Page 46 of When Glitter Meets Gold

“Business,” he answers casually. “But I have to ask, do you often frequent bars on the Upper East Side?”

She throws her head back, laughs. It’s a warming sound he realizes he wasn’t privileged to hear back on the trail. Why hadn’t he made her laugh more? He could listen to that sound all day. He clears his throat and orders himself to focus, especially when he catches himself glancing down at her hips, the exact spot he’d gripped hold of in the storm. Damn it, if he didn’t want to find that spot right now and pull her into him. Focus focus focus.

“Hard to believe the girl who peed behind a fern can mingle with New York’s finest? Likewise, I wouldn’t haveplaced you in this scene either. Who knew you owned hair product?” She’s smiling again, drawing his attention to the shape of her lips. “I’m here because of work, I get invites sometimes. Though, not usually as extravagant as this. Reminds me of my old partying days.”

J watches a sadness sweep onto her face. He frowns, the strangeness of their meeting melting away as they slip into easy conversation. “You don’t go to bars anymore?”

She shakes her head without looking at him. “Not really. I don’t even know what made me come out tonight.” She flashes him a smile he can’t decipher. “I’m glad I did though, I forgot how much I love places like this.”

He has the urge to ask what happened, why she doesn’t go out anymore, but that might be too personal. He’d ask if they were back in that tent, drifting off to the sound of rain, his hand wrapped around hers…

J watches her closely as she looks around, inspecting the place with soft, wandering eyes, and for some reason it makes him feel a little exposed.

“You like it?” he asks, surprising himself with the enquiry, surprised that he wants to hear her thoughts.

“I do.” Her eyes light up at first, but then she appears to collect herself. “I mean, it’s just another overpriced bar financed by greedy zillionaires who’ll probably never set foot in the place, while they reap the benefits from their super yachts in the Caribbean. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate luxury, I’m just saying…”

Then she stares off, contemplating. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know if the toilet seats are made of gold, would you?”

“What?” he asks grinning, but she’s not really listening, as she drifts off into some other plane of existence.

Then her eyes are widening as she stares at him.

“What’s wrong?”

Sara raises a delicate finger, pointing at him. “Were you just…smiling?”

He frowns, unsure of what the hell he was doing with his face while she was talking about yachts and golden toilet seats. Maybe he did smile a little, after all, how could he stand there straight-faced while she made these crazy assumptions?

“Oh my god, you were.” She folds her arms across her chest. “That’s a new record. It took hours to see you crack a smile on that hike, and now you’re grinning within the space of five minutes. Was it the mention of greedy zillionaires?”

J raises a brow. How can he explain that the only thing making him smile is her presence? How did she do that? How did she make him go from skeptical to a grinning idiot in no time?

“And speaking of roads less traveled, do you know anything about that man from the tower? The one you were radioing the night of the storm. Watch Tower or something? Was he the same man we met at the actual watch tower?”

That wipes the smile from his face.

“Yes. His name’s Burke,” J answers coolly. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, for starters, he paid the rental company for the damages to the Jeep. In full. Then, I find out he’s not even Mountain Rescue. Who the hell is he?”

J has two choices.

One, he can lie. Shrug it off and allow her to draw her own conclusions. She’s proven to be pretty good at doing that so far.

Two, he can just tell her the truth because there’s every chance she already knows.

The decision to be honest sneaks from his mouth before he can choose otherwise. “He’s my assistant.”

Sara pauses, then drags her teeth over her bottom lip. The gesture causes J to do a double take, and he can’t understand why he wants to watch her do it again.

He’s about to peel his eyes from her mouth when she raises her hands to her temples, closing her eyes when she says, “Wait. If he’s your assistant, does that meanyoupaid for the damages?”

Sara squints up at him through just one eye, awaiting clarity.

Fuck it.“Yeah.” J gulps more scotch as her other eye bolts open.

“Okay,” Sara begins, fresh confusion on her face in the moody light. “Why would you do that?”

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