Josie was still wearing that expression a minute later when the waiter left, and this time Houston told himself to enjoy it. He had a cute, sexy woman smiling at him and he was worrying about it? That didn’t say good things about his mental health.
“So you’re twenty-seven,” he said, feeling that those six years between them stretched long and jaded. Or maybe age had nothingto do with it, and he was just cynical and selfish and had always been that way. “Why did you decide to be a surgeon, Josie?”
He was curious about her answer. Surgery really didn’t seem to suit her.
“Well, my dad was a surgeon.” Josie chewed her lip and stared at the table. “He died when I was fifteen, and it made him so proud to know I was going to follow in his footsteps.” Josie looked up with a soft smile. “And like you, I enjoy helping people. I’m a people person. My mom always said I never met a stranger.”
Unlike him, who lived surrounded by strangers, all because he never made an effort to be otherwise.
Josie’s pert little nose was wrinkled up, freckles dusting her cheeks on either side, and the temptation to slide into self-disgust faded. He smiled at her. “You’re definitely a verbal person.”
She laughed. “That’s a polite way to put it.”
“Not really. I like listening to you.” It surprised him, but it was true.
A little flush crawled up her neck. “Is your family close to here, Houston?”
Josie leaned forward and propped her face up with her hand, her leg crossed and swinging to the side of the chair. The tips of her perky breasts rested on top of the table, momentarily distracting him.
“They’re right here in Acadia. My mom, my sister and brother-in-law, and their two little girls. That’s part of why I took the job here, even though I was only twenty minutes away before.”
When confronted with questions about his family, he always gave the pat answers. Listening to himself and his stilted responses, it occurred to him for the first time that even if he ever wanted a relationship, it would be damn near impossible to expect a woman to fall for him.
A friendly dolphin was probably better company.
He tried a little harder, not stopping to wonder why he cared. “My nieces are four and two, Miranda and Abby, and they’re these little bundles of sticky energy.”
“Tell me something cute they’ve done.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, everyone has a cute story about kids. Tell me something cute.” She was sipping the soft drink the waiter had brought to her, and her tongue slid up and down the straw.
“Well...” Houston pictured Miranda and Abby, their dark hair tumbling across their faces, little rosebud lips curved in smiles or pouts or stubborn determination. “They call me Unca Ouston, which is kind of funny.”
Josie laughed. “Does their Unca Ouston spoil them rotten?”
“Not at all.” He took a swallow of his beer. “And no matter what my sister thinks, that inflatable ten-by-ten bounce house for Miranda’s fourth birthday was not excessive.”
“Oh my God.” She shook her head, clearly amused.
Houston settled back in his chair, spreading his legs out. This wasn’t so bad, this getting to know someone stuff. He almost felt relaxed with Josie, a feeling he usually only accomplished on a surfboard or eating his mother’s lasagna.
“I’m an only child. I wish I had nieces and nephews.”
“Whenever the urge strikes, you can borrow mine. Just be prepared to get really familiar with diapers and Dora the Explorer.”
“Do you want kids, Houston?”
He had always hated when women asked him that. It implied they cared what his answer was—that they were planning, hoping, assessing. Usually he tossed off a stone-cold no and watched their expressions change. Some women questioned why, some insisted he’d change his mind, and others looked at him like he had admitted he kicked puppies.
But they all left him alone after he assured them that he was a cold-hearted selfish bastard who had no interest in devoting his life to ungrateful brats. That killed the conversation every time. No woman had ever heard him speak the truth. That he desperatelywanted to be a father, that he would love to have a tiny warm body clasped against him in trust, but that he was terrified he wouldn’t be any good at it.
His own father hadn’t exactly provided him with a model to imitate.
Something, he didn’t know what, made him open his mouth and tell Josie Adkins the truth. “Sure, I’d like kids.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I can see that. You’ll focus every ounce of yourself on that child.” She brushed her bangs off her forehead. “Lucky kid.”