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“Thank you?” She adjusted the bag over her shoulder so that she could accept the gift he insisted she take.

“Go on.” He encouraged her to take a sip, so she dutifully raised the cup to her lips, blew through the hole in the lid, then gingerly took a drink, hoping she wouldn’t scald her tongue. She almost wished she had after getting a taste. “Better than ours, right?”

Well…at least it didn’t have a grainy texture. But it was bitter as a mouthful of alum since he hadn’t added any sugar or cream the way she liked it.

“Much better,” she lied, conveying appreciation for the gesture if not the actual gift. She lifted the cup in a toast, anxious to get back to the hallway and away from the feeling of being cornered. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” But Tate deftly stepped to the side, blocking her exit. His tone and expression showed a desire to prolong the conversation, but she really just wanted to leave. “You need to quit covering other shifts and volunteer centers and take some time off to take care of yourself. Or let somebody do it for you.” She grimaced behind her cup. He wanted to take care of her? “Give yourself time to see people. Have fun.”

“I like to stay busy.”

He frowned. “Do you need the extra money?”

“What? No.” Even if she were in financial trouble, he wasn’t someone she’d confide in.

“If anything’s wrong, I’d like to help.” He reached toward her, and she instinctively retreated, her back bumping the shelves, rattling the items behind her. His hand dropped back to his side a beat too late.

“Oh. Well.” Polly hugged the bag of supplies to her chest and saluted him again with the coffee. “Thank you. But I’m good. This was very nice of you.”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his blue scrubs and grinned. “Polly Cooper, do I make you nervous?”

“No,” she answered too quickly to sound convincing. She nodded toward the door, needing to escape before her discomfort became obvious. The curse of being shy was that she didn’t always know how to respond when she was in an uncomfortable situation—either she froze up, or she babbled herself into a corner. “I’ve got everything I need. I’ll see you back on the floor.”

He shifted again when she moved to step around him, stretching his arm over her shoulder to brace it against the shelves behind her. He was close enough that she could smell his cologne, which might not have been a bad thing if it didn’t clash with scents of medicines and antiseptics that surrounded them all day.

“I think I do make you nervous,” Tate said. “That means there’s tension here. Sexual tension.” His tone was casual, but something about the way he stood there—blocking the only exit and leaning into her personal space—made Polly’s breath catch.

“What?” She straightened, trying to keep some space between them, as she eyed the closed door behind him. “Aren’t we getting slammed out there? They probably can’t afford to have both of us off the floor at the same time.”

“They’ll manage for a few minutes. Saw you were taking a break. I’d already made the run to the cafeteria and was keeping your cup warm in the microwave.” He leaned closer. “I thought we could talk.”

Again. In the supply closet? “About what?”

“About us.”

“Us?”

His cheeks dusted with pink as he laughed, looking almost embarrassed by the admission. “Yeah, silly. I’ve been trying to ask you out. Trying to get to know you better. But you keep ducking out on me, never giving me a chance. I usually have better luck with women. Makes a guy a little paranoid.”

“Sorry.”

“Nah. It’s good that you’re making me work for it. Some girls are so easy to charm, they’re boring.” He chuckled, as though if he just kept pressing her, she’d find him charming, too. He pulled his hand from the shelf behind her to drag his finger across her jawline and tap the end of her nose. She couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose at the unfamiliar contact. “But not you. I thought we could do dinner and a movie this weekend. I checked the schedule, and I know you’re not working. Unless you’re covering for someone else again, that is.”

“Oh.” He wanted to ask her out? Maybe Tate hadn’t meant to spook her or make her feel trapped. Maybe she’d misread his social cues, and he was just as awkward at this dating stuff as she was.

“I know you’re quiet and need time to warm up to people,” he hurried to add. “And I’m guessing you don’t have a lot of experience with men, so you didn’t recognize that I’ve been flirting with you. But you know me. We’ve been working together almost six months now. I didn’t think you were the type to play hard to get.”

The accusation shocked her. “I’m not playing hard to get.”

“Then when are you going to give a guy a break?”

Polly felt like she was a step behind in the conversation. Tate wanted to date her?

“You’ve been flirting with me?”

He laughed out loud again. But she didn’t feel like laughing along.

“Hell, you don’t have any experience, do you?” He trailed his fingers across her shoulder and down to her elbow, where she clutched the bag of supplies—seemingly not noticing or not caring that she flinched. “Damn. I’ve never been with a virgin before.”