Chapter 4
BELLA
Bella was hardly listening to any of the talks.
She was far too focused on the trays of food in her hands — until the handsome doctor came onto the stage.
He looked less put-together than the others, with slightly messy hair and his suit jacket askew.
Unlike the others, it didn’t seem like he’d stared in a mirror for hours while getting ready, and she appreciated that.
He had brown hair, short but not too short, and gray-blue eyes. His suit was tailored around his tall, strong frame, and he looked confident in front of everyone, as though he did this kind of thing every day.
What Bella appreciated most, though, was that he used actual words instead of jargon. She could follow what he was saying, about relying on help and looking at the facts to make decisions. It actually made sense, and she might try to use some of the principles in her own work.
Bella must have looked a moment too long, because she caught her foot on the edge of a chair leg and spilled a little of the sauce she was carrying down her shirt. Blushing with embarrassment, she pulled her gaze away from the doctor at the front and hurried to put down the rest of her dishes.
Spilling food on herself was great. Just great. In a day where everything had already gone wrong, it was just what she needed. All thoughts of the handsome doctor evaporated.
Bella hurried back to the kitchen, where she cleaned up — luckily, the sauce shouldn’t stain if she soaked it in cold water soon, but it did leave a mark on her top.
Then she dished up the desserts and went back out to serve again.
The handsome doctor had finished his talk while she was gone, and an older doctor with gray hair and glasses was now saying something in medical jargon again.
Bella served the desserts, then returned to the kitchen to clean up.
A mound of dishes had formed a precarious pile by the sink while she’d been running around putting out fires — mostly metaphorical ones — and she needed to get started.
All she wanted was to sit down for five minutes to catch her breath, but she didn’t have time for that.
She never did. So, instead, she began loading dishes onto the tray.
As Bella washed the first round of pots, she reflected on how badly this had all gone. She’d been so well prepared and so excited, but she’d still messed up, and everything had almost fallen apart. Bella wasn’t sure she could do another event this size, which was very disappointing.
She could hire help, but then she’d have to rely on people who could get the stomach flu or just not show up.
No, she just needed to find a way to be better all on her own.
She could do it. She always did. And she would do more events like this — she just needed a better plan.
If she worked hard enough, it would be fine.
Thirty minutes later, Bella had run all the dishes through the industrial dishwasher and put them away. Usually, she’d go straight home, but this disaster of a day meant that she deserved a drink. She needed to relax a little and try to move past everything that had gone wrong.
Bella slipped into the nearest bathroom, where she took her hair out of its bun and finger-combed it around her shoulders.
Then she changed from her white waiter’s shirt to the blouse she wore under her apron while cooking.
That one wasn’t stained, thank goodness.
Finally, she added a little lip gloss. In her jeans and blouse, she wouldn’t fit in with the doctors, but she wouldn’t stand out as a caterer, either.
The hotel was still buzzing with doctors from the conference. They were gathered in small groups, glasses of wine or champagne in their hands, talking and networking. Bella caught a few snippets of their conversations.
“… new attending with no qualifications that I can see—”
“… and I invented a new bloodless surgery procedure in my second year that completely—”
“… those little rice balls were just amazing—”
Bella smiled a little at the last comment, but the rest of them made her want to roll her eyes. She gave polite nods as she slipped past the doctors, invisible in the crowd. Once they knew she wasn’t a doctor, which they could tell just from looking at her, they didn’t want to talk to her.
That was good. Bella didn’t want to talk to them either. All she wanted was a drink and a way to get over the bad mood that was pressing down on her like a too-heavy lunch. At the hotel’s bar, she spotted a few empty seats. Apparently, the doctors were too busy talking to sit down here.
As she approached, Bella saw the handsome doctor who’d given the speech sitting alone, his hands wrapped around a glass of dark liquid, probably whiskey, in front of him.
He was gazing off into the distance, and he looked unhappy.
Usually, Bella wouldn’t have approached him, or any stranger at a bar, but today, things couldn’t get worse than they already were.
“Is this seat taken?” she asked, gesturing at the free stool beside him. The doctor shook his head, so she sat.
“Mojito, please,” Bella told the bartender. He nodded and turned around, gathering limes and mint leaves into a glass.
Glancing at the doctor, she added, “I liked your speech.”
“Thanks.” He turned to look at her, and from this close, she saw the flecks of dark and light blue in his soft gray eyes.
He looked to be in his mid-thirties, perhaps a little older than her thirty-four, but he was classically handsome, like a doctor in a TV show or on a poster.
There was a little five-o’clock shadow across his strong jawline — maybe he hadn’t had time to shave that day.
He also looked… tired. As though the weight of the world were simply too heavy.
Or maybe, more likely, Bella was just projecting her own exhaustion and bad mood onto this stranger.
“Are you a doctor?” he asked, taking a sip of the drink in front of him. He wasn’t looking at her.
“No, I’m not.” Bella met the bartender’s eyes as he handed over her drink. “Thanks, this looks great.”
The bartender winked at her and turned to tend to another group of clients on the far end. Bella turned back to the doctor, waiting to see how he’d react.
“Good,” he said simply. “I’ve had enough of doctors for today.” He glanced at her now, and his gaze was warm and weighty, like a hand on her shoulder.
“Same.” Bella sipped her drink, which was fresh and sweet and just the right amount of alcoholic. “A lot of the speeches seemed more about doctors promoting themselves than actually trying to teach anyone anything.”
The man grinned. The simple gesture transformed his face until he no longer looked world-weary. He angled towards her, still holding his whiskey.
“Thank you,” he said, nodding. “I’ve always thought so. Honestly, these events are just an endless blur of self-promotion and networking. The only good thing about them is the food.”
Bella chuckled, but she didn’t admit that the food was her doing. Still, warmth bloomed in her heart at the praise.
“What brings you here, anyway, if you aren’t a doctor?” the man asked. He drained the last of his drink and raised a hand to the bartender for another. “Are you in the medical field in some way?”
“Nope.” Bella shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about being a caterer today. She wanted to forget about food completely for a little while. So, instead of elaborating, she said, “Are you from around here?”
“I’ve lived in Portland for about five years,” the man said. “You?”
“All my life,” Bella admitted.
“You must be used to the rain, then.”
Bella rolled her eyes. “Classic transplant. I bet you think the rain is all we talk about.”
“It is,” the man said, raising his eyebrows. “In the last five years, I think ninety percent of my conversations have been about the rain.”
“Sure.” Bella drew out the word sarcastically. “So, where did you move here from?”
“Minnesota.” The bartender came back with the man’s drink, and he took a long sip, then turned to Bella. “Sorry, I should have offered to get you something.”
“No, that’s fine — I’m still working on this.” Bella gestured to the mojito.
“Is it good?”
“Yeah.” Bella sipped it again.
“Do you always get cocktails?” He smiled.
Bella nodded. “I don’t like the taste of straight alcohol. Mojitos are my favorite, but I like a bunch of different cocktails.” In fact, Bella had been considering taking a course and adding mixed drinks to her catering repertoire, but she didn’t mention that.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had one,” the man admitted.
“A mojito?”
“Uh-huh.” He nodded, and Bella’s eyes widened.
“What?” She shook her head. “That can’t stand.” She lifted her hand for the bartender. “A second mojito for the gentleman, please.” As the bartender went to make one, Bella turned back to the man. “Sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.”
“Luke,” the doctor told her, holding out his hand.
Bella took it. His hand was warm and steady around hers, and he didn’t squeeze too hard or not enough.
His palm was smooth and uncalloused, perhaps from so much handwashing.
A glance down showed that he wasn’t wearing a ring, and Bella’s heart skipped a beat.
“Bella,” she said. She raised her eyes to his, and something passed between them — something unspoken and warm.
Amid a conference focused on self-promotion, they had introduced themselves only with their first names, no titles or positions.
Bella liked that. She got the feeling it would set the tone for the rest of their evening — provided that they were going to spend more time together.
And Bella wanted to. It had been a long time since she’d flirted like this. Years of trying to date had left her feeling sad and distant, as men tended to find her a little bit “too much” — too driven, too closed-off, too independent. She didn’t get the feeling that was what Luke was thinking.
“Nice to meet you, Bella,” Luke said.
“Nice to meet you, too,” she replied. “Now, try your mojito. It’ll change your life, I swear.”
Luke raised his eyebrows as he lifted the straw to his lips and took a sip. As he put the drink down, he appeared thoughtful, his eyebrows drawing together. Then he nodded.
“I like it.”
“Thank goodness, because if you didn’t, I would’ve had to leave right now,” Bella joked.
“Well.” Luke took another sip of his drink. “We can’t have that, can we? Not when we’re just getting to know each other.”
Bella smiled down at her own drink. Maybe this day was finally turning around.