3
Ocea
Iduck into the bar to avoid the downpour outside. My heart thuds against my chest after the brisk walk from the hospital a block away. I should have taken my car, but walking clears my head. I’ll go back for my wreck when I’m positively buzzing.
The bell above the door chimes and the warm, smoky atmosphere is a welcome reprieve from the chill outside. Shrugging out of my damp jacket, I hang it up on an empty hook, shake my wet curls, and make my way over to the counter. The smell of meat on the grill makes my stomach rumble.
Darren chats to a customer at the end of the bar but looks up when I take my seat. His smile is infectious. “Starfish!” he shouts a greeting and walks over, grabbing a bottle of my favorite beer. “It’s raining the devil and pitchforks out there.” He leans over the bar, kissing my cheek. That nickname is by far the worst I have ever had, but it’s Darren, so I tolerate it.
“Tell me about it. I powerwalked the entire way here and still ended up soaked.” My hair hangs in streaks around my face, a few droplets of cold water dripping onto my shirt. The heating causes goosebumps to spread across my skin. I take a swig from my beer and close my eyes for a second. “Thanks, Dee.” I offer him a friendly grin.
“You could have driven here and parked out back.”
“But then I wouldn’t have this lost, forlorn look that gets me special treatment.” I wink.
DK’s is a hole-in-the-wall bar I’ve frequented since I started working at Portland General Hospital a year ago when I moved here. I was lucky to land a job so quickly, but emergency nurses were in short supply here. The bar is a warm escape from the dull and dreary weather outside and the eerie quiet of my house. After a twelve-hour shift, it is just what I need. No more bedpans and blood, just buy-one, get-one-free beer hour.
The chatter and laughter of the other customers and the banter between Dee and I add to this place's cozy appeal. I eat here every day. They have the best grub, from steaks to wings, garden burgers, and warm pot pies. Then there’s the beer, imported and on tap. I’ll have one tonight, two if I’m feeling adventurous. Perks, I suppose, of the single life. I can get flat-out drunk on the night before my three days off where I’ll do nothing but mope around. I feel that unsettling ache in the pit of my stomach whenever I think about it, so I push those feelings aside, concentrating on the television. The news is on; it’s either that or football.
“The usual?’ Dee asks.
“The same.” I hate being so predictable, but it’s a trait I cannot shake.
I know almost every patron here, the furniture, as I like to think of them. People who, like me, have nothing better to do. The couple who drinks two bottles of wine every night and laughs their way out of the bar with rosy cheeks and high spirits. The guys from the hospital finance department, taking shots and catching up on football.
A man sitting in a booth in the far corner of the bar catches my eye. I’ve never seen him before, but a sexy thing like that is hard to miss. As if he senses my eyes on him, his gaze meets mine across the room. The way he stares at me makes me feel slightly flushed. He doesn’t avert his eyes the way most people do. Confidence is such a turn on. He smirks, and goosebumps spread across my skin. When was the last time a guy smiled at me or tried to pick me up? When last did I try? I feel like a mother hen these days. I turn away and then sneak a look back at him. He takes a sip from the glass in his hands. Broad shoulders, a rugged beard, dark hair cropped short—quite a combination. My eyes roam over his features, and I turn to avoid gawking any further.
“Gorgeous, isn’t he?”
“What?” I swivel in my seat, nearly slipping off. Darren just laughs and shakes his head.
“You know him?” I ask. “And don’t let Kiran hear you say that.”
“I may be taken, but I have eyes.” He laughs. “And to answer your question, I don’t. You should know his other half is in the restroom, though.”
“Just my luck.” I roll my eyes, turning back just as a woman equally gorgeous as the guy I was checking out takes a seat next to him in the booth. His attention immediately shifts.
“Why am I not that lucky?” I complain.
“Because you, darling, have not been out for months.” He states the obvious.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. “Excuse me,” I tell Darren. I pick up the device and sigh loudly. “Work,” I groan.
Darren shrugs a sympathetic expression on his face and goes off to help another customer.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Ocea, thank god. Are you still at the bar?”
I roll my eyes. How on earth does everyone know my whereabouts all the time?
“What is it now?” I grumble.
“Kelly just called in sick.” There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “Wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t a crisis.”Yeah, you would.
“I drank a beer, a whole pint,” I tell Tamara, the nurse in charge, who also happens to be a good friend of mine.
“Come on. You’re more sober than half the nurses here after a bottle of tequila.” I squeeze my eyes shut. The problem with being unattached is that people just assume you have no life. That you’re always going to drop whatever unimportant thing you’re doing and run to the rescue. “I’ll owe you one.” She coerces.
