“I don’t know,” Arlene repeats, but this time she has half a foot over the threshold, her extremely flowy and colorful outfit on display.
“Well, we do.” Wanda bounces on the balls of her feet as she claps. “The dress fits perfectly, and I love the peek-a-boo slit. Check out those gams.”
Rita whistles on Wanda’s behalf, as she’s never been able to, and Arlene’s cheeks blaze pink.
“You look absolutely marvelous,” Grandma Helen says, and I didn’t realize she’d stood and come closer until her voice is near my ear and I get a very distinct finger poke between my shoulder blades. “Or happy or whatever Mia allows us to say.”
“How do you feel?” I ask, ignoring the teasing jab and earning a round of exasperated huffs for veering off-script.
“Self-conscious.” Arlene’s body language conveys the same, her blue eyes cast down as she tugs at the springy fabric. Anytime she adjusts, the slit at her knee falls open and then she bends to deal with that to straighten and fuss with the shoulder straps. “I’m not sure this is me. Lately it feels like I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
“I get it. Big changes leave me spinning, and I felt similarly when I lost my job. I’m not a fan of the unexpected, but at the same time, look where it’s brought me.” I pivot and smile, slinging my arm around my grandma and flashing smiles at Wanda and Rita before I turn it back on Arlene. “Here with all of you. Discovering I can sometimes like where the unexpected leads.”
“But the journey’s the best part,” Wanda says, and I accidentally roll my eyes.
Arlene catches it and snickers, easing up for the first time all evening, so I stand by my snark.
Then Grandma Helen demonstrates where I got my snark from by arching an eyebrow and saying to me, “Journeys are more enjoyable when you don’t treat them like a race.”
“Joke’s on you, I hate races too.” I pull a face, stopping just short of sticking out my tongue.
My grandma shakes her head and releases a melodramatic sigh, and I laugh and wind my other arm around her in a side hug. “Just giving you a hard time, Grandma. Like I said, I’m happy my journey has brought me to Lakeview and spending time with you. I’ll even go so far as to admit I like having a few hours in the evening to chill and hang before bed.”
I incline my head and rest it against Grandma Helen’s. “There, see? I’ve learned.”
“Let’s not get too carried away,” she says, a warm rasp to her voice. “I’ll believe it when I don’t catch you making to-do lists during TV time.”
My jaw drops, and then we’re all giggling.
I’m still antsy AF in the quiet stretches, incessantly spinning about how to raise occupancy by 23 percent, but these women are working their magic on me—they’re making me forget my blunders and faults so that I can actually enjoy the lulls.
Which is why this time, I slide my phone into my purse of my own accord, then I go and handpick a few outfits for Arlene, throwing my entire self into finding her a look that’s a little out of her comfort zone, but still suits her.
And I smile to myself, a bit wickedly, that I’m totally selecting an outfit for Noah’s grandma to go on a date.
Maybe if I pick one sexy enough, he’ll even come and yell at me.
Chapter Sixteen
Lady Luck must be on my side today.
She so rarely is that I seize the moment, lengthening my strides and picking up speed, my heels forming a staccato beat against the sidewalk.
“Hey, Dr. Vasquez,” I call, since we’re just outside the building where he works, even though it’s after hours. But then it feels oddly formal for someone I might be about to ask out. “Carlos?”
He slows and turns, and it hits me that he’s not dressed in his normal garb. Instead of slacks, a button down, and the white coat that deepens the bronze of his skin, he’s wearing mesh shorts and a sleeveless tee that showcases the muscle definition in his arms.
The smile he flashes causes a stutter in my step and my breath. “Mia, buenos días. I was just thinking about you, wondering how you’re settling in.”
My misgivings melt away, my steps lighter and more confident as I close the distance. “Aww, that’s so nice, thank you. I’m adjusting well enough; the real trick has been adapting to the fact that my failsafe methods don’t work on rebellious retirees.”
“Hey, if you figure that out, do me a favor and please let me know,” Carlos says with a chuckle. “They didn’t exactly teach me in med school how to successfully argue with patients who refuse to listen and think their age means they know better than I do, so they’re not going to follow my instructions anyway.”
“Seriously, getting them to do anything they don’t want to is like convincing a sloth to run a race—everybody loses in the end.” While venting about stubborn seniors hadn’t factored into any of the smexy scenarios I conjured in my head, I didn’t realize how much I needed the validation until he gave it to me—working with them was not for the faint of heart.
It also feels like we’re more and more in sync with every interaction we have, and my skin hums with the desire to find out more. Since I’ll lose my nerve if I get too focused on all the possibilities of anusrather than the steps needed to get us there, I veer our small talk back in a more premeditated direction.
“So, what are you up to this fine sunny afternoon?” Florida’s days are all fairly similar, which is hardly a complaint from this strictly seventy-degrees-and-above gal. “I thought maybe—”
