“My expectations are too high. Life isn’t a romance novel.”

“He’s a doctor. Your parents would love him.”

Dakota rolled her eyes. “That’s reason to lose his number right now.”

Mary leaned back in her chair. “He’s sexy.”

“His parents would hate me.”

“You say that about any parent that isn’t a fan. They’d love you.”

“They sounded pompous. Walt avoids them nearly as much as I avoid mine.”

“Does he have siblings?”

Dakota dropped her hand on the table. “I-I don’t know. We didn’t talk about it.”

“Has he ever had a serious relationship?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does he go to church?”

“I—”

“Democrat or Republican?”

“Good Lord, Mary, I didn’t have him fill out an application. I don’t know. Religion and politics didn’t enter in the conversation. And before you ask . . . neither did abortion.” Dakota moved to the coffeepot and filled her cup. Caffeine would be her best friend on this day.

Walt spent the morning huddled over coffee and a computer.

Damn electric bill was past due and he’d all but forgotten he needed to pay for water.

Something told him Dakota had this stuff down. She probably paid everything two weeks ahead of time all while having a manicure.

He’d noticed her finely polished nails the night before as she picked up the bowling ball and rolled the thing down the lane. She really didn’t know how to bowl. Telling her his average was well over 180 would have been a mistake. So he threw most of the game and didn’t even bother trying to finish.

She had a hard exterior that he imagined stemmed from her parents’ disapproval. Anyone as driven as she was had to have some kind of drama motivating her. He’d have to ask her if she had a sister or brother that buffered her parents’ issues with her writing. Or did her siblings feel the same way? He couldn’t imagine. At least his own sister understood why he had moved away. Brenda was stupidly happy and married to her first love. Or so that’s the story he’d been told when she’d announced she was getting married right out of college.

His parents would hate Dakota.

The thought popped into his head and actually made him smile. The opinionated and nonfiltered personality that endeared her to him would make them squirm, especially his mother.

Walt clicked the Pay button on his banking site and picked up the phone.

“Good morning,” he said when Dakota answered.

“You’re up early.”

“So are you.”

“I could still be in bed . . . lazy morning and all that.”

He leaned back, felt the chair tilt a little too far. Damn it . . . need to fix this thing.

“You’re drinking coffee,” he told her. “I’m thinking just sugar . . . or just cream, not both.”

Her husky laugh told him he was right.

“Raw sugar. Honey if I’m in a restaurant. Refined sugar is bad for you, Doctor. You should know that.”

He pushed away his empty bowl of nothing but refined sugar cereal and glanced out the window. “I’m working a midshift today, off a day, then on two mornings . . . have a dinner with the directors of Borderless Doctors after that.”

“OK.” She paused. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I told you my schedule was stupid.”

“Which is easier because you’re single.”

Right.

“Everything is squished together because of Miami and my dad’s birthday—”

“Walt?” she interrupted him.

“Yes?”

“Do you want to see me again?”

He hated how much. “Yes,” he admitted.

“Do you and your colleagues ever go out after a shift?”

He laughed, thought of the dive only a few blocks from the hospital. “Joe’s.”

“Fine. I’ll meet you at Joe’s for a drink on Tuesday.”

This felt too good . . . too right. “Do you pay your bills in advance?”

For a moment, there was silence on the line.

“What?”

“Your bills? Electric, water . . . that stuff. Do you—”

“I understand what bills are. Yes, I do. I hate to think of them stacking up and me forgetting them. Do you?”

He offered a nervous laugh, turned to his computer, and noticed a red “overdue” notice on his water bill. “Of course . . .” He punched in the amount due and hit Send.

“Doctor?”

“Yeah?” He clicked through the bills he normally paid, noticed his cell phone was a couple of days away from being shut off. “Damn,” he mumbled.

“You can’t lie worth shit. I hope you know that.”

He placed the amount due in the empty box, hit Send. “What?”

The rest of his bills were good. Rent was on a monthly payment, cable too—not that he really needed it. He was never home. Automatic credit card, and car payment . . . insurance.

There was silence on the line. “Dakota?”

“I’m still here. Are you done paying your bills?”

“Yeah.” Wait . . . did he tell her he was paying bills? “I’m busted, aren’t I?”

“You’re not perfect? That might be a deal breaker, Doc.”

He pushed away from his desk, drank his black coffee. “Tuesday?”