Hotshot Doc(22)

“PLEASE.”

“Bailey!” Erika calls my name from across the locker room. “Are you almost ready? We want to try to catch the end of happy hour.”

I shoot her a thumbs-up. “Josie, I gotta go.”

“Okay, fine, but you better talk to a guy! Any guy! The bartender! The bus boy—”

I hang up on her and grab for my makeup bag, telling Erika I just need a few minutes. I swipe on mascara, blend a little blush onto my cheeks, and dab on some Chapstick. I look remarkably more human when we walk into the bar across the street from New England Medical Center.

Smooth Tony’s is an institution around the hospital. It has stood the test of time, a small faded bungalow shoved in the middle of skyscrapers, and best of all, Smooth Tony himself still mans the bar every night. Erika and Megan are on a first-name basis with him, and he knows their preferred drinks without them having to order.

“What about you, blondie?” he asks me as he slides full cocktails their way.

I stare at the bottles of liquor lined up behind him, trying to remember the name of a drink…any drink.

“Uh, I think I need a second.”

“We’re going to go snag a booth before they’re all taken!” Erika says, and I’m left alone, searching in vain for a drink menu.

“Still thinking it over?” Tony asks after he helps another customer.

I frown. “What’d you make my friends? Maybe I’ll just have one of those.”

“Vodka sodas.”

I scrunch my nose. “Sounds boring.”

He laughs, and it’s deep and hearty. “Tell you what: why don’t I just make you something and if you don’t like it, we’ll try something else.”

I climb up onto a stool and shoot him an appreciative smile. “Yes. Thank you. That sounds perfect.”

So, that’s how I come to be sitting by myself at the bar, sampling a drink that actually tastes really good.

“What’d he end up making you?”

The question comes from the guy sitting to my right. I turn, and my eyebrows shoot up. This isn’t just a guy. This is a blond hunk with dimples and a winning smile. This is a guy worth a double take—a third take, even.

I smile and tilt my glass toward him. “Oh, uh…actually, I’m not sure.”

I look up to ask Tony, but he’s already moved on to another customer down at the other end of the bar.

The hunk laughs. “Looks like an Old Fashioned. Does it taste like it’s got bourbon in it?”

“Maybe.” I narrow my eyes. “But just for clarification, what does bourbon taste like?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “First time at a bar?”

“No.” My cheeks redden. “It’s my third time.”

He unleashes a heart-stopping grin and reaches his hand out toward me. “I’m Cooper.”

I’m pleased to find he has one of those manly, strong handshakes, one that would impress any discerning judge. “Bailey.”

“Bailey,” he repeats, testing it out before he nods as if coming to a conclusion. “You look like a Bailey.”

My brows rise curiously. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“It’s a sweet name.” He shrugs. “Cute. Cheerful.”

His eyes scan down me quickly, and I think I spot a hint of interest in his light blue eyes, which seem oddly familiar.

“Well thanks, Cooper. You have a good name too. I think my best friend growing up had a dog named Cooper.”

He laughs and turns back to the bar. “Was it a cute dog at least?”

He’s fishing and I can practically hear Josie screaming at me to flirt with him, to not let this moment slip through my fingers.

“Very cute. A little French bulldog,” I reveal with a big cheesy smile.

He groans playfully. “Oh, c’mon—couldn’t you have told me it was a massive Rottweiler? Maybe a German shepherd?”

I laugh. “Nope. He was a tiny thing.” I hold my hands up about half a foot apart, winking one eye closed like I’m trying to get the measurement just right. “About this big.”

“Ha ha.” He tips the neck of his beer toward me. “You know what? Maybe I got it wrong. Maybe you don’t fit your name after all.”

I can’t believe how quickly we hit it off. He’s funny and nice. I’m supposed to join my group over in the corner, but when I glance over my shoulder, Erika claps like she’s proud of me and Megan shouts, “Yes girl!”

Thankfully I don’t think Cooper hears her over the music. He does follow my gaze, though, and Erika and Megan make quick work of trying and failing to appear normal. Erika takes a big swig of her drink and then chokes. Megan has to clap her on the back.

“Do you need to go join your friends?”

I frown. What am I supposed to say? No, I’d rather talk to you? What kind of person ditches their friends for a cute guy? SOMEONE WHO HASN’T BEEN ON A DATE IN A MILLENIA.

I frown. “I don’t know. Probably. I don’t want to be a bad friend.”

He smiles and nods. “I get it. It’s cool. I’m actually waiting for someone myself.”

My heart shatters. “Oh, yeah? A girl?”

Wow. So subtle. So cool.

“No.” He looks down at his watch and shakes his head. “Just some prick with no regard for people’s time.”