“You want to grab some dinner?”
“Depends. Is this a date?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Just wanted to know if I’m going to get laid at the end of it.”
He grinned, looking so damn handsome when he did it. “With me, you’ll always score.”
I threw my fist up. “Yes.”
He chuckled. “You want to go now?”
“Yes. But I have one stipulation.”
He closed his laptop and rose to his feet. “You and your stipulations. What is it?”
“I don’t like the fancy scene. I’m a casual eater. So, if you want to take me out somewhere, I’m down for a burger and fries.”
“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any sexier…”
We sat across from each other at the sports bar, one of my favorite places to go after a long day at the clinic. Chatter and music were loud overhead, the TV showed the baseball game, and we drank our beers as we split a basket of fries and ate our burgers.
“So, if we’re going to do this, we should probably talk about the work situation.”
He took a drink of his beer before he licked his lips. “What’s the work situation?”
“You’re smart—I know you can figure this out.”
He smiled before he grabbed a fry. “I don’t think there’s a situation.”
“Well, we should keep it private.”
“Why?” Just when he finished his beer, the waitress brought him another—along with plenty of smiles.
Wasn’t jealous. Couldn’t blame her. “Because it’s inappropriate for me to be dating my boss.”
“Says who?”
“I just think we should keep it private, okay?”
“No.” He ate another fry and chewed it as he stared at me.
“No?” Did he just say that to me?
“I don’t do secrets.”
“It’s not a secret. It’s just professional.”
“Professional is not screwing on my desk while our colleagues are in the office. Secret is hiding your life from everyone around you. There’s a difference. Yes, we will be professional at work at all times, but I’m not going to hide my life from people.”
“I just don’t want people to think I’m getting special treatment—”
“And you won’t.”
I sighed before I dug my hand into the shared basket of fries and grabbed a handful. “Fine…whatever.”
“When’s your next poker tournament?”
“Quite the change in subject…”
“I’d rather enjoy this date than watch you sulk in your silent tantrum.”
“I am not throwing a tantrum—”
“You always have to get your way. And you don’t like it when you don’t.”
“Well, who does?”
He flashed a smile. “Answer the question.”
“In a couple weeks.”
“Do you do anything to prepare for those?”
I shook my head. “Not really.”
“You’re just that good?”
“Just that smart, you mean.”
He grabbed his new glass and took a drink. “Is that how you afford that nice place?”
“Yep.”
“Smart.”
“You don’t think I’m superficial?” I’d been told that before, that I did something only for the money, while my opponents were more invested in the game. “That it’s unfair that I win most of the time because I’m smarter than everyone else?”
“No. You want nice things and are utilizing your skills to make that happen. There’s nothing wrong with that. And is it unfair? Of course it is. But that’s life.” He took another drink. “The clinic doesn’t pay a lot, at least not for Manhattan, and you work so many hours that you’re basically volunteering most of the time. So, to answer your question, no. I don’t think you’re superficial. Has a guy told you that before?”
“A couple times.”
“They’re just pissed they can’t do it.”
“Yeah, that’s what I think too. I’ll meet a guy and everything will be going well, but then when I tell him more about myself, he gets really intimidated and the whole energy is totally different.”
“Lame.”
“Do you have that problem?”
“What?”
“Women being intimidated by you?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“What about that woman you were in a long-term relationship with? You said she was smart.”
“Yes. She was a biomechanical engineer. Creates vaccines, drugs, all kinds of things…”
“Oh wow, that’s cool.”
“And no, she never was.”
“Why did you guys break up?”
The question changed his mood noticeably. He kept his hand on the top of his glass but didn’t take a drink. “Just didn’t work out.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
He took a drink. “I just don’t want to talk about her. Ever.”
“Damn, it must have ended pretty badly, then.”
He gave a slight nod. “In divorce.”
“Oh… I didn’t know you were married.”
“Briefly. Just a couple years.” He drank his beer then looked away. His elbows rested on the table, and he examined the people in the bar, like he wanted this conversation to die.
“Can I ask how long you’ve been divorced?” Because if it was still off-the-cuff raw, then this was probably a bad idea.
“About three years now.”
Then that should be fine. He wasn’t still hung up on her, just bitter. “My dad was married to someone else before he met my mom.”
He turned back to look at me, relieved by the change in subject. “He mentioned that.”