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Even though she still thought he was doing his job all wrong.
“Insult me?”
“You know, when I, um…called you Mr. Spock.”
“I didn’t realize that was an insult. But thank you for clarifying that.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” Then she flushed. “That’s a joke. Of course, you realized it was an insult.”
“Lanie says my sense of humor is so dry it would shrivel up the Sahara.” He grinned and another dimple popped out on the other side of his cheek.
Nate Miller had dimples! Lauren took a big sip of her wine. The appetizer arrived and it smelled heavenly. They both dug in.
“Perhaps, you’re right,” he said. “About the Mr. Spock thing. I’ve been told my bedside manner needs improvement.”
“Who told you that?”
“Doc Morrison.”
“Ouch. What exactly did he say? If you don’t mind telling me?” Lauren asked, trying to talk as politely as possible around all that heavenly cheese drenched scallop. “This is awesome, by the way. Great selection.”
He waited till he’d finished his own scallop, then took a sip of his beer. “He told me I needed to talk to the patients more. I believe his exact words were that I needed to learn to be gentler in my approach.”
She remembered what Mimi had said at Bunco
, about how it was well known around town that the patients weren’t happy with Nate.
“He kind of has a point,” Lauren said, cringing. Their date, well, it wasn’t really a date, (more like an enforced dinner), had actually been going well there for a few minutes. He’d probably sulk now that she’d backed up Doc Morrison’s view.
He frowned. “I’ve tried, but what he’s asking is for me to change my personality to match his. I like the guy. I admire him, actually, and he’s been good to me, but I don’t know that I can do what he wants.”
Lauren found herself staring at Nate. No, not staring, but maybe looking at him for the first time ever, really. He was asking for her opinion. This wasn’t polite small talk to whittle away the time until they could go their separate ways. Maybe he really was clueless about how he came off. She wracked her brain, trying to think of something to say that would help him.
“Maybe you can start by just listening more? Paying attention to body language? That sort of thing.”
“That takes time and patients complain when they’re made to wait too long.”
They both reached for the last scallop on the plate. Lauren laughed and was going to concede to him, but he used his fork to push it to her side. “Go for it.”
“Thanks, Tramp,” she said with a giggle.
Nate blinked.
“You know,” Lauren clarified, “that famous meatball scene from Lady and the Tramp? When they both go to slurp the last meatball and he nudges it her way with his nose. It’s so cute! I love that scene.”
“Ah, right.” He looked at her funny and she felt her cheeks pink up.
Okay, so he wasn’t a Disney fan.
Lauren covered up the momentary awkwardness by slowly chewing on her scallop. She dabbed her mouth with her napkin and gingerly laid it back across her lap. “Getting back to our former conversation. Maybe you could compromise? At the end of the exam, tell the patients they have, oh, I don’t know, five minutes to discuss anything they want with you. Sometimes all anyone wants is someone to listen to them.”
He nodded slowly. “Five minutes. That might work.” He signaled the waiter. “Another wine?” he asked her.
Lauren hadn’t realized it, but she’d already drunk her entire glass. “All right.”
“Or maybe you’d like to order a bottle?” Nate asked.
She suddenly remembered that Lanie told her she was paying for the meal. Another wine sounded lovely, but The Harbor House was known for its exuberant prices and she didn’t want to stick Nate’s sister with an outrageous bill. “I changed my mind. I think I’ll have water, thanks.”
