“Here!” A woman who looks to be in her early forties with kind wrinkles around her deep brown eyes pushes herself to her feet.
I drift out of the woman’s way, and then the nurse closes the door behind them both. I take a deep breath, giving myself a mental shake, and head out to the parking lot. The pictures of all those babies playing in front of my eyes.
My mind is awhirl with thoughts, most of them depressing. More and more depressing with every step I take. I climb in my white sedan and pull the seatbelt on. With the click of the ignition, the car rumbles to life and I instantly turn the radio off, leaving just the hum of the car to accompany me before pulling out of the parking lot. The downtown Atlanta traffic is just as heavy as my thoughts.
As I sit in traffic on I-85, I stare at the Atlanta skyline. The sun is already setting against the brick buildings. The burned orange and yellow against the blue is peaceful. I sigh. The city was so fun when I was in college, and a great place to be when I was a recent graduate looking for my first serious job. No more retail and interning. No more clubs with my girlfriends and late nights that end up in horrific hangovers.
Now I have a steady, long-term career as a graphic designer in Buckhead and more and more often, I find myself driving to the suburbs. My cramped apartment in Candler Park would be left behind for the easy, laidback lifestyle I’ve found in Vinings, just outside the city’s perimeter if I could afford the move, and the time to actually move. The thought of moving is just one more stressor to deal with. I’m pretty certain the doctor just gave me plenty to stress over.
With my fingers tapping along the leather steering wheel, traffic finally moves at a reasonable pace.
Come to think of it, I haven’t even been at my apartment for more than a night’s sleep or a shower in ages. I haven’t been anywhere in the city, really. The nightlife doesn’t call to me anymore. It’s all work, work, work. I basically live at work, and that’s it.
Well that and my go to bar. Everyone deserves a drink after a long day.
At the moment, all I want is to get lost in a cosmo or martini to finish this day off. And I know just where I want to have that drink — at the hole-in-the-wall bar my coworker Ann showed me a couple of months ago. Mac's bar has a jukebox, plenty of places to sit, and unlike the other bars in Vinings, it serves liquor as well as beer.
Just thinking about it has me parched. Well, that and the bartender, Charlie.
Charlie.
The traffic finally frees up completely, and I’m quick to engage the turn signal and get off at the next exit to drive toward the bar. Maybe Charlie will be there. He usually is and when I get a drink or two in, he’s my confidant. That thought puts a smile on my face. It’s nice to have someone to talk to and as much as Ann is a good friend for gossip, that’s essentially all she does. Gossip.
I jump out of the car in the parking lot of Mac's Tavern, and look at my reflection in the side of the car. Brilliant blue eyes lined with kohl, long waves of copper-colored hair, and a cute upturned nose greet me. If I was nitpicky, I’d say that my eyes are a little too big, that my lips are too wide.
But I’m trying to get away from that kind of thinking. I tug my pale yellow skirt down and undo a button on my collar. There’s no one to impress inside Mac's, so it’s time to get comfy.
After fluffing my hair once, I lock my car and head inside. The place is an old brick building, plain and short. Stepping inside is like a breath of fresh air, when you crave a break from it all. There’s an ancient wooden bar along one side of the room, plenty of stools, chairs and tables to fill up the space with the exception of a small dance area that remains clear. It’s dimly lit, but that’s just fine by me because it aids in the pub atmosphere.
The sound of balls knocking together on the pool table in the back and the chatter of people follow me to the bar. I prefer it to a table. You never know who you’re going to meet at the bar or what stories you’ll hear. That’s mostly what Charlie and I talk about. The regulars, their drama and anything else new in this part of town.
It’s nice to unwind like that.
As I make my way to the bar, I realize that I'm smiling. There’s something about this place that does that to me. There are about a dozen people sprinkled throughout the bar, mostly enjoying after-work drinks.
I walk right over to the bar and sit down at the very end. It’s my seat. I look down the bar, but find the area behind it is empty. I wonder where the bartender is. There’s one special guy who could make today complete… if he’s working, that is.
Then a back door swings open, revealing him. Charlie, the owner of this bar.
He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with light brown hair cropped close to his scalp. He’s wearing a blue plaid shirt and jeans, but that doesn’t stop me from staring at his rippling muscles as he moves a stack of heavy-looking boxes behind the bar. Along with a jawline made for women to swoon over and twin brows that raise and lower with every emotion, he’s got a nose that’s just too perfect. It fits so well with his physique.
I bite my lip and blush. I know Charlie isn’t for me, really I do. I literally just found out that my time is running out to form a real connection with someone. It’s just… well, Charlie is hot.
The kind of hot that might keep a girl up at night, wondering just what’s under those jeans. Wondering if he’s as stacked as you hope he is…
If the other girls hanging around and looking at him wistfully are anything to go by, Charlie’s packing some serious heat. Then again, none of those girls have managed to nail him down.
And none of them were walking around, thinking of baby names in their spare time. Yep, I need to keep my hands to myself. My eyes, however…
A pleasant sigh leaves me as Charlie turns and sets the boxes down, giving me a good shot of his ass. It's perfect, nice and round. I swear, I never even noticed things like that before I met Charlie.
I chew my lip as I lean forward just a hair wondering if he does a lot of squats at the gym, or if his bubble butt is natural. Okay, maybe this is a little too much. Sitting back on the stool, I shake off my over active hormones and remind myself that he’s just a guy that is a part of this safe space I’ve made for myself to unwind.
He turns around just as I’m nodding to myself and catches me still looking at his rear. “Hey, stranger.”
Shit. I blush deep red, because I forgot the most stunning thing about Charlie: his eyes. They’re a kind of moss green color, something straight out of National Geographic.
“Hey,” I manage, the single word somehow coming out as two syllables, and I break off eye contact. I realize that my crush on Charlie is all it will ever be, a crush. I need to stop being such a weirdo.
I make eye contact again.
“Where have you been? It’s been a whole week since I’ve seen your face around here,” he teases.
“Oh. Just work,” I say with a shrug. “You know, the usual.”
“Yeah?” he says, grabbing a small worn hand towel and wiping off his hands. “That’s it, huh?”
“That’s it.”
His voice drops as he leans against the bar. “Nothing interesting to report?”
Somehow, he manages to make that sound filthy. God help me. There’s a charm about his raised brow and the way he looks expectantly at me. The fluttering in my chest needs to quit it.