patient?
She pushed the thought away and let the compliment roll over her like a tidal wave, completely surrendering to the power of it. Had anyone ever said anything like that to her?
No.
“That’s…nice.” She laughed at the ridiculous understatement. “And it’s…” She took a breath, terrified to finish, but wanting so much to say it. “It’s mutual.”
A slow smile pulled, revealing the shadow of one dimple, perfect teeth, and a light in his eyes that she wanted to get lost in.
“Well, what do you know,” he muttered. “Cowgirl likes me. Now what?”
“Now I tell you a little more.”
“Please,” he whispered. “Tell me everything.”
“Okay.” She shifted a little, gathering her thoughts, diving into the deep end because she liked him—and trusted him—so much. “I am perfectly capable of living a full, independent life, although it took some work to persuade my family that was true. But I have. And I’m also perfectly capable of… having a normal relationship.” Heat crept up her neck, but she pushed through.“Most of my spinal cord is just fine. The parts that make a person…a person? Those work.”
He studied her, understanding in his eyes. “Of course they do.”
“Try explainingthaton a first date.” She let out a shaky laugh. “Or, you know, even getting to the first date when the guy sees your wheels and panics. It just…felt easier not to try. School was safer. Work was safer. Animals never look at me like that.”
“Like what?” he asked.
“Like they’re calculating all the things I can’t do instead of the things I can.” She toyed with the cardboard sleeve on her coffee “So, yeah. Long answer to your question, but that’s why I haven’t dated.”
He nodded slowly, like he was filing every word away. “For what it’s worth,” he said, “I think any man who can’t see past that chair is missing out on a lot. Any guy would be lucky to be the one beside you.”
Her heart thudded at that tiny preposition.Beside you.Not pushing, not leading.Beside.
“You’re very…open-minded,” she murmured.
“I’m very interested,” he corrected. “Is that okay?”
She let herself really look at him then—the tousled hair still damp from the scrub sink, the strong hands that had just saved a sheep’s eye, the kindness that never seemed to leave his expression.
“It’s…more than okay,” she said. “Because I am very interested, too.”
“Good. Can I take you out to dinner?”
She laughed, then, buoyed both by the question and the lightning speed that he asked. “Yes,” she said. “And maybe I’ll even get my first kiss.” She winced and covered her face. “Can’t believe I just said that.”
Slowly, he pushed his chair back and stood. She looked up, uncertainty crawling over her at his serious expression.
Wordlessly, he stepped around the table, came right up to the side of her chair, and lowered himself so they were the same height.
“How about we get that first one out of the way,” he said softly. “Because if I don’t kiss you right now, I’ll spend the next day or so kicking myself.”
She took a slow breath, letting her gaze drop to his beautiful mouth, already imagining the feel of his lips.
“May I?” he asked.
She could only nod.
He lifted a hand, giving her every chance to pull back, and then his fingers brushed her cheek, warm and careful and so, so gentle, the hint of antiseptic soap still clinging to him.
He leaned in, eliminating the last inch of space, and pressed his mouth to hers.
The kiss was soft and steady and sure, his lips were warm, tasting faintly of coffee and something uniquely him. He kissed her like she was precious and strong and exactly who she wanted her to be.
