Page 8 of Blind Date with a #Doctor (Love Canyon: Blind Date #3)

Carter

By Monday morning, I’ve officially given up pretending this thing with Aspen is casual. I’ve tried.

I spent Sunday telling myself that bumping into her at the farmer’s market and the coffee shop was just coincidence. That the little thrill I got every time I saw her was normal.

Then I caught myself checking my phone every five minutes, wondering if she’d text. I even debated texting her first, just to say something ridiculous, but I held back.

I had a plan—a simple, solid, not-at-all-desperate plan. I planned to wait until Monday to call her like an actual adult and ask her to dinner.

Which is exactly what I do. When she picks up on the second ring, voice warm and teasing. I’m screwed.

“Carter,” she says. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I grin. “I was just wondering how long I should wait before asking you out again. Thought I’d at least try to play it cool, but I’m realizing I have no idea what that actually means.”

She laughs. “Two days. Not bad.”

“So does that mean I can buy you dinner this weekend?”

“Hm,” she hums, pretending to think. “I do enjoy food.”

“That’s a good start.”

“And I suppose the company wasn’t terrible last time.”

I chuckle. “Wow. High praise.”

“Alright, Carter. Saturday night it is,” she answers with a giggle.

“Perfect.”

For the first time in a long time, I actually spend the week looking forward to something. Not just because Aspen is beautiful. Or smart. Or because she keeps surprising me. But because I know this thing between us? It’s something special.

* * *

I pull up outside her house, expecting her usual polished, professional vibe. Something sleek. Classic. I’m not prepared for Aspen’s dress.

The dress is black, low-cut, and clings in a way that should be illegal. Her hair is soft and loose around her shoulders, and her lips are painted some deep, rich shade that makes my brain short-circuit.

She climbs into my truck and smirks at me like she knows exactly what I’m thinking. “You good?” she asks innocently, buckling her seatbelt.

I exhale, dragging a hand through my hair. “Yeah. Just—damn, Aspen.”

She grins, pleased. “Glad you approve.”

“‘Approve’ isn’t the word I’d use,” I mutter, putting the truck into drive before I do something reckless like kiss her senseless.

* * *

Dinner is fun. Flirty jokes and lingering looks. Conversation that never slows down. Aspen teases me about how clearly flustered I was when I picked her up.

I tease her about pretending not to love the fact that she got me flustered.

We talk about our weeks. She tells me about an absurd case she’s handling, and I tell her about a kid at the clinic who keeps naming his stuffed animals after me.

And the whole time? She keeps dragging her finger around the rim of her wine glass, casually destroying my will to live. By the time the check comes, my brain is screaming, it doesn’t want to end the night yet.

Before I can figure out my next move, she makes it for me.

“So,” Aspen says, pushing her plate aside, “I think we should go bowling.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Absolutely. But first, I need to change.” She glances down at her dress.

Suddenly, I’m imagining her out of it, which is not helpful.

“You cool if we swing by my place first?” she asks. “Promise I won’t take long.”

“No problem. I’d like to see your place.”

She gives me a look. “You want to see my place, or you want to see me change?”

I grin. “Both.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. And I don’t miss the way she shifts slightly in her seat. I think she likes this as much as I do.

Her place fits her. It’s cozy and warm. Lived-in but put together. Soft blues and creams, built-in bookshelves, candles that smell like cinnamon and vanilla. And then there are the photos. I wander while she disappears into her bedroom.

There’s a framed picture of her and her brother. Some shots of her with Kendra. A handful of old photos—childhood Aspen with missing teeth and wild curls, grinning at the camera like she owned the world.

It makes something tighten in my chest. I imagine a little girl with those wild curls that looks a lot like Aspen and a little like me.

“Enjoying yourself?”

I turn to find her standing in the doorway, now in a thin sweater and jeans, looking so effortlessly gorgeous.

We step closer to each other like we’re being pulled together by some invisible string. I reach for her, fingers trailing over her waist, and her breath hitches. The air between us snaps tight.

“I should change more often,” she whispers, gaze locked on mine.

I smirk. “I’d offer to help next time, but I think we both know how that would end.”

Aspen laughs softly, tilting her chin up, closing the last few inches of space between us. I don’t even think about it, I just kiss her. Our kiss is slow at first, almost careful. Then she makes this tiny, perfect sound, and I’m gone.

I slide a hand into her hair, pulling her closer, and she melts against me, gripping my shirt like she needs to hold on.

Aspen pulls back first, breathing unsteadily, cheeks flushed. “Carter.”

I groan, pressing my forehead to hers. “We have to leave, don’t we?”

She nods. “Unfortunately.”

I exhale, forcing myself to step back. “Fine. But if I win, I get another kiss.”

She smirks. “You’re not winning and when I win I’ll tell you what I want.”

* * *

The bowling alley is exactly what you’d expect for a small-town Saturday night. Flashing neon signs, the scent of hot grease and buttered popcorn hanging in the air. The low rumble of pins crashing, mixed with bursts of laughter from teenagers who think they’re way cooler than they are.

And then there’s Aspen. Wearing jeans that fit entirely too well, a thin sweater that drapes just enough to make me insane, and a smug little smirk that tells me she’s planning my demise.

I should focus on my game. Instead, I’m focused on her hips as she saunters toward the lane, picking up a ball with slow, deliberate movements that make my brain short-circuit. She glances over her shoulder, eying me knowingly.

“So,” she says, adjusting her grip on the ball, “what’s the wager again?”

I drag my gaze away from her fingers wrapped around the smooth surface of the ball—which should not be as distracting as it is—and clear my throat.

“If I win,” I remind her, leaning in slightly, “I get another kiss.”

Aspen pretends to consider this, tilting her head just enough for a strand of hair to slip over her shoulder. “Hm,” she murmurs, turning back toward the lane. “And if I win?”

I smirk. “Name your price.”

She tosses me a glance over her shoulder, eyes dark and knowing. She lines up her shot, wiggling her hips just slightly, like she’s building momentum or trying to kill me where I stand.

I exhale sharply. “You always do that before you bowl?”

She grins and nods. “Superstition.”

“Right.”

She bites her lip, gaze locked on mine. “Is it distracting you? I wouldn’t want to do that.”

I chuckle. “Oh, I think you passed distracting five minutes ago.”

Aspen laughs, then turns her attention back to the lane, rolling the ball with perfect form. It glides smoothly down the center, smashing all ten pins with an effortless strike. She spins on her heel, throwing both hands in the air.

“Boom.”

I shake my head, grinning despite myself. “Alright, I’ll give you that one.”

From somewhere behind us, a group of whooping and hollering erupts. Aspen and I both turn. It’s the book club ladies.

Nan, Sally, and Marie are posted up at a booth near the snack bar, each with a glass of wine, looking way too pleased with themselves.

Oh my God,” Aspen mutters under her breath.

Nan raises her glass. “Don’t mind us, kids! Carry on!”

Sally sighs dreamily. “Oh, young love.”

Marie shakes her head. “I give them two more frames before they make out behind the shoe counter.”

Aspen groans, rubbing her hand down her face.

I just laugh. “You realize they’re never going to stop messing with us, right?”

“Oh, I know.” She points a finger at them. “You behave yourselves.”

Nan sips her wine like she’s innocent and we all know she is not.

We bowl a few more frames, our scores even. Aspen takes her next turn, and I swear she’s doing it on purpose now. She reaches for the ball, slow and deliberate. Then glances over her shoulder at me, biting her lip like she’s trying not to laugh.

The way her jeans hug her curves in a way that is actively ruining my concentration.

She bowls. Another strike.

I exhale through my nose, then take a deep breath.

“You okay over there?” she asks sweetly.

I give her a look. “You’re enjoying this.”

She shrugs innocently. “Maybe a little.”

“You realize there are only so many times you can do that hip thing before I—”

I don’t get to finish. Aspen closes the space between us, presses up on her toes, and kisses me. Not just a quick peck. A slow, lingering kiss, lips warm and soft, her fingers lightly grazing the front of my shirt. And I swear to everything holy, my brain completely malfunctions.

Behind us, the book club ladies erupt into applause—actual applause. Nan whistles and Sally claps.

Marie yells, “Finally!” like she’s been waiting years for this exact moment.

Aspen pulls away, cheeks pink, eyes sparkling. I just look down at her, completely undone. And I know if we weren’t in the middle of a bowling alley right now, I’d be kissing the hell out of her. Instead, I exhale sharply and drag a hand through my hair.

“Aspen,” I murmur, voice lower than I intended.

She grins, smug and beautiful and entirely too pleased with herself. “Your turn, Carter.”

I let out a slow breath. Focus and try not to get distracted by the fact that Aspen Hayes tastes like wine and trouble. I step up to the lane, rolling my shoulders, and grab a ball.

Aspen sidles up next to me, watching. “You sure you can focus after that?” she teases.

I glance at her, eyes hot and steady. “Guess we’ll find out.”

She laughs, but her smile falters slightly when I let my fingers skim over her wrist before stepping away. I see it. The quick inhale. The way her pulse jumps beneath my touch. Oh, Aspen, you’re not the only one who can play this game.

We go frame for frame, neither of us backing down. I win one round. She wins the next. There’s teasing, taunting, entirely too many loaded glances. And by the final frame? We’re both ready for something more.

“You win,” Aspen announces dramatically, tossing her hands up.

“You sound devastated.”

“Beyond.”

I grin, stepping closer, voice low and teasing. “So about my prize…”

She raises an eyebrow. “You think you earned a kiss?”

“I think I earned at least two.”

“Hm.” She pretends to think about it. And then, without warning, she grabs me by the collar and pulls me down. And kisses the ever-loving hell out of me. A full-body, up-against-me, fingers-in-my-hair kiss.

Aspen pulls away first, breath uneven, lips slightly swollen. I barely get my bearings before—Nan, Sally, and Marie explode into applause again.

Aspen groans. “We have to leave. Right now.”

I laugh, still dazed. “You started it.”

“Yeah, well, I forgot we had an audience.”

“Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but you and I have had an audience since the second Nan got involved.”

She sighs dramatically, then threads her fingers through mine, tugging me toward the door. I go without hesitation. I think I’d follow this woman anywhere.