Page 43 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

“People dancing badly.”

“That puts me at a disadvantage.”

“Because you can dance?”

“I can hold my own.”

“I’ll need evidence.”

“You’ll get it.”

The wine arrived along with warm bread and olive oil. I tore off a piece and dipped it.

Elijah watched me take the first bite. “You like it?”

“I do.”

“Good.”

“You’re watching me eat.”

“I’m watching you.”

The warmth in his gaze moved over my skin like a touch. I reached for my wine.

“Tell me something about you that I don’t know,” I said.

“I own a free clinic in North St. Louis.”

I lowered my glass. “You own a clinic?”

“With several partners, but it began as my idea. We provide care to people who are uninsured or underinsured.”

“When do you find time for that?”

“Thursday evenings and two Saturdays a month. Other physicians rotate through the remaining days.”

“You work at the hospital all week, perform surgery, and spend your free time treating people for free?”

“The clinic has paid staff. The physicians donate our time.”

“That’s beautiful, Elijah.”

His expression softened. “It’s necessary. Too many people wait until something becomes an emergency because they can’t afford to see a doctor.”

The passion in his voice reminded me of how I felt when I spoke about Zumba. I imagined his work exhausted him and consumed his time, yet he still gave more of himself to people who needed him.

“You care deeply,” I said.

“I try to.”

“No.” I shook my head. “You do. I saw it when you talked about your patients, and I see it now.”

For once, the confident doctor looked almost uncomfortable receiving praise.

He lifted his wineglass. “Tell me more about your videos.”

I smiled at the change of subject but let it happen.