Page 11 of Toward Immortal Ruin

“I’m not really that exciting, either,” she shrugged. “I’m a professor at the University of Chicago, currently on sabbatical to tour with my book, and my area of expertise is Gothic fiction. It’s been a passion of mine for years, and my dissertation slowly became a book.

“My life motto iscarpe diem, and my favorite thing to do to relax is have a cup of hot chocolate with one gigantic pink marshmallow, read a romance book, and curl up with my cat.”

Something feline roamed behind his gaze. “You like cats?”

“Love them,” she replied empathically. “Except mine is a bit of a terrorist herself. I have more claw and bite marks than is acceptable for any cat owner.”

“That’s what bandaids are for.”

“Precisely.”

Nero paused, then asked, “If you had a million dollars, what would you do with it?”

Sitting back in her chair, her lips twisted. “That’s a good one. Probably take a whirlwind tour of the world, see all the places I’ve never been to before. The world is big, and time is short.”

“Where would you go first?”

“Transylvania. Obviously.”

Nero snorted. “Obviously. Why did I even have to ask?”

As she sipped her cappuccino, she studied the man sitting across from her. He’d soaked up her every word. To be the center of that distinctly male attention made her feel genuinely appreciated. Evendesired.

“Siblings? Parents?”

“Only child,” she replied with a sad smile. “My parents met when they were older and had me late in life because they had trouble conceiving. My mom was 39 when I was born. She—ah, she passed six years ago from ovarian cancer.”

“I’m so sorry, Eden.”

She nodded with the familiarity of someone who’d heard it a thousand times. “We had enough time to say our goodbyes beforehand, and I really cherish those memories. But my dad—gosh, he’s wonderful. He’s 73 now, and he’s been in an assisted living community for years. Loves whittling, but his hands are a bit gnarled these days. They used to travel the country making baskets, so I have a few around the apartment still. I never did pick it up, though. Didn’t have the patience for it.”

As if realizing her monologue, Eden laughed under her breath. “What about your parents?”

“They’ve been gone for a while, but I have close friends on the island, and we do everything together. They’re family.”

Something in her chest twisted.

“Where did you grow up?” Nero asked.

“Montana, if you can believe it. My parents and I lived with my grandfather for the first decade of my life. He was a ranch hand out there when he was young and never really left. That man could make food that’d ruin you for anything else. My favorite, though, was always his grilled cheese.”

“Anything with bread and cheese, I’m in.”

“Oh, it’s amazing.” The fondness in her voice was unmistakable. “My grandpa was such a sweetheart, too. He hada mustache, and it always tickled me when he gave me a kiss goodnight. He taught me how to ride horses when I was a toddler. Put me on the sweetest little ponies.”

“Really?”

“No!” Eden laughed wickedly. “Ponies are the devil. Fluffballs sent from the depths of hell that get away with everything because they’re cute. But those ponies helped me learn how to ride anything with four legs and a tail, so there’s that.”

Nero heartily chuckled at that, as if she’d told a much better joke than her pony wisecrack. The man really was too good for her ego.

“What discipline did you learn? Do you still ride?”

“I haven’t ridden in quite some time. I rode western at first, but then I switched to hunt seat for the thrill of it. Did the A-circuit for a while, carted around on borrowed hunters and catch rode a few jumpers.”

She could feel the sadness permeating her voice, even after all this time. It was the one area of her life she’d do over again if she could.

“Why did you stop?”

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