She dimmed visibly and sat back. The change was so abrupt, he wished he could retract the question.
“Pediatrics.”
One-word answer; it was plain on her face that there was more to that story. Something—maybe everything—had hit her hard there. He could only imagine the things she’d seen. Things that still haunted her. He knew the feeling and took her nonverbal cue to mind his own business.
“It’s nice to meet someone who likes their job,” he said, swiping his napkin over a drop of dip on the lacquered table. “So many people dread Mondays. Me, I’ve been on vacation a week and, although I needed the break, I’m kind of itching to get back out there.”
Courtney took a sip of her merlot, then nodded. “I totally agree. Life’s too short to waste doing something you hate.”
She was right there. Life was too fucking short. Too short to work at a job you hated, too short to miss out on opportunities or have regrets. He liked this woman. They’d been hanging out for a couple hours now, and the conversation had moved along at a steady, comfortable clip. No weird revelations, no awkward pauses. They both had high-pressure jobs and enjoyed physical activity as an outlet for stress. She was pretty, smart, caring…hell, on paper, they were a perfect match.
His thoughts turned to Cat as they had a dozen times over the past hour. Too bad her formula wasn’t as foolproof as she thought. He and Courtney may have all the boxes ticked off in the compatibility department, but he felt no chemistry with her at all. Zilch. And if he was any kind of judge, he’d say she felt the same way. Maybe he’d set the stage for that during their IM chat when he’d explained that he wasn’t in the market for a girlfriend. That he was re-acclimating himself to the area and was just looking for someone to hang out with, go to dinner, catch a movie or a concert sometime. She was happy to hear it since she’d gotten out of a difficult relationship and was looking for companionship more than love herself. He was satisfied with his choice, felt he’d made a friend, and it sure as hell beat sitting at home wondering whether Cat was going to get some balls and call him. Not to mention, when she found out which woman he’d picked to go out with, she was not going to like it.
The door swung open, sending an icy draft over their table, and Courtney shivered.
“Ooh, nice boots,” she whispered, gaze glued to the doorway.
Shane didn’t have to wait long to see the objects of her admiration because two women walked by a few seconds later, one sporting fitted tan boots with a wicked-looking heel.
“Those?”
“Yeah. Want,” she whimpered in a funny little voice.
He laughed and took another look at the boots that were eating up space between them and the bar. They were pretty nice. If he was being honest, the whole package was pretty nice. Curvy, denim-encased legs led to a nicely rounded bottom that was framed by a tan, fitted leather jacket.
He took a harder look at the ass.
Jesus. It was Cat.
The two women reached the bar fifteen yards away and selected their seats, which happened to face his table.
“Holy shit.”
“What’s the matter?” Courtney asked, concern furrowing her brow.
“Nothing, ah…”
Lacey waved enthusiastically from her stool, and Cat gave a crooked grin and a finger wiggle. Maybe he was reading too much into it, but her smile seemed stiff and a little sad.
He waved back, brain on overdrive trying to make sense of this development. It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? They all loved Sully’s, so it wasn’t impossible. Still, neither Lacey nor Cat had looked surprised to see him, and they hadn’t stopped at the table to say hi, which was weird. And he had told Galen what was going on with Cat and where he would be tonight with the hope it would filter to her eventually, but he hadn’t expected this. What did she think she’d accomplish by showing up?
Either way, here she was, and he wasn’t complaining. It had to mean something.
“Who’s that?” Courtney asked.
“Oddly enough, that’s the woman I was telling you about earlier.”
To her credit, Courtney didn’t whip her head back around to get another look. Instead, she went for a stealthy, reach-for-the-purse maneuver that allowed her to look over her shoulder without it seeming obvious. If Cat’s whole vapid-turtle theory hadn’t been blown out of the water in the first half hour of conversation, it sure was now. This chick was quick.
Cat had taken off her jacket, and he lost track of his thoughts for a moment. She wore a cropped sweater in dark blue that skimmed over her breasts like a lover before ending abruptly right above her navel.