Page 9 of The Run Option

“He turns out to be a jerk or a serial killer,” I answer.

She huffs out a laugh. “Going straight for the big issues, huh? Look.” She turns me around in my office chair. Her brown eyes are locked on mine, though partially hidden behind her blonde bangs. “You are gorgeous, smart, and you have your life together.”

I snort. “I’ll agree to disagree on that last part.”

“No disagreeing.” She points the curling iron at me. I lean back, worried she might singe me with it. “You will walk into that restaurant like you own the place, and he’ll fall so in love with you that he’ll forget all about having to go to his next surgery.”

“That doesn’t seem like a good thing. I don’t want to deny someone brain surgery.”

She gives me a flat look.

“Okay, okay.” I laugh. “I won’t cancel. But I can’t get rid of my nerves entirely. My last few dates have been horrendous.”

“That doesn’t mean this one will be. Now.” She pauses to spray my hair down, then fluffs it with her fingers. “Go change into your dress and knock him dead.”

“Thanks, Bianca,” I say with a smile. She pulls me up into a hug.

“You’ve done a lot for me. Curls and a pep talk are the least I can do.”

My smile grows. It warms my heart to know that she feels that way. I try to give my interns everything they need to succeed. That’s what the person who taught me did, and I was able to snag this job with the Lions at just twenty-three years old. Now I manage a group of three interns and handle all the social media for the team.

Her words give me the confidence to believe that maybe tonight will go well after all. I wouldn’t say I have my life together, but I’ve certainly come a long way since high school and even college. One date isn’t going to make me run and hide.

I’d very much like to hide right now. Somewhere this very strange man could never find me. I’ve been on some awful dates in my life, but never have I ever been so utterlyscaredduring one.

“See how precise you have to be?” Leo says, using his knife to gesture to the crime scene he’s made of his steak dinner.

Everything was going great when I first arrived. Leo showered me with compliments, asked about my job, and showed no interest in sports but still appreciated what I do. Then I made the mistake of asking what it was like to be a brain surgeon. He proceeded to demonstrate his latest surgery using his steak as a model. I haven’t been able to eat since he started.

“Wow, that’s something,” I choke out. It’s a good thing I haven’t eaten much because my meal might be about to make a reappearance.

“The human brain is fascinating. This steak doesn’t do it justice, you know?” He chortles as if he didn’t just scar me for life. “Do you want to see one of the video demonstrations again?”

“No!” I shout, drawing the attention of other patrons in the quiet restaurant. “I mean, no, thank you. I think I understand the gist of it.”

He takes a bite of his chopped-up steak and bile rises in my throat as I think about him calling it a tumor.

“You’ll have to come by the hospital one day. You can sit up in the operating theater and watch me work.” He grins like he just suggested a romantic walk in the park.

“Maybe,” I squeak out, then pick up my water glass.

“I bet you have a gorgeous brain,” he says reverently.

I start to choke a little on my drink but manage to recover before I cause any alarm. The last thing I need is him touchingme. I’m racking my brain for how to respond tothatwhen my phone buzzes in my purse. I glance at it and frown when I see my grandmother’s name on the screen. She knows I’m on a date. I called her at lunch to let her know, and she cheered as if she’d just seen the Lions win the Super Bowl.

“I’m sorry, I need to get this. It could be an emergency,” I tell Leo. He nods in understanding. I walk off toward the restrooms, happy for the excuse to get away from him. I’d already given the bathroom excuse once while he was describing what tools he used during surgery.

“Do you have some kind of sixth sense about bad dates? Your call just saved me,” I say when I answer.

“Miss Delmont?” a voice I don’t recognize asks.

“Yes, who is this?”

“My name is Carolynn. I’m a nurse here at St. Vincent’s. I’m calling because your grandmother had a rough fall, and she said you were her nearest family member.”

My chest tightens as fear grabs hold of me.

“A rough fall? Is she okay? How bad was it?” My words come out like a raging river, tumbling over one another.

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