揑抦 doing all right, Miss McCarthy. Can抰 complain.?
揧ou were always my favorite Daniels, Connor.?
Garrett puts his hand over his heart.
揟hat hurts.?
Ryan pipes up from behind me, 揑 thought I was your favorite Daniels, Miss McCarthy.?
She glowers at him, her full, firm cheeks pulling downward.
揧ou weren抰， Ryan James.?
Miss McCarthy is the only person on earth outside of my parents who automatically tacks on Ryan抯 middle name. There抯 a backstory there.
Today, Ryan抯 a respected, well-liked Lakeside police officer with an impeccable service record. But back in his teen years he was a jackass. And I don抰 mean your run-of-the-mill, clueless adolescent kind of jackass. I抦 talking hardcore obnoxious, noogies to freshman skulls, cherry bombs in the toilets, mooning the opposing football team across the field at halftime type of jackass.
Until junior year, when a curly-haired, Brooklyn-born girl named Angela Caravusio moved to Lakeside and started dating him.
I remember it like it was yesterday. The day Angy stood in our living room in front of my parents and brothers and told Ryan in that Carmela Soprano杛inger of an accent, 揑抦 not goin?out with a frigging jackass, Ryan. Grow up!?
I think that was the day my brother fell in love with her. It was the day we all kind of fell in love with her.
Because that was the day Ryan stopped being a jackass.
揂ll right梞y ice cream is melting; we gotta get going,?Miss McCarthy says. 揋arrett, I抣l see you Monday, bright and early. Connor . . . ?and her tone drops back to funeral-lite, 揔eep your chin up. Being single has its benefits. Just look at me.?
Yep. Super. Living the dream.
揟hanks, Miss McCarthy. That抯 comforting.?
After we go inside and grab diapers for Charlotte, a just-in-case-they-need-it gallon of milk for Ryan, and a pack of protein bars Tim has been dying to try, we check out and head back toward my truck.
When we step outside, the sun抯 at that low, dipped angle that feels like it抯 aiming its blinding orange light directly into your pupils. So it takes a second for my vision to clear.
But when it does, I see someone. Someone I know.
A few feet away, pushing her cart across the parking lot toward her powder-blue Volkswagen Beetle convertible in denim cut-off shorts and a tiny white T-shirt. Her chocolate-brown hair is in a high, long ponytail梩he soft, wavy strands lifting gently in the spring breeze.
At work, it抯 crucial to keep hair out of the way梒onfined by the tight elastic band of a mask or twisted into a secure bun at the top of the head. I抳e never actually seen her hair down. But I抳e thought about it, imagined it條ong and loose, thick and silky梞ore times than I抣l ever admit.
Ryan bumps into my back. 揑s this your first day walking??
But Garrett follows my line of sight.
揥ho抯 that??he asks.
揤iolet Robinson. One of the nurses from the hospital.?
Timmy stands beside me, looking where I抦 looking.
揝he抯 cute.?
揧eah,?I reply with an involuntary sigh.
Because the truth is, Violet Robinson is so much more than cute.
She抯 gorgeous梚n that easy, effortless way that says she抯 clueless about it.
And she抯 a rock-star nurse. Solid, sharp under pressure, intelligent, and indispensable. I抦 pretty damn quick on my feet, but I once saw Vi fly across the room to perform the Heimlich on a choking patient before anyone else had taken a single step. And she had great technique梥trong hands, firm pulls.
In my book, a woman who gives good Heimlich is every bit as sexy as one who gives good head. Possibly sexier.
Now all four of us stand there watching her, but Violet doesn抰 notice. It抯 like she抯 lost in her own little world as she hops onto the handle of the shopping cart梑racing her midsection against the bar, feet off the ground, so she can coast playfully across the lot.
It抯 a move I would probably tell my kids not to do梑ut with her endless toned legs stretched out long and lithe behind her, she reminds me of a ballerina.
Elegant and graceful.
I raise my arm. 揌ey! Hey, Vi!?
She turns in the direction of my voice, and there抯 this slow motion moment when our eyes meet. There抯 a spark of warm recognition in hers, and her lips start to curve into a sweet smile.
But then they stop.
And she goes down hard.
Smacking the pavement when her shopping cart crashes into the light pole she never saw coming. The cart tips on its side, her groceries spilling and rolling across the pavement.
Maybe graceful was too strong a word.
Violet抯 . . . occasionally clumsy. Occasionally a lot.
Not when she抯 working, but in those in-between real-life times when she抯 eating or walking . . . or breathing.
揝hit.?I jog over with my brothers right behind me.
Because like I said: gentlemen.
I offer her a hand up from her knees.
揧ou okay??
When she抯 on her feet, she lets go, brushing dark gravel specks off her knees and shins.
揧eah, I抦 all right.?She lifts her face to mine, her pretty cheeks flushed and pink. 揘othing broken but my dignity.?
I chuckle. Too fucking cute.
Ryan rights the shopping cart while Tim and Garrett pick up the scattered bags and groceries.
I spot a box under the green Lincoln beside us and crouch down, scooping it up and handing it to her.
揌ere you go.?
It抯 a box of tampons. Forty-eight count, regular and super absorbent梖or those heavy days.
揟hanks.?She smiles. 揥ould抳e sucked to not have these when I needed them.?
揑 bet.?I nod.
It抯 pretty much impossible for emergency department staff to get embarrassed. About anything. We抮e too desensitized to nakedness, blood, bodily fluids, colorful cursing, and the inventive ravings of both the mentally ill and derangedly intoxicated.
We抳e seen it all, heard it all . . . smelled it all.
揧ou working this week??I ask casually.
揧eah, I抦 on days starting Tuesday.?
Nurses work in twelve-hour shifts, three days on, then three days off.
揑抦 on Tuesday too梔ays.?
She nods, smiling梙er big brown eyes sparkling like two dark diamonds in the sun.
At work, I rarely have the opportunity to really look at anyone. It抯 too hectic, too busy. Every minute is too important. But I look at her now.
I soak up the view of her heart-shaped mouth, the soft slope of her cheeks, the delicate arch of her brows over her wide, unguarded eyes, and the long line of thick lashes that fan out over creamy skin every time she blinks.
Christ, she抯 pretty.
揥e抣l be working together on Tuesday, then.?
揧eah,?I agree. 揥e will.?
There抯 a loud pause, and without any more small talk left, I hook my thumb over my shoulder.
揥ell, we should probably get going.?
揧eah, me too.?Vi gives a little wave梞anaging to make the benign gesture cock-twitchingly adorable. 揃ye, Connor. Bye, Connor抯 brothers.?
Garrett and Ryan lift their chins while Timmy replies in his distinct pickup tone, 揝ee ya around.?
Violet walks past us to her car and I force myself not to turn and watch her go like some kind of weirdo staring creeper.
Timmy lets out a wolf whistle when Vi抯 out of earshot.
揝he single??he asks.
揧eah, I think so.?
For clarification: I know so.
Among my many talents, I抦 kick-ass at listening to conversations around me while appearing completely preoccupied by something else. It抯 a gift. Also a handy skill when keeping tabs on what teenage kids are really up to.
揧ou ever ask her out??Timmy asks as the four of us start walking back to my truck.