I cover my face with my hand and shake my head. How did this dude end up with Josie all those years ago? Did she have to do all the heavy lifting?
No, I don’t want to think about my girl being the one to flirt with Nick.
Nope.
“That’s something you say to one of your patients. This is a woman that you want to get to know, a woman that you want to . . .”
“Don’t say it, Westbury.”
I eye him. “Fuck? Bang? Make looooove to?”
Nick blushes. “You’re so crass.”
“You’re blushing. Is it because you have a crush on me?”
He shakes his head. I reach out and touch his knee. “It’s okay if you do.”
Nick bats my hand away and I can’t stop laughing. “All right. I’ll stop but come on. You can’t talk to her like that.”
I sit down next to him. “Tell me something about her.”
“Okay, uh . . . her hair is a normal length.”
Another face palm. “Are you filling out a police report, Ashford?”
He goes quiet then, and when he finally talks, he doesn’t look at me. “She hums when she’s reading and she doesn’t know or think anyone is near her.”
“See, you are paying attention toher. What else?”
“Her hair. That’s why I said what I did. When she wears it down, she twirls a strand between her fingers when she’s concentrating. And she volunteers to read to the children at the hospital on the weekends. No one knows but me. I’ll watch her sometimes. She doesn’t shy away from the kids that are sick and when she’s there, their parents get a break for an hour. I don’t know if she knows this but that means a lot to them.”
“How come you haven’t talked to her at the hospital?”
“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want to mix work and pleasure.”
“We live in a small town. You either mix or you date in another town. And you’re too busy to date anyone from anywhere else.”
“I know.” He sighs. “Okay, so what do I do?”
“Compliments. All the time,” I tell him. “Tell her how nice it is to see her. Smile. Do whatever magic you used when you started dating my wife.”
“She wasn’t your wife,” he says sternly.
“Semantics.” I brush his comment away. “You need to sell yourself. Nick Ashford, single dad, doctor, football coach . . .”
“Chicks dig a coach,” Noah says as he sets fresh pints down. Nick and I both glare at him and he turns away.
“Dating used to be easy.”
“Life used to be easy,” I say.
Nick tears apart the napkin he has, shredding it into little pieces. “Fine, the next time I see her, I say what?”
“Compliment,” I remind him.
He sighs and clears his throat. “I noticed you hum when you read. You don’t know that you do it. I like it though.”
For the next hour, we practice different lines, things he can say to show he’s interested, and how he can talk to her without coming across as a parent whining about a duty he’s been assigned.
