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The first time Sophie laid eyes on Ed Lane was right after he and Greg Parker thundered out of the back stairwell at 5:55 in the morning.
“YES!” said Ed, smiling. “We have time to grab breakfast before Grand Rounds.”
“I could use a cup of coffee,” agreed Greg, “but are you really going to try for food? You know all they have this early is stale bagels.”
“I’m starving, Greg, and I’m going to be in a nine-hour surgery right after rounds. This is my only chance to eat something.”
It was the first day of Sophie’s new contract with the hospital, and she was nervous about her job. She watched through the window of the kitchen door as the two men filled 32 ounce soda cups with coffee and waited for them to walk around the corner and find the new breakfast offerings. She couldn’t see their reaction from her vantage point, but she heard them.
“Oh my god! Greg, this is a blueberry crumble muffin. How did this get here?”
“Don’t question gifts from god, Eddie, just grab as many as you can fit in your pockets.”
Sophie smiled to herself. Not even 6am and she had gotten a compliment on her food. So far, so good.
oOo
The next morning, the taller one was back. He poured himself an obscene amount of coffee and grabbed two apple bran muffins. Sophie was surprised to hear him strike up a conversation with the older woman who worked the cash registers.
“Loretta! How are you?”
“Well hello there, young doctor. Haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?”
“I’m well. How have you been?”
“I’m just fine, hon. And the knee’s been a dream since you all fixed it. You sure you don’t want to stick with orthopedics?”
“Nah, it’s so much more fun to play with brains.”
She shuddered theatrically. “Well, I let you fix my knee, but you are not going to mess with my mind, child.”
Ed smiled. “Speaking of messing with people’s minds, Loretta, what’s with the surprisingly edible food?”
Loretta laughed and swatted at him. “Ingrate! We feed you all hours of the day and night and brew coffee by the gallon for you, and you have the gall to stand there and criticize the cooking?”
Unabashed, Ed grinned back at her. “Come on, Loretta, tell me what gives.”
“All right, all right. The new catering contract started this week. We replaced the old company with a new caterer. She’s young, but she seems pretty good.”
“Pretty good? She’s a goddess! These muffins are amazing. And yesterday, instead of the usual sad chicken noodle soup or scary chili, they sent up a tomato bisque. Tomato bisque, Loretta! I think I’m in love."
“I always did say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
“My stomach is definitely telling my heart we need to marry this woman.”
Loretta laughed again. “You’re charming and all, but why do you think anyone would marry your skinny ass? You practically live at this hospital. And if you did find the time to date someone, what would you talk about, hm? You spend all day up to your elbows in unconscious people’s guts.”
“Do not underestimate my charm, Loretta! And, okay, yeah, I’m here a lot. But so is she if there are fresh pastries this early in the morning. And we could talk about how much I love her cooking. Besides, surgeons have excellent hand skills,” Ed finished with an outrageous wink.
Loretta hooted and swatted him again. “The sass on you!”
Sophie went back in to the kitchen, smiling. If she started the meatballs now, she could do an Italian Wedding Soup for lunch.
oOo
Sophie rolled the cart with sandwich fixings and two large pots of soup up to the surgeon’s lounge herself. She wanted to see the look on Ed’s face when she showed up with wedding soup. She wanted to see if he’d get the joke, and she wanted to see what he would say when he found out the domestic goddess of his imaginings had hair buzzed shorter than his and was more comfortable wearing chains than rings.
What he’d said was, “Dinner?”
The sparkle in his eye as he had asked convinced her to accept the invitation, but she wasn’t about to make it easy for him.
“Sure. What are you cooking?”
Sophie saw the panic flashed across his face momentarily, but he recovered admirably.
“Whatever you’d like me to make.”
“Impress me,” she said, writing her name and number on a napkin.
oOo
“Hey, Soph.” He had the best smile. “I’m at a delicate stage in the kitchen, but make yourself at home. Living room’s that way; feel free to poke around my books and CDs and judge me.”
Sophie took in the eclectic mix of music and the guitar propped up in the corner, the stacks of medical texts on the table and the dusty collection of true crime novels in the bookshelf. The sound of swearing drew her into the kitchen.
The man had managed to burn stew, which was impressive, in it’s own way. She salvaged what she could of the meal, and the evening improved. Ed had no feel for seasoning and his pantry was pathetic. But he was fun to be around, and he liked good music and strong women, and the back of his neck was exquisite.