Page 7 of Off the Wall

“Anyway, I think our table’s ready,” I say. I hate abandoning Eleanor, but I’m not about to subject Dr. Hanson to his oily gaze a minute longer. “So I guess we’ll just be on our way, then,” I say. “Enjoy your dinner, Eleanor.”

“Eleanor?” Cat-man scoffs, sizing me up for the first time.His furry brows contract into a single line on his forehead. “Hold on. Do you two know each other?”

“Yes.” I bob my head. “We?—”

“No,” Eleanor says before I can finish my sentence. I thought giving her back the napkin could break the ice between us, but whatever went down with that escargot didn’t do anybody any favors.

“We just live in the same building,” she adds.

Cat-man huffs out a breath. “So who’sEleanor?”

“Eleanor is my full name,” she answers, keeping her eyes averted from me. “But I go by Nori.”

Ah.

Nori. Cute.That suits her.

I take a step toward Nori’s date and extend a hand. “I’m Cash,” I say. “Cash Briggs.”

“Warren Snuze.” He goes in with a tight grip. Like, over-the-top firm. Apparently, there’s a little handshake war going on here.

But only in Cat-man’s head.

“And this is Dr. Hanson,” I say, tilting my head to introduce her.

“Margaret,” she says. “Or you can call me Maggie. Nice to meet you both.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Nori manages.

While her dinner companion continues leering at Dr. Hanson, I offer Nori a tight smile. “Have a good night,” I say, wishing her date was anybody but Warren Snuze.

“Don’t worry.” He wags his brows. “We will.”

Man, this guy’s got a punchable face.

I lead Dr. Hanson over to our table and pull out a chair for her. It’s not until I sit that I realize I’ve put myself in the seat with a direct view of Nori. While I peruse the menu, my gaze drifts back over to her again and again. There’s just something about her that draws my focus. Maybe it’s hervulnerability. Or the way she tried so hard to keep a smile on her face. I just want to check in on her. Take the pulse of her date. Gauge the temperature.

Each time I do look, though, I only end up feeling worse. Her lips curve down a little more, and they rarely move at all. Clearly Warren’s doing the lion’s share of the talking on their date.

Why is someone like her going out with a guy like this?

“The chicken piccata sounds good,” Dr. Hanson says, snapping me back to my reason for being at Vincenzo’s in the first place. The ultimate goal is to earn Dr. Hanson’s business, and dinner gives us time away from the hospital. No pressure, just two people sharing a meal. And if we end up discussing why Powell MedTech’s vertebral body system is superior to our competitor’s, so be it.

“The Margherita pizza sounds good too,” I say.

“Is that what you’re getting?”

I cast another quick peek at Nori, who’s currently slumped over her plate. “I can tell you what I’mnotgetting.”

Dr. Hanson arches a brow. “The escargot?”

I chuckle. “It’s like you can read my mind already.”

A busboy brings us a basket of bread, and a server shows up to take our orders, then we drift into the usual small talk between two people who’ve only spent time with each other professionally. In this line of work, trust takes a while to build, and I want Dr. Hanson to get to know me outside the OR.

When our food comes, we dig into our dinners, and I still don’t bring up Powell MedTech. Or Vortex. Or my ex-partner, Alex, who worked with Dr. Hanson during her fellowship year. I prefer to work hard, not sell hard. So I take my time, waiting for Dr. Hanson to bring up the job.

Halfway through our meals, she does.

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