Not in the Cards (The Beaufort Poker Club #5)

1. Jason

1

JASON

H ome.

It had been a while since I’d seen this stretch of sand. The sea breeze and sunshine were the perfect welcome back to the Carolina coast. Most of the people I served with made it a point to visit home whenever they got leave.

But me? Hell no.

Joining the military had been my ticket out of the little fishing town I grew up in. I rode that roller coaster as far as it could take me. Now, with twenty years under my belt, I snagged my pension and resigned my commission.

Retirement had been my goal since day one. I wasn’t one of those guys who wanted to die working in my MOS. The Navy was simply a means to an end.

A really friggin’ awesome end.

I bobbed up and down in the surf, straddling my board as piddly little waves cracked against the shore. Atlantic Beach wasn’t exactly a hotly contested surf spot. It was a far cry from the waves I caught paddling Pipeline off the coast of O’ahu, or riding Talofofo in Guam.

Maybe I’d take a day or two and hit up the Outer Banks; drive out to Cape Hatteras to camp and surf for a few days. I might see if Bee wanted to come with me.

The thought of my baby sister put a smile on my face that bordered on clownish. I felt like a jackass for missing her thirtieth birthday a couple of years ago, but deployments happened.

Driving out to the beach may or may not have been an impulsive decision.

As soon as I got into Beaufort, I headed straight for the little storage unit I kept in town and found my surfboard propped against the wall.

On a whim, I loaded it into the rusted truck I'd been driving since high school and crossed the bridge to Atlantic Beach.

I should have been a productive adult and ticked off the things on my to-do list. Things like following up on the rental listings I’d been checking out .

But I was retired. To-do lists could wait until the good waves passed.

The blistering June sun beat down on my back. I chided myself for not stopping at a drugstore for some sunscreen. After packing up what little I had in California and traveling for the better part of two days, I was itching to move my body against the forces of nature.

Sunshine, sea air, and saltwater were good for the soul. Bridget called it vitamin sea .

I savored the reprieve from crowded airports, breathing recycled air, and suffering through someone else flying the damn plane. Commercial airliners moved too slow for my liking.

The swells dropped to ankle slappers, so I stretched out on my surfboard and paddled back to shore .

When I made it to shallower water, I rolled off the board and tucked it under my arm to haul ass up the beach. Suddenly, my world turned upside down as a powerful undertow ripped my feet out from under me.

“Fuck!” I shouted as a wave crashed over me.

Saltwater stung my eyes and burned through my nose as the turbulence took me under. I rolled over and scrambled to get to my feet, but the push-and-pull of the undertow kept me pinned.

The strap connected to my surfboard tugged against my ankle, pulling me back to sea, before finally snapping. Years of sitting in my storage unit must’ve made it dry rot. My board disappeared into a crash of seafoam, and what remained of the cord dangled from my leg.

Searing pain sliced through me. I choked on a mouthful of foamy ocean water. Finally, I got my bearings and worked my way up the shallows, spewing brine and sputtering for air as I tried to catch my breath.

“Hey, bro! You alright?” A man in red swim trunks had grabbed my board out of the water and was jogging my way. “Whoa, dude—” he pointed to my chest “—you’re bleeding.”

I looked down.

Sure enough, a three-inch slice between my pec and shoulder was gushing blood like a waterfall.

Well, fuck.

“I’ll be alright,” I said tentatively, then grabbed my board from him and nodded. “I appreciate it, though.”

He pointed to the cut. “You sure? That looks pretty nasty.”

I waved it off. “I was heading out anyway. It’ll be alright.”

The guy shrugged and ambled back to where his little family was soaking in the summer day under a Shibumi Shade.

I grabbed my t-shirt off the beach and pressed it against my chest, wincing at the sting. It probably wasn’t the best idea to get sand in the wound, but something to stop the bleeding was better than nothing.

I just hoped the folks in the emergency department at Carteret Presbyterian didn’t throw a hissy fit when I showed up bare-chested. Did no shirt, no shoes, no service apply in the ER?

The bleeding had slowed to a trickle by the time I made it back to my truck and threw my surfboard in the back. I pulled the seatbelt across my chest and used it to pin my bloodied, balled-up shirt to the cut.

Lucky for me, the midday traffic going back across the bridge to Morehead City was light.

I pulled into the hospital parking lot and cut the engine. My light blue ’79 Ford was well overdue for a tune-up. But overall, she ran pretty well for an old gal. It was the same truck I bought my senior year of high school. She had been a dream back then.

Keeping her at the storage facility covered by a tarp wasn’t ideal but, now that I was a free man, I had spare time to work on restoring her. For now, Blue Betty was good enough to get me from point A to point B.

I flipped open the glove compartment and grabbed my wallet out. My board shorts were still wet, and the towel I was sitting on was soaked.

Maybe I should have changed clothes first…

Oh well.

I slid my feet into a pair of flip-flops and hopped out. The pavement hissed as water droplets fell from my skin and hit the scalding asphalt.

The sterile aroma of industrial disinfectant, depression, and energy drinks hit me as the double doors parted. I dodged a floor sign that advertised CPR certification classes and headed to the front desk.

The triage nurse on the other side was a solid eight-and-a-half. I would’ve given her a ten, but docked a couple of points for career choice. Everyone knew nurses were crazy.

“Oh, my goodness!” she blurted out, laughing as I drew near. She circled her finger toward my chest, where I held my shirt against the cut. “What happened here?”

I flashed a smile and gave her a quick up-and-down. The blue scrubs didn’t hide her curves. Very nice. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder, and I stole a peek of her name badge.

“Well, Sadie,” I said, resting my forearms on the edge of the desk between bottles of hand sanitizer and a communal cup of ink pens. “I was out surfing off Atlantic Beach and got caught in an undertow. Something sliced me up.” Gingerly, I removed the shirt so she could get a peek at my wound.

Sadie nodded and quickly typed something into her computer. “Did you see what cut you?”

“Metal maybe? Could have been glass, though. Summertimers probably broke a bottle on the beach and didn't clean it up,” I said, shaking my head. Water flew off the ends of my hair like a golden retriever after getting hosed down.

A drop landed at the base of Sadie’s throat. It trailed down her clavicle and into the V-neck of her scrub top. My eyes followed it all the way down and lingered at the destination.

I drew my gaze back to her face and cleared my throat. “Sorry about that.”

Sadie stopped typing and brazenly raked her eyes over me. She smirked and licked her lips, then returned her attention to the computer.

“I didn’t have you pegged as a surfer,” she said. “You don’t look like the beach bum type. I’d ask if you’re here on vacation, but you called them summertimers . You from around here, pretty boy?”

I chuckled. “I used to live here. Just moved back. Today, actually. ”

“A trip to the ER on your first day back?” She gave me a playful tsk-tsk. “Quite the welcome home.”

I leaned over the lip of the desk. “I heard the ER is where all the pretty girls work. Figured it would be a great story for the future grandkids.” I ran my eyes over her again. “Turns out the rumors are true. You’re gorgeous.” I winked.

She giggled and pointed her ink pen at me. “You’re trouble, Mister.”

“McGrath,” I said, extending my arm. “Jason.”

She shook my hand and smiled. “You’ve been the best part of my day, Jason. Do you have your insurance card on you?”

I winced dramatically before pulling my wallet from the pocket of my swim trunks. “You had me thinking I actually have some game, and all you want is my money.” I shook my head and handed her my military ID.

She flipped it over and quickly logged my name, birthday, and DoD benefits number. “So, military, huh? Were you at Cherry Point in Havelock?”

I cracked a smile. “Nah, different branch,” I said, tapping the front of my ID where the word Navy was printed. “Cherry Point is the Marines.”

She blushed. “Oops.”

I grinned. Those crimson cheeks were kind of cute. “No worries, sweetheart.”

She handed my ID back and shot me a coy smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone in the Navy before. It sounds fascinating. I’d love to learn more about it.”

“I’d love to tell you about it over dinner,” I said without a second thought. Was I still bleeding all over the place? Sure. But there was no way I’d pass up a chance to get in on all that curvy blonde action. Even if she was a little crazy.

Crazy could be fun .

She smiled. “I’d like that.”

Before I could get another word out, the sliding doors that led into the emergency department opened. A stately nurse with silver hair called my name and waved me through.

The sharp aroma of antiseptic was thick as I strutted through the maze of partitioned treatment areas. We stopped, and the nurse pulled back a curtain. She told me, in no uncertain terms, to park my behind on the made-up hospital bed.

“I like a woman who knows what she wants,” I said with a smirk. She was at least twenty years my senior, but I had zero shame. Maybe she’d sneak me an extra Jell-O if I got stuck here for a while.

The nurse gave me a side-eye and stifled a smile. She shook her head then ran through my vitals.

It must have been a slow day. Once Silver-Haired-Sue left, all the nurses started circulating through my curtain room, one after the other.

“Anything I can get you, hon?” a redhead asked as she poked her head in. “You want a blanket or something? I know it can get kinda chilly back here.”

I smiled and shook my head. “I’m alright, gorgeous. How’s your day going?”

She seemed stunned that I’d asked. “Um, it’s pretty good. Nothing too intense today.”

Chuckling, I pointed to the butterfly bandages holding the deep laceration closed until the doctor could make it around to put a few stitches in. “Sorry I couldn’t make your day more interesting. Next time I’ll try to do better than a little nick. ”

Little Red laughed. “Most people try to avoid coming to the emergency room.”

“But then I would have missed out on meeting you,” I countered.

She smiled and wagged a finger at me. “You’ve been flirting it up with all the girls today. The entire floor is in a tizzy. I was just poking my head in to see if the rumors were true.”

“What’s your name, beautiful?” I asked.

Her cheeks went pink. “Whitney.”

“Do you believe in love at first sight, Whitney?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

I grinned. “Then do you mind stepping out and then walking back in again? I need to give this thing between us a fair shot. Love at second sight is a sure thing. The way you’ve got my heart beating makes me think it’s either love or cardiac arrest.”

She giggled and shook her head in disbelief. “Well, in that case, I’ll have to see about getting an electrocardiogram ordered.”

“Make sure it’s soon. I’m hoping to get out of here in time to have dinner with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Whitney tossed her head back and laughed. “You really are a shameless flirt, aren’t you, Mr. McGrath?”

“I think Whitney McGrath has a nice ring to it. Since there’s no ring on your hand, what do you say we hit up a jewelry store and the courthouse before dinner?”

She snickered. “Doc should be by in a minute to do your stitches. Behave yourself.” To prove her point, she pointed two fingers at her eyes and then turned them toward me.

I pressed my palm against my chest. “Cross my heart.”

“You keep distracting the nurses with all this—” she circled her finger toward my bare chest and arms “—and the charge nurse is gonna bring you some paper scrubs to make you cover you up. ”

I sat up straight and folded my hands in my lap like a proper schoolboy. “I’ll be on my best behavior, Nurse Whitney.”

It sounded like she mumbled, “ Yeah, right ,” as she pulled the curtain closed, but I couldn’t quite hear. I leaned back on the bed, crossed my ankles, and laced my hands to rest behind my head.

A day in the emergency department wasn’t exactly how I had planned on spending my afternoon. Or my evening, at the rate things were going.

I had planned on surprising Bridget. She knew I was retiring soon and had said she would fly out for the ceremony. But I didn’t actually want a ceremony or all the pomp that came with it. I got together with a few of my buddies for drinks to say goodbye before I left San Diego.

As for my sister, I fed her little white lies to throw her off my trail. I told her I didn’t have an official end date yet, and that I’d let her know when I did. Truthfully, I just wanted the chance to show up at that hole-in-the-wall bar she loved so much and surprise her.

The curtain whipped back, and a guy about my age walked in. “Jason McGrath?” It was somewhere between a statement and a question.

I humored him and nodded. “The one and only.”

“I’m Dr. Price, one of the attendings on the floor today. You can call me Dr. Price if you want, but Josh is fine.” He glanced over his shoulder at a group of nurses clustered around a station.

They were taking turns peering at me like I was an exhibit at a zoo.

Josh chuckled and turned his attention to the tablet in his hand that displayed my chart. “You’re quite infamous. You’ve got the rumor mill churning clear across the hospital.”

I shrugged. “Nothing good on TV. Had to keep myself busy.”

“Sorry, it took me so long to get down here. The charge nurse specifically requested someone without boobs to come do your sutures.” He snapped on a pair of gloves and smirked. “Something about time management and safe staffing ratios when the entire female staff is rubbernecking to see the—” he switched to a high-pitched falsetto “— shirtless hottie who needs stitches. ”

I laughed. “Point me in her direction, and I’ll work my magic.”

“Not on Mel,” he said with a chuckle, then peeled back part of the butterfly bandage on my chest. “She lives in a constant state of being unimpressed. She’s a tough cookie. Doesn’t put up with shit from anyone.”

“Sounds like you have some experience with that one.”

He shook his head as he stepped back and peeled the gloves off. Red smudges of blood covered the fingertips. “Nah, I don’t mix personal and professional. But I know that every guy who’s asked her out always leaves running with his tail between his legs.”

That sounded like my kind of challenge.

He added a few things into my chart then set it aside. “Alright. I’m just waiting on an extra set of hands to help me with your sutures, then we’ll get you stitched up and on your way.”

As if on cue, the curtain whipped back again. A short Black woman walked in, pulling a cart filled with sterile tools. Her eyes met mine. The corners of her lashes crinkled as a smile flashed across her face.

I swear, it could have lit up the night sky.

Without skipping a beat, she said, “Hey, flyboy. Long time, no see.”