He sat next to her, and she scooted several inches in the other direction, though there wasn’t far to go, her hands clutching the glass of pale ale. “And, besides, if the age limit is thirty, I’d be too old, too.”
“You’re not over thirty, are you?” He sat with a hand on each knee, back to looking stiff and out of his element.
“Thirty-two last January.” She didn’t care if he knew her age—she wasn’t looking for his approval.
“I would have pegged you around twenty-six or-seven.”
Well, then. She sat a little straighter. Yes, he was being nice, she knew it, but nevertheless he’d scored a few plus points over the unintentional compliment. His attempt to be kind was a far cry from the standoffish guy she’d met the other day.
“Now I know you’ve had a couple of pints.” She felt the blush from his compliment as deeply as when she’d been twelve and regularly embarrassed. How silly was that?
He stopped just before he finished off his dark brew. “From these thirty-nine-year-old eyes, you look twenty-six. Trust me.”
“How old do I look?” Vincent asked, looking a little desperate to get into the game.
“Vinnie, I’m thinking twenty-four.”
Vincent giggled, actually giggled. “Oh, Doctor, you’re so funny, I’m thirty. And could you call me Vincent, please?”
“Apologies, Vincent. Then we’re all over the hill. Good. I don’t relate to the younger generation, anyway. All the face piercings and tattoos, fake boobs.”
Kasey took another swallow of beer to help the dry patch in her throat as she thought about the four silver hoops in various sizes in both of her ears, the silver ball in her left tragus, the small rose tattoo hidden on her right hip, and the hummingbird on her left shoulder. Her breasts were her own, though. She sat a little straighter, thinking about it. “But you’re going to be a plastic surgeon, so won’t you be augmenting a lot of those ‘boobs’?”
“I’m depending on it. Lots of cash in breast augmentation. And lipo. Ah, and we can’t forget Brazilian butt lifts. Big bucks there, too.”
He seemed too caught up with the money side of the job, and it made her subtract some of those points she’d just awarded him. Her thoughts must have shown on her face.
“There’s nothing wrong with helping people look the way they want,” Vincent said, practically shushing her as if she’d been rude to their guest.
“Within reason.” For some crazy reason—maybe the second half of the pale ale—she wasn’t ready to back down. “You wouldn’t give anyone cat eyes if they asked, would you? Or a doll’s nose, or pull someone’s face so tight they looked like they’d just hit G-force?”
Surprising her, Jared gave a good-hearted laugh—a deep, really nice-sounding laugh, which suited his urbane appearance and classy charm. “I’ve often wondered if some plastic surgeons forget their oaths to do no harm.” He touched her forearm, sending her focus away from his mesmerizing eyes. “You’d probably think less of me if I said, ‘If the price was right’, so I won’t answer that question.”
His dodge disappointed her, and he looked less handsome for it. Then she mentally kicked herself, wondering who was shallower, him for doing what his patients asked or her for getting all caught up in a man with an intriguing face before knowing a single thing about him.
Everyone around the table stared at their drinks. The silence had gone on long enough.
“You’re not from Massachusetts, are you?” she said.
He shook his head. “California.”
“What brings you out this way?” Vincent asked.
“My kids.” He got a distant, almost pained look in his eyes, but quickly snapped out of it. “They go to school out here.” He took a long swig of his drink. “My ex-wife insisted on sending them to an exclusive boarding school back east, which meant moving across country and driving two hours in order to see them every other weekend.”
“So does your ex live here too?” Vincent asked.
“Nope. Patrice is still back in California.”
This earnest dad who’d do anything, including move across the country, to be near his kids, took her by surprise. If she had been keeping tally, he’d moved back up the plus column. “I’ve heard it’s a great school.” Meaning it was expensive.
“Oh, yeah, the best.” He finished another long drink. “Which is the main reason I chose plastic surgery this time around.” He gave an I-don’t-give-a-damn-what-you-think glance, meant only for Kasey.
Yes, he came off gruff and uncaring, and maybe a little drunk to be talking about this with near strangers, but Kasey saw through the façade and did the math. He had an ex-wife who got alimony and kids in a private school. The man was upgrading his pay scale by going into plastic surgery. A perfectly respectable specialty in this day and age so she wasn’t going to come down hard on him for that.
Her father had never even tried to find her. This guy had moved across the country to be near his kids.
He took a long draw on the last of his beer. Vincent waved his hand to the passing waitress and ordered another round. “You’re not driving, are you, Dr. Finch?”
“Call me Jared. Actually, I’m within walking distance of here. What about you guys?”
“The T,” Kasey and Vincent answered in unison, then locked pinky fingers. “Jinx, one, two, three, you owe me a beer,” they also said in unison.
Jared cocked his head, glancing at Kasey and Vincent. “I keep forgetting I’m not in California any more. We can’t live without our cars.” Ignoring the pinky locking, he pinned Kasey with an inquisitive look. “Do you feel safe riding the T at night?”
“As a woman, I’m never completely comfortable commuting after dark, but as long as I’m home before midnight, I’m okay with it. Anyway, after the T there’s a bus that takes me right to my street corner. It works out pretty well.”
Jared glanced across at Vincent. “You’re not seeing her home?”
“She’s my best friend, but also a big girl, and I’m a big boy in the big city. Besides, I live in Jamaica Plains at the other end of the Orange line, and she lives in Everette. We’re okay with that, aren’t we, Kase?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, just as the waitress delivered their next round of beers. “I’m fine with that. If you can’t handle the transportation, get out of the city, I always say.”
From across the booth Vincent reached for a high five and she joined him, grateful she wasn’t drinking on an empty stomach and wondering what the heck Dr. TD&G thought about their childish antics. Ah, what did she care? After next Tuesday he’d only have another eight to ten hours left to volunteer at the clinic and then she’d never see him again anyway.
By the end of the next beer even Jared had loosened up and the conversation had run the gamut from surviving while going to school to favorite pubs in the area to bad break-ups. And Kasey’s head had started to spin with all the details.
“This certain person, who shall rename mainless,” Vincent said, and giggled. “I mean shall remain nameless, took all my favorite CDs and DVDs before we broke up. Should’ve seen it coming, I guess.”
“No, no, no.” Jared said. “You have no idea what a real break-up is. California style. I’ve been a doctor for thirteen years and I’m living in a basement apartment with rented furniture, thanks to my ex.”
“So