Doctor For Hire

“I’m still working on this piece.”

“You’re a slow eater,” she says.

“When something is this… special you want to savor it,” I tell her, which causes Tabitha to go into a coughing fit.

“Good Lord, Tabby. You really need to learn to chew your food,” her sister chastises.

“I’m so glad you’re enjoying your food, Brody. I’m kind of proud of it. I came up with this recipe all on my own!”

“It’s… unique…” I answer and in response Tabitha’s hand hits my leg and her nails bite into my trousers. It’s almost painful, but I sure as hell won’t complain. I look at her and she’s definitely trying to keep from laughing. Any minute now she’s going to bust out with laughter that shakes her whole body. As much as I want to see that, I figure if I make her do that she’ll find a way to be mad at me for hurting her sister’s feelings.

“I get tired of the same old, same old. You know all the magazines have these recipes that look great, but if you start reading them they all contain basically the same ingredients. I like to think outside the box.”

“I can tell,” I murmur, really wishing she’d kept to the same old, same old…

“Wait till you see what I’ve cooked up for dessert!” she announces and I think my chest tightens to the point that I might be having a heart attack. Hell, even my palms sweat. I’m actually scared to see what she comes up with.

“Let me just go finish it up and I’ll be right back!” she says, way too excited for my sanity. I watch as she walks away and when the door to the kitchen closes I look at Tabitha.

“Please tell me whatever is involved in dessert is better than dinner?”

“I wasn’t around when she made it so I couldn’t say,” she laughs quietly. She also takes her hand away and I instantly miss it.

“Dare I ask what is on this… What did she call it again?” I ask, moving my fork around to the food on my plate. I use the word food, very loosely here.

“Magic chicken,” Tabitha giggles.

When I look over at her, her eyes are sparkling with laughter. She’s smiling and it causes these sweet little dimples to show on her face. She doesn’t have makeup on and I can see this one lone beauty mark by her top lip that I’ve never noticed before. I have the strangest urge to reach over and run my tongue against it.

I distract myself by looking at the chicken.

“What’s this on it?” I ask, and I stab the “skin” on the chicken with my fork. As I pull the fork away strings of pink and green goo follow.

“Marshmallows.”

“Marshmallows?” I ask Tabitha not quite believing it. Although, now that she mentioned it they do look like little small colored marshmallows…

“Have you heard of fried chicken that people use cornflake cereal to make the crust?” she asks.

I nod my head yes. I don’t personally care for it—but, then again, I don’t eat a lot of fried foods in general.

“Hil doesn’t like cornflakes,” she shrugs.

“So—”

“So she uses her favorite cereal that just happen to have miniature marshmallows in the shapes of diamonds and horseshoes and…”

“Christ…”

“See? Magically delicious,” Tabitha says and she does her best not to laugh, but instead it bursts out—causing her to snort. She covers her mouth, but by this time she’s laughing so hard she does it again. “You really should see your face! You can’t say I didn’t warn you, Dr.—”

“Brody,” I tell her quietly, suddenly not feeling like I want to laugh. I suddenly feel very serious.

“Brody,” she whispers, traces of her laughter gone and her dark eyes trained on me. They have questions and though I have an idea of what they are asking, I ignore them… at least for now.

Before I can question myself I slide my hand against the side of Tabitha’s neck and pull her to me. I lean in and take her lips in a kiss. Tabitha is tight against me at first, her body stiff. But, I don’t give up. I apply pressure under her chin and along her jawline. I run my tongue between her lips, sucking the bottom one into my mouth. Eventually Tabitha relaxes and her lips part just enough for me to slip inside, tasting her for the first time.

It’s a quick kiss, nowhere near the length I crave. It’s long enough to become addicted to her taste, to memorize how incredibly soft her lips are and to know I want to kiss her again.

“This could be a bad idea,” she murmurs.

“Or a really fucking good one,” I tell her and go in for another kiss. Before I can however, there’s a really loud clanging noise from the kitchen. Tabitha jumps and our foreheads crash against each other—and damn that’s painful.