Page 7 of Tempted By the Handsome Doctor (Curvy Wives of Cedar Falls #3)

I arrive at Riverbank Park thirty minutes early, because apparently impending fatherhood has turned me into the kind of guy who worries about punctuality.

The kind of guy who spends forty-five minutes deciding what to wear to a small-town fall festival.

The kind of guy who buys flowers on the way—then panics and leaves them in the car because they might seem too forward.

I settle for leaning against a lamp post near the park entrance, trying to look casual despite the knot of anxiety in my stomach. The fall festival is already in full swing, spilling out from the park's boundaries onto Main Street.

Booths with colorful canopies line the walkways, selling everything from hand-knitted scarves to maple candy. Children dart between adults' legs, their faces sticky with caramel apple. A band sets up on the small stage by the river, testing microphones and tuning guitars.

It's the kind of wholesome small-town event I used to mock when I was younger, desperate to escape Cedar Falls for the excitement of a bigger city.

Now, watching families stroll past, the afternoon sun turning the changing leaves to fire, I find myself wondering if I've been missing something all these years.

"Danny? That you?"

I turn to find Sheriff Mike approaching, his uniform exchanged for jeans and a Cedar Falls High School sweatshirt. We played football together back in the day, before I left for college and he stayed to join the police force.

"Hey, Mike." We shake hands. "How's it going?"

"Can't complain. Daughters are happy and well." He nods toward a pair of little girls in matching pumpkin sweaters, holding hands as they peer into a booth selling handmade jewelry. "What about you? Don't usually see you at these things."

"Just thought I'd check it out. Take a break from the hospital."

Mike raises an eyebrow. "Alone?"

I hesitate just long enough for his cop instincts to kick in. His eyes narrow slightly.

"Waiting for someone," I admit.

"Ahh." A knowing grin spreads across his face. "Anyone I know?"

Before I can answer, his radio crackles from his hip. "Gotta take this," he says, already backing away. "Have fun on your date, Doc."

Is it a date? Maya and I never defined it. We're getting to know each other for the baby's sake. Accelerated friendship, I called it. But as I check my watch for the third time in five minutes, my nervous energy feels decidedly date-like.

And then I see her, walking toward the park entrance…

Maya is wearing a rust-colored dress that falls just below her knees, paired with a denim jacket and ankle boots.

Her dark hair is down today, falling in soft waves around her shoulders.

No glasses—contacts, maybe—and the slightest hint of makeup that brings out the warmth in her eyes.

She looks beautiful, approachable, and slightly nervous.

She spots me and raises a hand in greeting, and suddenly I'm walking toward her, drawn like a magnet.

"Hi," she says when we meet in the middle. "Am I late?"

"No, I'm early." I resist the urge to touch her, to offer my hand, or lean in for a hug. We haven't established those boundaries yet. "You look nice."

"Thanks." A hint of color touches her cheeks. "It's weird to be out of librarian clothes."

"Weird good?"

Her mouth quirks up. "Just different." She looks past me to the festival. "I haven't been to one of these since high school. Dad used to have a booth selling old books."

"What would you like to do first?" I ask. "There's food, crafts, music..."

"Food," she says immediately. "I'm starving. Apparently growing a person works up an appetite."

I laugh, relieved by her straightforwardness. "Food it is."

We make our way into the park, falling into step beside each other. The food trucks are clustered near the river, a mouth-watering variety of options from wood-fired pizza to tacos.

"Any cravings I should know about?" I ask.

"Nothing weird yet," Maya says, scanning the options. "Though I did eat pickles with ice cream at 2 AM the other night."

"That's... inventive."

"It was disgusting." She wrinkles her nose. "But somehow exactly what I needed."

She settles on a pulled pork sandwich from the local barbecue joint, while I opt for fish tacos from a truck I've never seen before. We find an empty picnic table with a view of the river and sit across from each other. Maya takes a massive bite of her sandwich, closing her eyes in apparent bliss.

"Good?" I ask, amused.

"You have no idea." She dabs sauce from the corner of her mouth. "I've been nauseous all week, but today I woke up ravenous."

"That's normal," I say, then catch myself. "Sorry, you probably don't need me to doctor-splain pregnancy symptoms to you."

She laughs. "Actually, I don't mind. The internet is terrifying. Everything either means I'm having a healthy pregnancy or I'm about to die horribly."

"Fair point." I take a bite of my taco, considering. "The nausea usually eases up after the first trimester for most women. Not all, but most."

"When will we know? If everything's okay, I mean."

The question holds an edge of anxiety that makes me want to reach across the table and take her hand. I don't.

"Dr. Larsen will probably schedule an ultrasound soon," I say. "Around eight weeks is standard for a first look. This is your sixth week, right?”

"Yeah." She looks down at her sandwich. "Based on, you know..."

"Right." The night we met. The night that changed everything.

A slightly awkward silence falls. I search for a neutral topic. "So, how's the library?"

"Good. Busy." Maya seems grateful for the shift. "We just got a grant to expand our children's section. I'm designing a reading nook shaped like a treehouse."

"That sounds amazing."

"It's nice to have a project to focus on. To think about something besides..." She gestures vaguely at her belly.

"I get it." And I do. I've been throwing myself into work with even more intensity than usual, staying late to review charts, volunteering for extra shifts. Anything to quiet the voice in my head that keeps repeating *you're going to be a father* on endless loop.

"What about you?" she asks. "How's the hospital?"

"Hectic. We're short-staffed in the ER, as usual." I finish my first taco. "I've been thinking about looking at private practice options after residency. More regular hours."

"Oh?" She looks up, surprised. "I thought emergency medicine was your passion."

"It is, but..." I hesitate, not sure how much to reveal. "Priorities change."

Her eyes widen slightly, understanding what I'm not saying. That I'm already thinking about how to restructure my life around the baby. Around her.

"Daniel, you don't have to—"

"I know I don't have to," I interrupt gently. "But I want to consider all options. That's all."

We finish eating in silence, watching a pair of ducks navigate the lazy current of the river. It's peaceful, sitting here with her. Easy in a way I didn't expect.

"Want to walk around?" I suggest when we've disposed of our trash. "Check out the crafts?"

"Sure."

We wander through the rows of booths, stopping to admire hand-thrown pottery and intricate quilts. Maya pauses at a display of handmade children's toys—wooden trains and soft fabric dolls.

"These are beautiful," she says, running her fingers over a small stuffed rabbit with embroidered eyes.

"They are," I agree, watching her rather than the toys. There's a softness to her expression, a hint of wonder that makes my heart ache.

The woman running the booth, gray-haired and grandmotherly, beams at us. "Are you two expecting?" she asks.

Maya freezes, her hand still on the rabbit. I step in smoothly.

"Just browsing today," I say with a polite smile. "Everything is lovely."

"Well, keep me in mind when the time comes," the woman says with a wink. "I'm here every year."

We move on quickly. Maya is quiet, her shoulders tense.

"I'm sorry about that," I say once we're out of earshot. "People in this town are—"

"Nosy," she finishes. "I know. I grew up here too, remember?"

"Right." Sometimes I forget that Maya is as much a part of Cedar Falls as I am, with all the complicated history that entails. "Do you want to leave? We could go somewhere else."

She considers for a moment, then shakes her head. "No, I'm okay. Just caught me off guard."

"We should probably get used to it," I say wryly. "Small town, unexpected pregnancy..."

"God, the gossip." She looks horrified. "By the time I start showing, everyone will be counting backward to figure out when it happened."

"Would it help if we came up with a cover story? Secret engagement? Whirlwind romance?"

She snorts. "Because that's so much more believable than 'we had a one-night stand and here we are.'"

"At least it's a good story for the kid someday," I offer. "Better than 'we met in college and got married after graduation.'"

That draws a genuine laugh from her, the sound warm and bright in the autumn air. "True. Though we might want to edit out some details."

We've reached the small stage where the band is now playing, a local group covering folk rock classics. Couples sway to the music on a makeshift dance floor of flattened grass. Without thinking, I hold out my hand.

"Dance with me?"

Maya looks at my outstretched hand, then up at me, surprise written across her face. "Here? Now?"

"Why not? We're supposed to be getting to know each other, right? I'd like to know if you dance."

She hesitates, and for a moment I think she'll refuse. Then she places her hand in mine. "I warn you, I'm terrible."

"I find that hard to believe," I say, leading her toward the other dancers.

"Believe it. My dad used to say I dance like I have two left feet, and both of them are asleep."

I laugh, placing my other hand lightly on her waist as we begin to sway to the music. "I'll take my chances."