Page 4 of Loving Callie
With a shrug of her shoulders at Callie’s response, Reagan settled herself next to her on the couch then offered her the plate of brownies.
Callie bit into the rich dark chocolate with a sigh of pleasure. “Oh, wow. This is heaven. Forget dating, how about I just marry this brownie.”
“You always want to marry my brownies,” Reagan replied with a laugh.
Reagan reached over to take a piece of brownie for herself. Mid bite, her eyes lit up with excitement as she exclaimed, “I have the best idea! What about internet dating? We could write your profile tonight; you know I do my best work under the influence of wine and chocolate!”
Callie raised her eyebrows at the suggestion. Was she desperate enough to look for a date online?
“I don’t know if I want to put myself out there for a bunch of strangers. What if one of them is a psycho.”
Reagan rolled her eyes as she replied, “Oh, come on, it’s not like that. There are so many ways to make it safe. We make sure your profile shows the best side of you, which – and I secretly hate you for this – is every side, you beautiful woman. We screen the guys carefully, and you always tell me where you’re going and who you’re meeting. Really, what do you have to lose? At the very least it gets you out of this apartment and meeting people who aren’t wearing scrubs or covered in blood.”
The girls spent the next hour laughing about what they would write in their internet dating profiles, drinking several glasses of wine and eating more brownies. After Reagan headed home in the Uber she had ordered, Callie headed into the kitchen to clean up. As she was washing dishes, she thought about what Reagan had said. Maybe internet dating wouldn’t be so bad. What did she have to lose, except maybe this never-ending loneliness?
* * *
Jake absentmindedly rubbed the bandage on his arm as he looked around at the newly renovated Lucky Strike Pub. He surveyed the carefully chosen vintage sports themed décor and long, live-edge bar lined with cushioned stools and smiled. He felt the familiar rush of pride in knowing that after eight years of dreaming and planning, one year of searching for the right location, and six months of renovations, he was finally close to realizing his dream of opening his very own brew pub.
Jake sent a prayer of thanks to his grandfather, Pop, who had left him enough money in his will to make his dream a reality. Pop had passed away just over two years ago and had always believed in Jake and in his dream, even when Jake didn’t himself.
He wished his beloved grandfather could be here to see the finished pub, which was named in his honor. Lucky Strike had been Pop’s call sign in the Air Force and a photo of Pop and a young Jake hung in the office behind the kitchen.
Jake had first come up with the proposal to open a brew pub in one of his business courses in college. What had initially been an assignment to write a business plan and a corresponding budget, had sparked an idea that motivated Jake to finish his business degree, and then take several courses in bartending and mixology. Over the years, he had been filled with doubt over whether he would ever see this day. It would have been impossible to get a bank to give him a business loan with no down payment and no collateral, so without the inheritance from Pop, Jake’s dream would never have come true.
Jake could still remember one of his last conversations with Pop, just days before the old man succumbed to the pneumonia that had attacked his frail body. Pop had told Jake that he would be inheriting some money when he died, which was bittersweet to hear. But it was Pop’s parting advice that kept invading Jake’s thoughts.
Grasping Jake’s hand with surprising strength given his weakened state, Pop looked him clear in the eye. “Jake, my boy. I know you’re capable of reaching all your dreams, and this plan of yours, this pub, is sure to be a success. But don’t lose sight of what’s truly important in life. Money and success are only worthwhile if you’ve got someone to enjoy it alongside you.”
A cough wracked his body, and the rattles in his breathing made Jake wince before he replied, “I know Pop, I’ll get married someday but I want to do this first. I need to get the pub open so I can support my future family.”
“Jacob, listen to me. You’ve got a drive that just won’t quit. You’ve always been hard working, so committed to whatever it was you were doing, whether it was sports, school, or chasing girls. Just promise me that you’ll take my money, do something great with it, and find a woman who will complete your life in a way no dream pub ever could.”
After he passed, Jake had done as Pop had predicted, proving just how well he knew his grandson. He had become so focused on his goal, and on wanting to make Pop proud, most other things in his life had been sacrificed including a social life. Still, he figured his priorities weren’t that bad; career first, then family. So, what if his current definition of family was limited to his parents and sister. There would be time to work on his own romantic future later. At the thought of the word romance, a vision of Doctor Scott from the hospital floated into his head.Now that was a woman he would shift his priorities for. Her honey blonde hair, those clear blue eyes, damn she was beautiful.
Before his mind could go down the path of dirty fantasies about the sexy doctor, he was interrupted by Ryan.
“Hey man, where do you want to store the good shit? You’ve got some top shelf booze in this box my friend.”
Jake turned to see Ryan come out of the storage room carrying a heavy crate of liquor bottles.
“Well, hmmm. Where do you think the ‘top shelf’ liquor should go Ry?” Jake asked drily.
Ryan just laughed, taking no offense to the sarcastic dig.
“Okay, smartass. Excuse me for wanting to let the boss have some say in how things are organized. I know that stick up your ass makes you obsessive about organization.”
“Hey, that stick got this ready to open a month earlier than we had projected. Don’t mock my organization skills. Besides, the bar is your kingdom. Set it up however you damn well please, I’m heading home, my arm is killing me.”
“Need a hot nurse to come and give you a sponge bath?”
More like a hot doctor,Jake thought to himself, as he rolled his eyes at Ryan. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Checking his watch as he walked back to his office, Jake was surprised to see that it was already midnight. Grabbing his jacket and keys, Jake headed out the back door, and climbed into his truck, eager to go home and try to get some sleep. Late nights might become his reality once he had a fully operational pub, but Jake had early morning meetings tomorrow with two craft breweries whose beers he hoped to offer on tap at the Lucky Strike.
As Jake drove towards his house in the Sherwood suburb of Portland, a home he had purchased for an absolute steal in a foreclosure auction, his phone rang. He answered it with a push of the hands-free button and Ryan’s voice filled the cab of his truck.
“Dude, you took off before I could tell you that some guys from the gym are headed out tonight. We’re just going to have a few drinks and maybe find some ladies. You in? I know you haven’t seen any action in a while, your dick will probably fall off if you don’t use it soon.”
