Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“Gather round! Gather round! Let these fair maidens pass,” he says, giving us an exaggerated wink.
“Damn John Adams is looking to get laid,” Lindsey whispers as we walk by.
I’m still laughing as we enter the bar, immediately hit by the greasy smell of rich pub food. I’m glad we picked this spot. The old-world vibe is comforting in a city that has too many strobe-lit, glossy, free cover before 7:00 PM clubs popping up. This place is small and dimly lit by lanterns hanging down from thick wood beams. Speckled plaster walls give way to dark wooden booths and tables. People are crowded in, gathered close so they can hear each other speak over the low rumble of noise.
Lindsey grins over at me and I try to shake the last vestiges of tension from my shoulders. This is meant to be a fun night out. It’s why I’m wearing my best jeans and a borrowed top from Lindsey that fits like a glove. No scrubs allowed, per Lindsey’s orders. So here we are, about to put ourselves out there and meet a whole buffet of men. Tie on your bib and grab your fork—it’s Saturday night in Boston.
At the bar, Lindsey orders us spicy margaritas on the rocks with extra limes. I scan the room, aware of the fact that we’re extremely close to the hospital. There could be some familiar faces—or a familiar face, let’s get real—and of course, we immediately spot some guys we know, a group of doctors. Among them is Daniel, the guy Noah tried to set me up with before he left town, the guy who apparently is such a gentleman he decided to get Noah’s approval to ask me out before he got mine. How perfectly respectful.
It’s been a few months since our paths have crossed, and he’s cuter than I remembered. His blond hair is still buzzed short and his T-shirt is tight across his chest. He looks like the type of guy you’d see rolling out from underneath a car with oil on his hands. I know he’s ex-military, and that’s why he loves emergency medicine. He’s used to the rush of adrenaline, the triage of trauma. Our eyes lock across the pub just as he brings his beer to his lips, and I offer a little wave.
He halts mid-sip and holds up his beer in greeting. Then he stands up and says something to his friends before weaving through tables to get to us.
“Natalie. Lindsey. Hey, how’s it going?”
He gives me a big hug, obviously happy to see me here. After a few weeks of suffering through battle with Connor, it feels jarring to have a man look at me with such uncomplicated, open pleasure. He’s pleased to see me. There’s no hidden agenda in his gaze, no dirty memories to contend with, no eggshells we have to carefully tiptoe across. It’s almost unnervingly easy.
I smile. “Good. Yeah. Just getting out for a drink after a long week.”
He nods empathetically. “I get it.” Then he glances behind us. “Are you guys meeting anyone else?”
“Nope. Just us,” Lindsey says with a big smile.
It’s decided then that we’ll just join up with his group. There are four of them stuffed into a corner booth. They stand as we approach and introductions are made. Miguel and Joel are doctors at the hospital and I’ve met them a few times thanks to Noah, but Kieran is new and Lindsey takes immediate interest in him. He’s tall with light brown skin, black glasses, and an artistic tattoo creeping out of the T-shirt sleeve on his right arm. He smiles her way and it’s not all that surprising that when spots are claimed at the table, she manages to maneuver herself right beside him. Oh, lookie there. Meanwhile, I get stuck sandwiched in the dead center of the booth, in the corner. It’s the absolute worst spot to be in. If I have to go to the bathroom—and believe me, I will—half the group will have to slide out to let me pass. I squeeze my thighs together just thinking about it.
At least Daniel is sitting next to me. He’s nice and keeps the conversation going while I sip my drink. Lindsey asks Kieran what he does, and she acts wildly amazed by the world of computer programming.
He asks her if she’s interested in coding.
“Oh yeah. Lindsey’s a huge computer geek,” I say, hiding my smile behind my glass.
Her cheeks redden. No doubt she’s remembering the time we went into Apple and waited for two hours to speak to a member of their support staff only to have them tell us her computer wasn’t broken, it just needed to be charged.
“Really?” He turns more in her direction. “No way.”
She nods enthusiastically while reaching for her drink, grasping it desperately as she takes a long sip. She’s saved from having to expand on her oh-so-deep well of computer knowledge when Miguel asks us if we’ve had issues with the new filing system they’ve implemented at the hospital. We get maybe five good minutes of complaining in before Kieran, the odd man out at a table filled with physicians, demands that we put a moratorium on medical talk. No complaining about electronic charting systems or long hours or stinky call rooms.