Until Autumn - Sheridan Anne Page 0,17
familiarize themselves with. When a question is asked about procedures, she’ll be the first one raising her hand, and the other doctors will notice.
Pride surges through me at my ridiculous rationalizing. I don’t understand why I have this need to help her out. I want her to do well. Scratch that, for some unknown reason, I want her to soar, and I want to be the one to help her make that happen. I know I’ve only talked to her for less than two minutes, but I can already tell that she has an innocence about her that must be protected. She’s going to go far, but if she’s not careful, she’ll be crushed, and for that to happen … well, shit. That would destroy me.
Maybe Asher was onto something about this BOOM bullshit. Maybe it is real, or maybe she’s just the kind of woman who demands a man’s attention without even asking for it. Either way, I’m screwed. I’ve never had an issue with getting a girl out of my head, but this one is sticking around, and I’m dying to get to know her. I want to know what makes her tick because seeing that frustrated set of her jaw when she realized that she was about to spend the day reading procedures was the best thing I’ve ever seen. I’m not going to lie, listening to her graciously accept her consequences while she screamed and cursed me out in her head—that definitely comes in a close second.
The bartender places my drink down and I hand him a fifty. “Keep ‘em coming,” I tell him, scooping the beer off the bar and turning away. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not usually the creep who likes to go to bars alone, but sometimes a man just needs to get away from normal life. Had I called my friends, a few beers would have turned into a few too many, and with work scheduled for tomorrow, it’s not a risk I’m willing to take. I’ll save that shit for a day off. Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve had a big night with the boys. I think we’re overdue.
I make my way over to a vacant table where I can get a bit of peace and quiet, but a howling feminine laugh in the corner of the bar instantly grates on my nerves. I take a sip of my beer, focusing hard on tuning the obnoxious woman out.
Who comes to a bar like this to have a good time? That’s not what dive bars are for. Their sole purpose is to offer a quiet place where dickheads like me can come and ignore the rest of the world. Maybe it’s time to find a new dive bar. I’m sure there’s plenty around; it’s just a pain trying to find a good one.
I painfully get through my beer and consider leaving when the bartender places a new drink down on my table, and I remember that I told him to keep them coming. I groan at my own idiocy, but either way, I’m not going to say no to a good beer.
He takes my empty glass, and just as I relax back into my seat, the same obnoxious woman decides to speak up again. “You should have seen how arrogant this asshole was,” she says, loud enough for the whole bar to follow along with her story. “He was a complete asshole, but that’s got nothing on the size of his ego. Though, I guess when people are always kissing your ass and claiming that you’re the best, that’s bound to happen. Besides, it’s not like I wasn’t warned. Everyone in the industry knows about his douchey tendencies. I was just stupid enough to think that they wouldn’t come out to play.”
I grin to myself. Finally, this woman says something that I can relate to. I’ve been labeled the best obstetrician in the state for the past three years, and I’m not going to lie, it does wonders for my ego, but along with it comes a pressure that no one will ever understand. When you have a reputation to uphold and a title to stand by, there is absolutely no room for errors, not even the small human ones that everyone else seems to get away with.
The guy sitting with the woman laughs. “Give the guy a break. I’m sure he was just doing his job. Besides, have you met yourself? You can be an egotistical, arrogant cow