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will be interested in it and how far it traveled from its natural environment.” She carefully moved the fish from the deep tray into the large carrier she had brought with her. “There,” she said. “It’s all packaged and ready to ride.”
    “Are you taking it back with you or sending it with someone else?” he asked, hoping she wasn’t.
    “No, there’s a co-worker around here somewhere. He’s transporting it.”
    “Good!” The words were out of his mouth before Shane realized what he had said. A Freudian slip. Gina looked up at him questioningly. “I mean, that’s nice that you have someone with you,” he quickly answered her gaze, trying to cover up his anxiousness to be around her. “Are you leaving, too, or would you like to hang around for a bite to eat and a beer? I know a quaint little place. I’ll even drive you there and bring you back to your car. How accommodating is that?”
    “Well, I think that would be wonderful,” she answered, secretly glad that he had crossed the bridge of wish between them. “That would be very nice, Dr. Shane Ryden. I’m not in uniform, so I can take you up on the beer this time.”
    Shane carried the container with the fish in it across the dock to the waiting Center van. The guy joined them and loaded it, securing into the docking port at the back of the vehicle. Once he had left, Shane and Gina walked across the lot to his car. “I’ve never ridden in a Porsche,” she innocently volunteered climbing into the passenger seat. Shane secretly hoped the car didn’t seem too ostentatious to her; he didn’t want to do anything to turn her off.
    ***
    A few minutes later, Shane parked in front of the Tin Roof Bistro, a small, well-known restaurant he frequented, but one Amanda had never liked. He even realized that his selection was another attempt at starting over, as well as recognition that Gina may be more comfortable with a menu that offered some Indian cuisine. As they looked through the lunch offerings, she didn’t miss the attempt either. “I do eat American food,” she offered. Shane looked up from behind his menu.
    “I didn’t mean anything by bringing you here,” he quietly said. “I like the place for the variety it offers.”
    She didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, then, “Shane, I enjoy your company very much, but if you think there will be a problem with our interracial-ness, just say so. I don’t offend easily; I’m used to it.”
    “Is that a word?” he joked at her. He realized instantly that she must be sensitive about that point.
    “What word?”
    “Interracial-ness, is that a word?”
    Gina smiled. “It’s my word,” she said. “I just made it up to fit the moment.” They both laughed. “I have no idea if it’s a word.”
    “It’s no problem for me,” he finally observed. “No problem at all.”
    Their conversation flowed easily, just as he had expected. He told her about his practice, the dog, his volunteer work at the free clinic, everything he could think of. He packed his life into what he thought Gina would want to know or have to know about him. She did the same, spending quite a bit of time in trying to relay how culturally stubborn her father was, how she had tried to defy him that one time over her only relationship, and how forcing her to give up the relationship had deterred her from forming other ones.  Shane earmarked that part of the conversation, just in case he needed the reference at some point in the future. Gina spoke of her newfound freedom of choices she had never been allowed to make and how she would handle her father firmly if he tried to meddle too much in her life. Shane told her he understood how difficult that must be; he was trying hard to separate his previous life with Amanda from how he wanted to move forward. They both agreed the challenges they faced were similar.
    Shane signed the credit card receipt for the meal. They casually walked to his car and he drove her back down to