AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He lays a flat hand on the bar in front of me as if to silence my curiosity. “You’ll like it.”
The bartender brings over a dark bottle, gesturing to the label and Colton nods once in approval. A cork is popped, and an ounce of red liquid is poured into each glass.
Crap. Meg has been trying to teach me to drink fancy red wine, but the Midwest girl in me still prefers a sweet, white wine that’s less than ten dollars a bottle, which I’m guessing this isn’t.
I raise the glass to my lips, bracing myself for the bitter liquid when Colton raises a hand to stop me.
“Lainey, please tell me you weren’t going to drink it like that.”
I pull from his grasp a little and set my glass down on the bar with a clink. “Like what?” Is there a new way to drink wine that I haven’t heard of?
He gives a callus look before raising the glass. Not to his mouth, but to his nose.
“After you assess the appearance, give the glass a gentle swirl,” he mimics his words. “This lets oxygen properly blend with the wine. Now, and this part is important, you want to take a gentle breath—mouth open.” He does as he says, inhaling the wine through his mouth and I discreetly glance around to the patrons next to us, wondering if anyone is noticing.
“Now, take a small sip, and hold it in your mouth for a moment. Swirl or swish if you desire.” He does just that, cheeks puffing out to hold the liquid a beat before swallowing. He setsthe glass next to mine with a look of approval. “This one has a nice mouth feel to it.”
A laugh escapes me, and Colton snaps his head in my direction at about the same time I realize he is serious.
I fake a cough, tapping my chest a few times for effect. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were such a wine connoisseur.” Considering most of my wine is drank out of a coffee mug while I lay in the shower decompressing after a crummy shift, I shouldn’t be one to judge.
He reaches a hand over to graze a thumb down my back, and I can feel the movement rumble over my spine. “Kelly mentioned you were a cute little country bumpkin. If you pass the first date inspection, I’m sure I can teach you a thing or two about the finer things this city has to offer.”
Subtly, I wiggle my shoulders from side to side, his hand falling to rest on the back of my chair. “I might be from a small town, but I don’t know if I’d consider myself a country bumpkin.”
He leans back in his chair, a cocky grin crossing his face. He watches me, eyeing me from head to toe and I can feel myself slowly sinking into my chair. Familiar feelings creep to the surface—don’t make him mad, don’t cause a scene, just ignore it.I turn my attention to the wine, bringing the glass to my lips, huffing quickly before forcing a small sip down. I purse my lips together to hide the grimace.
“Where did you say you work again?” I ask, cutting through the tension with a change in topic.
“Schaefer and Schaefer Law Offices, junior associate.”
“Oh, that’s right. Kelly mentioned you recently finished law school. That’s impressive.” That part I don’t have to lie about. “I couldn’t even imagine how difficult law school would be.” Nursing school was hard in its own way, but I have worked as a caregiver since I was a teenager, so what we learned in nursingschool was somewhat familiar. I could apply everything I knew from years of work. I don’t know if it would be the same as a lawyer.
He shrugs a cocky shoulder. “It wasn’t bad. Worth the stress of studying when the payout is worth it. I recently read a Forbes article that said the average thirty-year-old doesn’t even have ten grand in savings. Pathetic. I’ll have triple that, and in a few years, I plan to open my law firm.”
He leans back against the slats of the chair, drumming his impeccably trimmed nails on the table as he stares me down. “Maybe I could hire you as my secretary,” he says with a patronizing smile.
I offer a tight, closed-lipped smile back as I try to keep my lady-like persona. “I have a career, but thanks. And I read that same article. I see the point they tried to make, but thirty isn’t what it used to be.” So many people put off going to college, or don’t go to college at all. People are married and divorced by the time they are thirty, or never married at all. People have children or go through career changes at different phases in life. A set amount of cash that you don’t get to use doesn’t define success anymore.
He breezes over my words, ignoring me as he pulls his phone out and swipes, reading the message crossing the screen. “I’ll pay you more than a nurse makes, trust me. You don’t want to be doing that forever, right? Dealing with poop and death all the time is gross. And depressing”
I almost miss his degrading comment, my time spent imagining he’s a giant bacon cheeseburger sitting in front of me instead. “Well, that’s sort of true. I have to be prepared to be puked on, or worse, each shift. But there is much more to it than that. I can’t imagine doing anything else.” My dad always said I was born a natural caregiver. At six years old, I found a wounded squirrel that had fallen out of a tree and couldn’t move its hindlegs. I walked into the living room, tears streaming down my face, clutching this furry grey ball to my chest. We managed to keep him calm, and I kept him supplied with dried corn and my mom’s macadamia nuts, feeding him water with a syringe until he was strong enough to drink on his own. Three days later, he ran out of the cage and across the lawn, barreling up a tree to his home and it was a rush I’ll never forget.
“I couldn’t do it, and I’m pretty sure I can handle a little more than you can.” His focus is back on mouth breathing his wine before he continues. “Old people gross me out.”
“Really? I love working with the elderly. They have such amazing stories. Many we see immigrated here at a young age. I had this—”
“They smell,” Colton interrupts, shaking his head firmly to end the discussion.
I open my mouth to respond, ready to fire off a million reasons why any patient I’ve ever had is a thousand times better than him when he swipes his phone and brings it to his ear.
“Tell me good news.” He holds up a finger to me and excuses himself, moving to the lobby.
Thank God.
I rustle through my purse to text Jenna and Meg, demanding one of them call in five minutes with an emergency that will get me out of this date when an unread message catches my eye.
Dr. Ryan: You look bored.
