“If it doesn’t border Oklahoma, I haven’t been there.”

“Really? Do you enjoy travelling?”

“I love it. I’d jump at the chance to see new places.”

“Was your family not big on it?”

Lauren took a sip of wine while she considered how to answer. “My parents divorced when I was young. My mom travels a lot, but I grew up with my dad. He doesn’t drift far from home.” She set her glass down. “But when I’m finished with residency and get a job, I’ll go places.”

“I hear that. It feels impossible to do anything fun while I’m in school.”

“The end is in sight for both of us.” Lauren leaned back and regarded her companion—not her date—admiring the way his chest filled out his dress shirt and the way his jaw flexed as he chewed. Good grief, get a hold of yourself, woman. “So. Tell me three unique things about Andrew Bishop.”

Appearing surprised, Andrew said, “Like what?”

“Anything. What makes you different from the guy at the next table over? From my ex-boyfriend? From Logan?” She winked, and he grinned. “The stranger the better.”

Andrew rubbed his chin. “Wow. Uh…okay, here’s one. I hate pickles.”

“I ask you for a unique fact about yourself and you’re giving me pickles?”

“What? My sisters love them. They think it’s weird that I hate them,” he said before taking a bite of steak.

Her expression went flat. “Come on, you can do better than that. Hating pickles is no big dill.”

His face was blank for a beat before he laughed, a rich, throaty sound.

She smiled wide, unable to help herself. “That’s one of mine. I’m a master of puns.”

“Oh, I remember. Im-port-ant?” He shook his head. “What else have you got?”

“I asked you first.” She looked down and focused on cutting a piece of chicken, like she had all the time in the world.

“Okay.” He took another bite and leaned back in his chair, chewing and swallowing before he spoke again. “My favorite color is pink.”

“Is not.”

“I swear. Always has been. I know it’s not a traditional favorite color for men, but I don’t see what the big deal is. There are so many great things that are pink, like cotton candy. Shrimp scampi. A medium steak. Elvis’s Cadillac.”

“Tutus. Hair ribbons. Flowers…” Lauren teased.

“If you think you’re the first woman to make fun of me for that, guess again.”

“Well. If you like women who wear pink you’ll be sorely disappointed by me. With my hair and complexion, pink and I do not go well together.”

“Permission to flatter?” he asked.

She shook her head, despite the fact she’d love to hear what he wanted to say. “Denied.”

Andrew grunted. “Fine. I’ll save it for later.” He pointed a finger at her. “You’re up.”

“I love documentaries.”