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Prescription for Romance

By June Foster

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Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up. James 4:10


Chapter One


Scott rounded the corner to Main and banged the dashboard of his Frontier King Cab with a clenched fist. Why me?
Lots of guys had the problem and besides, he was a weight lifter with a healthy body. He sighed. Somehow that didn't console him.
He hunkered down over the steering wheel and sniffed. The same old smell. Though he'd already lathered up and rinsed in the gym's shower, an odor assaulted him. His heart dropped into his stomach.
For months now, he'd showered twice a day and used the strong antiperspirant he'd bought at Wal-Mart, but he still smelled a stench at times. Though he didn't want to admit he had a problem, he was a candidate for the stronger deodorant. He pulled the printed sheet out of his jean's pocket and tossed it on the passenger seat. The doc said to read it, and he had. At least twenty times and could probably repeat it by memory.
He checked the clock in his truck. Six fifteen. Good, Bartell's would still be open.
After two blocks, he parked in front of the store and slammed the door on his vehicle, tugging his pullover down against the cool October air.
Scott drew in a deep breath to steady his nerves. Why was this so embarrassing? He rolled his eyes.
The door dinged when he pushed through. On the first shelf to the left, the deodorant aisle mocked him. Those over-the-counter products had failed. He gulped, made his way to the back of the store, and prayed the pharmacist was a guy. He'd feel a lot more at ease.
"Yes, sir. May I help you?" A young woman not much older than his little brother stood behind the counter. Her name tag read Cari Byers, Pharmacy Tech.
He cleared his throat and croaked. "I have a prescription. Scott Townsend."
"Sir?" She leaned closer.
He took a breath and tried again. "Scott Townsend. A prescription."
"Yes, sir. Just one moment." The petite red head perused the computer for what felt like two hours. "It's ready." Behind her, three bins perched on a low counter. She shuffled through the one labeled S through Z and pulled out a clear plastic envelope. "Here you go. This is a new prescription, so I'll get the pharmacist to discuss it with you."
Scott's heart pounded harder. "No." He didn't mean to shout. He lowered his voice. "No, that's okay. The doctor already explained it."
"Oh, she's right here." The tech pointed to the tall, dark-haired woman approaching from the back.
"Yes, Cari?" She strolled to the counter and smiled at Scott.
His mind stalled, and he closed his eyes. Who was this woman? He opened them again and snagged a look at her name tag. Stephanie McCoy, RPH.
Stephanie's face brightened. "Scott. Scott Townsend. Haven't seen you since Ella and Zack's wedding."
As if he needed more, sweat lined his back and chest under his long sleeve jersey. Stephanie McCoy. He'd chatted with her at the reception. Steeling his nerves, he stood a little taller but barely looked at her eye to eye. "Oh, yeah. Last July." At the wedding he wished had never happened. In fact, if he hadn't tried to be a nice guy, Ella Harris might've been dating him instead of marrying Zack Lawrence.
Stephanie reached into the plastic packet.
If Scott could, he'd magically transform the prescription into an antibiotic or blood pressure medicine. He tensed his shoulder muscles, waiting for her to discover the contents of the envelope.
Finally, she pulled out a box that said "Max Dry" on the front. "Here we go. The prescription contains 12% aluminum chloride and should be applied at night when sweating is at a minimum." She glanced up at him.
Did he perceive a look of pity? If he could shrink to a dot, he would.
"Make sure you use the product after a shower when you're sweat free. Do you have any questions?"
"No." The sooner he was out of here, the better.
She handed the box to the pharmacy tech. "Can you ring him up, please?"
After completing the transaction, he grabbed the bag and scurried toward the front door. He'd rather remain anonymous, but what were the chances in a small town like Oak Mountain?

*****

Stephanie McCoy fingered her nametag identifying her as a pharmacist. She loved her profession, but times like this she could skip. The poor guy. He looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. She would've assured him many people needed prescription strength antiperspirants, but he'd walked away too quickly.
Nearing the door, shoulder muscles bulging under his sweater, Scott stopped at the toothpaste aisle.
Stephanie glanced at her watch. Five minutes until she was off. Maybe she still had time to put him at ease. Besides, he reminded her of a sweet guy in pharmaceutical school who didn't know how gorgeous he was, and she'd always wanted to date him. "Be right back to close up, Cari."
"Sure." The tech gave her a bright smile that matched her auburn curls and thumbed through a pile of insurance forms.
Near the register, Scott picked up a box of toothpaste, paid, and turned toward the exit.
Now was her chance. Stephanie marched to the front and stopped behind him. "Hey Scott."
He jumped and turned around, his brown eyes wide.
"I'm sorry." She reached for his shoulder and ran her fingers along his rock-solid arms, not noticing any offensive smell. "I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to assure you, we sell lots of that product at Bartell's and if you have any more questions, I'd be happy to answer them."
Scott's gaze wandered from her face down her emerald green sweater to her low-heeled leather boots. "No, I'm good." A smile finally emerged, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "You're a friend of Ella's and Zack's?"
Not of Ella, but she'd hoped to be more than friends with Zack. Now it was too late. "Yeah. I knew both in high school. We were in the same class."
Scott shifted his package from one hand to the other. "You probably don't remember me, but I was a couple of years behind you."
Vague memories of a bashful boy on the wrestling team replayed in her mind. "Oh, yeah. You were that funny guy who always made jokes and never got into trouble. What did you do after high school?"
Some of the tension slid from his face with his grin. "I went to college in Birmingham and studied secondary education." He moved aside as a customer walked out the door. "Now I'm in the same place—Oak Mountain High. Except these days I'm a history teacher. The principal is trying to get me to teach weightlifting, too."
"That's great."
Scott took a few steps back. "Nice talking to you. Gotta go. Still have some quizzes that need grading." He studied his tennis shoes a moment. "Let's get together soon. To talk about the old days." A boyish grin spread across his face.
Scott fascinated her. Sure, his well-built body and light brown eyes attracted her, but it was more. He didn't portray that haughty air so many guys had, like she was supposed to worship at the altar of his manhood. Scott obviously wasn't stuck on himself.
Too, only last summer Zack Lawrence had rejected her, turning her down flat when she'd offered to be a friend—and more. Her pride still stung, and the history teacher would be an excellent substitute to rebuild her confidence. She pulled her card from the zip pocket of her skinny jeans. "Here's my number. I'm thinking about driving to the mountains one weekend soon to snap some pictures of the gorgeous fall leaves if you want to go along. I'm an amateur photographer."
Scott stuck her card in his jeans pocket and grinned. "How about this Saturday?"

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