Dear Bridget, I Want You(13)
“That’s because it didn’t.”
“It didn’t? How do you know?”
“Because I turned it off last night before you turned in.”
“Why did you do that?”
Simon shrugged. “So you can sleep in.”
“Well, thank you. It’s been a really long time since I did that. And, God, it’s also been a really long time since I had a hangover. That wine really went to my head last night. I hope I wasn’t talking your ear off or anything. To be honest, it’s all a bit fuzzy.”
Simon took my empty plate to the sink. “Not at all. We had a nice chat and then you went off to bed.”
I sighed. “Oh, good.”
“After you read me your book.”
I froze. “What?”
Simon chuckled and put his hands on my shoulders. “Relax, luv. I’m teasing.”
“Thank God.”
He went back to finish loading the dishes. I didn’t have the energy to even offer to help. Plus, when he bent over in his scrubs, I could see the muscles in his ass flex. I might have been hungover, but I wasn’t blind.
When he was all done, he swung a chair around backward and straddled it at the table. “So, tell me your criteria for a bloke?”
“What?”
“Our double date.”
Crap. I’d forgotten all about that conversation last night. It was the wine talking. And maybe a bit of jealousy watching Simon go out on his date, too. “I’m not ready for that yet, Simon.”
He squinted. “I don’t believe you. I think you’re just afraid to get back in the saddle.”
For a guy I’d only known for a week, he’d figured me out pretty quick. Although I wasn’t about to admit that. “I’m not afraid.”
“Good, so it’s settled then.” He pulled a folded-up piece of paper from the chest pocket of his scrubs. “And here’s my wish list.”
“Your wish list?”
“For my fix-up. I thought you’d like some guidelines.”
I unfolded the paper. He’d written out a checklist of about five sentences. “They’re not in any particular order.”
His chicken scratch was barely legible. “Do they teach you to write like a seven year old in medical school?”
“Give me that. I’ll read it to you.” He reached over to take the paper from my hands, but I pulled it out of his reach.
“I’m a nurse. Just give me a second, and I’ll decipher it. It’s part of my job, apparently. Let’s see. Number one—no Pomeranians.”
Simon elaborated, “Better make that no little dogs, in general. Do you want a pencil to take down notes?”
I laughed. “No, that’s okay. I think I can handle remembering. No cute dogs as animal soulmates. Got it. What’s next? Let’s see. Number two—Apple bonnet?” My brows drew together.
Simon corrected me. “That’s apple bottom. I like a full rear. I was going to write badunkadonk, but I wasn’t sure how to spell that.”
“You want me to check out a woman’s ass before I fix you up?”
“Oh, come on. You women are always sizing each other up.”
“We are not.”
“Sure you aren’t. Go on, read number three. I don’t have all day. I have to get to the hospital and save lives like a superhero.”
“Number three—must like the outdoors. Well that one is a reasonable request.”
“All of my requests are reasonable.”
I ignored him in favor of continuing with his list. “Number four—must dislike Celine Dion.” I looked up at him. “What’s wrong with Celine?”
“She annoys me.”
“Her singing?”
“Nope. Just her, in general.”
“You’re bizarre, Simon Hogue.”
“So you’ve said.”
“Alright, what’s the last requirement? Let’s see, number five. No starfish.” I scrunched up my nose. “What do you have against starfish? They’re so pretty and harmless.”
Simon chuckled. “Not the marine echinoderm. A starfish. You know…” He leaned back from the chair, balanced on his ass, and spread all four of his arms and legs wide. “A woman who spreads her arms and legs during shagging and doesn’t get into it. She just lies there like a starfish. They’re usually silent, too.”
“Are you joking?”
“I wish I was.” He pointed to the paper. “Make that number one on the list if you’re prioritizing. It sorta freaks me out.”
Simon stood and looked at his watch. “Gotta run. You going to make me a list, or do I have carte blanche.”
“As amusing as I find your list, I’m really not ready for a fix-up yet.”