Jessa James - Dr. Hottie

She blushed.

“I think you’ve picked the wrong American party leader,” she said.

“Well. It might also help if we get tanked.”

“Agreed. Do you like tequila?”

His eyebrows shot up, and even she was surprised at her own forwardness. But it was too late now. She grabbed his arm and dragged him to the bar. As soon as she stood up, the beer she’d sucked down shot to its full power. She was tipsy and emboldened.

“Four shots of Cuervo,” she said to the bartender, a girl she recognized from high school. The bartender gave her the staple nod of the town, the one that said, “I got you, because we’re in this thing together.”

“I’ll have the same,” he called. Addy laughed.

She chuckled. There was no way she could drink all that and still be standing, but she would go along with it. If only to keep Jack looking at her like that…

“Cheers,” she said. “But to what?”

“Well first, you have to make eye contact when you cheers,” he said. “Otherwise it’s bad luck. And second, let’s cheers to a different reason each time.”

“You go first,” she said.

“Cheers,” he said as he clinked her glass and held her gaze. “To American holidays. To your country’s unabashed love of blowing things up, and pies made with Crisco.”

“Nobody uses Crisco anymore,” she said.

“Okay, then. Cheers because… honestly it’s this, or I’ll have to let Philip try to set me up all night.”

She felt a small burn of jealousy go down with the yellow liquid.

“Cheers because I’m so fucking awkward,” she said as she raised her glass.

“Hear, hear,” he said. He made it look like it was Sprite he was shooting back. “Cheers because I signed a contract to be in this town for at least a year. God help me.”

“Hey!” she said. “It’s not so bad.”

The second shot somehow went down even coarser than the first, and she pulled a face as she bit into the lime to cut the burn. From over Jack’s shoulders, she caught sight of Jeremy and Shannon slow dancing as Paradise City began its first strums.

“Can’t handle it?” he asked with a smile. “I thought pretty American girls could drink.”

She blushed. He called me pretty.

“Yeah, well, I don’t normally drink tequila.”

“You ordered it.”

“I ordered four.”

“I know, so did I.”

She gave him a look, and he grinned. She was nearly knocked down by that smile, so she raised another shot glass.

“Right. Okay, then. Number three. You ready?”

“Are you?” he asked.

“Cheers because my ex is here and it looks better to be talking to you than to be by myself.”

“Wow, thanks,” he said. “But I’ll take it.”

He downed the shot easily. “Why is your ex an ex?”

A laugh bubbled up from her chest.

“Uhhh… it’s a long story. Basically he works all the time, and says he doesn’t have time for a needy girlfriend. Except now he’s with Shannon , I see him everywhere, all the time. Doing all the things he told me he didn’t have the time to do. So…”

She ran her finger around the rim of one of the empty shot glasses, feeling an acute shot of jealousy burn through her. Or is that just the tequila?

“My turn,” he said. “Cheers because what else do I have to do other than to help a girl get back at her ex.”

“I’m not trying to get back at him,” she said, too quickly. The taste of the tequila on her tongue made her cut her defenses short.

“Cheers because tequila makes everything better,” she said.

It was true. As she took another shot, she felt the warm glow spread outward from her chest.

“How right you are,” Jack said. “You’re on a roll. Your turn again.”

“Cheers because … it’s better to be drinking than to be running everyone else’s lives,” she said.

He gave her a curious look. “Are you the mayor or something?”

“Hardly,” she said with a laugh. “I work at a restaurant. I’m like the manager, but without the title or the pay.”

“Ah,” he said. “So you’re the queen of your hive, then.”

Briefly she wondered what he meant by that, but the tequila had started to turn her brain to mush. They slammed their glasses down on the table in unison.

“So you’re a doctor. Do you love it?”

He ducked his head. “I do. I’m in emergency medicine, and there is nothing like the rush of adrenaline that accompanies helping someone who’s experienced a trauma.”

“So you do it because you’re an adrenaline junkie?”

He grinned. “Partly. The other part is because my father was a doctor, and his father before him, and his father before him… so it was sort of expected that I would follow in their footsteps.”

“Gotcha. You’re fulfilling familial obligations.”

“That may have got me into med school, but I had to pass the classes and work the crazy thirty hour shifts.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t earn the right to call yourself a doctor.”

He nodded, raising another shot glass.

“Shot number four,” he said. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’m gonna be.”

“Cheers because … because … shit, I don’t know.” They both broke into laughter. The tequila had worked its magic. “How about we switch back to beer?”

“Oh, wow. Did I really outdrink an Australian?” she asked.

“I’m impressed. I figured you’d think I was British.”

“Why?” she asked. She felt his arm at her waist as he directed her back to the table.

“Most beautiful girls hope I’m British,” he said with a shrug. “Something about that accent.”

Omigod, he called me beautiful. Either I’m really drunk, or he’s interested in me.

“I don’t like Hugh Grant,” she said as she slid onto the barstool.

“Good to know,” he said with a laugh. “So, tell me your sob story.”

“What?”

“It’s the Fourth of July and you’re at a table with a veritable stranger. You have to have a sob story. Why are you here?”

“At Dusty’s?”

“In this town.”

“Oh. I was born here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey!”

“I’m sorry I said it like that! I just arrived, I shouldn’t make any judgment calls.”

“It’s okay,” she said. She realized their heads were inches apart, but it was the only way to have a conversation with the music and the crowd. Somehow, it felt like they were the only two in the room. “Actually, I moved to Santa Fe for college as soon as I could. I couldn’t wait to get out of this town.”

“Why’d you come back?”

“I found out my mom was dead.”

“Wait, what?” She saw the shock swim out of the buzz in his eyes.

“Sorry, I’m not good at this,” she said. “I mean … she’d been sick a long time. Breast cancer. But I … I didn’t make it back in time.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Truly.”

“Thank you.”

“I know how it feels—and I’m not just saying that. My dad died when I was thirteen. I was there, but I wasn’t. You know? I was a kid.”

“Let’s cheers to that,” she said, and they tipped their beers toward one another. “But you still didn’t tell me why you’re here. I mean really here.”

He shrugged. “I was in Chicago, doing my residency. I didn’t want to go back to Melbourne, so I came here.”

“Quite the trip from Australia to Chicago to Tahoe City.”

“Maybe. So you told me why you came back. You never told me why you stayed.”

She sighed. “I came back … you know, to take care of everything. And then I got stuck. There’s no other way to put it. I was taking care of my dad, my little sister, the whole ‘estate’ or whatever. Then … I started dating this guy.”