CHAPTER TEN
Emma
Ahandon my shoulder shocks me into awareness, and I jump up from my seat with a gasp. “Aren't you supposed to be reading that to your grandmother?” Jackson asks me with a raisedbrow.
“Should you be listening in on conversations?” I question, mirroring his raisedbrow.
“It's part of my job sometimes,” heargues.
“Right.” With a grin pulling at my lips, I close Grams’s book and slip it into my bag before swinging it over my shoulder. “Normally, I might shower and freshen up before a ‘date,’” I tell him, making sure to air quote the worddate.
“Hey, I offered to reschedule,” he says, taking my bag off my shoulder. “What do you have in this thing?” He swings it over his free shoulder, seeing as his backpack is hanging off hisother.
“My life,” I tellhim.
“You have a heavy life, Iguess.”
“Not really, but my laptop is heavy,” I say with a bit ofsarcasm.
“Fair enough,” he replies while pulling open the heavy glass door to the outside, unveiling a heavy downpour of rain. I hadn't looked out the window since I tried to get some fresh air earlier, but it was perfectly clear with a blue sky then. The drastic change in whether proves how long my day has truly been. I must already look totally disheveled, but now I’ll be soaking wet on top of it. Not a good look for a first date with a handsomedoctor.
“Why don't you wait here, and I'll come pick you up?” I suppose I didn't consider the whole driving situation either. We both have cars here, but it would feel awkward to drive separately todinner.
“It’s okay, a little rain won't hurt me,” I tellhim.
“I insist,” he says handing me back my bag. “Staydry.”
He runs out, holding his bag over his head as puddles splash up the sides of his jeans that I'm only now noticing he has on. I've only seen him in scrubs, but I like the way he looks in jeans and his leather jacket. I feel my pulse speed up, and I know if he keeps having this type of affect over me,Imay need a heartdoctor.
I watch him until he disappears into the parking lot across the street, and I quickly power up my phone and flip my camera around to see how bad I look.Please don't have dark circles of worn-off makeup caked up under my eyes.Somewhat surprised, my reflection reveals that my hair isn't too bad and most of my makeup is still on.I could look worse.I guess if he sees me like this, hopefully he’ll be pleasantly surprised if there is a second date—one where I have time to fix myself upfirst.
A dark car pulls into the main roundabout and parks in front of the doors. I don't know much about cars—it's never been my thing, but I know this car is sleek looking and it’s a Mercedes, and I've never been inside one of one before. I guess there’s a whole list of “firsts” for metoday.
I open the door to run out, but Jackson jumps out of the car with an umbrella and runs toward me. “What are you doing?” I shout over the thunder andrain.
“I don’t want you to get wet, I told you.” Is he for real? The men I have come across, don't act likethis.
I watch him curiously as he opens the passenger-side door and I slide in, still dry as a bone. He closes my door and makes his way back around to his side, closing the umbrella, tossing it into the back, and sliding in. His dirty blond hair is soaked and spiked in every direction and his jacket has droplets of rain dripping down the sleeves. “You’re drenched,” I tell him, stating theobvious.
“I’ll dry,” he says, glancing over at me with a smallsmile.
“You are quite the gentleman. Are you always like this?” I ask with a raised brow. That came out a bit sarcastic. I didn’t intend for it to, but I honestly didn’t think there was a man left on earth who acted so cordially. I could easily get used tothis.
“What do youmean?”
I settle my bag between my feet, but he picks it up and places it on the back seat. “I wasn't aware there was a man around who still opened doors for women and picked them up in a rainstorm. I thought chivalry was dead.” Dad certainly never did that for Mom when they were together, and through my years of dating in high school and college, I never witnessed such a good-old-boy act ofkindness.
“I was raised by two women, so I guess that has something to do with it,” he says throughlaughter.
“Two women?” Iquestion.
He looks over his shoulder and pulls away from the curb. “Yeah, my dad left when I was two, and my sister is thirteen years older than Iam.”
“Wow,” I say. “Are you still close with yoursister?”
“Very. She has her own family now, and I like to be around my niece and nephew whenever I can.” All I can think to myself is that heisthe perfect man; perfect manners, good looks, a great job, cares about people, and likeskids.
“If you tell me you’re Jewish, my mother might get a Rabbi to marry us in the hospital tonight,” I say, but immediately regret the words.That’s rude. Regardless of what Mom and Grams like to say about me marrying a nice Jewish Doctor, it's something I should probably keep tomyself.
