Page 9 of Wild Card

“I didn’t refuse dinner. I refused Tom’s.”

“Why? Tom’s has excellent food, great drinks, and the atmosphere is perfect.”

“It’s crawling with police officers and bar food.”

“Yes! Eye candy and glutenous delights. I love bar food.” She gestures wildly, her voice rising. “Plus, it’s Friday night! We never go out.”

“We went out last week.”

“And it was awesome…”

“You weren’t the one fighting off the overly friendly guy who couldn’t take a hint.”

“I found the perfect solution!”

“You made me seem like a charity case who can’t take care of herself.”

“Did not. I found the hottest guy in the bar and saved your ass.”

“I could have handled that man without the testosterone showdown.”

“First off, you are way too polite and it wasn’t working. Second, my way was much more fun.”

“For who?”

“For everyone watching. Mr. Magic didn’t seem to mind either.”

I roll my eyes at her term. “Please don’t refer to him as that.”

“No, you ran off before we could get his real name. He will forever be known as Mr. Magic for making you smile.”

“I smile all the time.”

“You give your professional smile. When’s the last time you actually smiled?”

I wrack my brain for an example when her screen flashes with an ad for a motorized scooter. All thoughts of smiling are gone as I remember the mobility of her last patient. “Is that for Mr. Pacer?”

She scrunches her nose, her eyes darting to the screen. Her expression changes, one side of her lips curling. “No, he’ll be walking miles when I’m done with him. This is for you.”

“Why do I need a motorized scooter?”

“Because you’re determined to skip your youth and catapult straight into old age.”

“That’s harsh.”

“Stop acting like an old hodger.”

“What the hell is a hodger?”

“It’s a family term. Means you’re geriatric.”

“Jesus, maybe we should go back to the silent treatment.”

“Do I detect hostility?”

“You’re being a bitch.”

Her mouth splits wide. “Say it again.”

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