Page 23 of Steel Beauty

I blink at her, stunned for a second. “I’ve never heard of a potato-chip sandwich.”

Her grin widens, eyes sparkling with humor. “No one should ever hear of a potato-chip sandwich.”

She yawns suddenly, covering her mouth with her hand. “Sorry.”

I arch a brow, teasing, “Am I really that boring?”

Her laughter is soft. “Not at all. My body hasn’t adjusted to the time zone yet.”

I glance at my watch, noting the hour. “It’s late, even for me. The Rabbit Hole will be closing soon.”

I toss some money on the table, covering both our tabs plus a nice tip for Dave. I have to reward him for confirming Charleston’s identity.

She frowns slightly. “I can’t let you pay for my drinks.”

“Too late. It’s already done.”

Her expression softens. “Well… thank you.”

As she gathers her purse, I get up. “Can I drive you to wherever you’re staying?”

She shakes her head. “Not necessary. My hotel is a short walk.”

“Which one?”

“The Harbourview Grand.”

I grin, and she narrows her eyes, catching on immediately.

“Your family owns it, don’t they?”

I shrug, lifting a brow in silent confirmation.

We walk side by side toward the hotel, the quiet night disturbed only by the hum of passing cars and the distant roll of waves. Our conversation drifts easily from Sydney’s weather to favorite movies and the places she hopes to see before her assignment ends.

Then, about half a block from the hotel, she slows, stopping and turning to face me. “I’m sorry. I can’t risk being seen with you.”

I nod, slipping my hands into my pockets. “I get it.”

Honestly, I’m not too keen on being seen with her either—but for different reasons.

“So… are we really going to keep calling each other Charleston and Julius Caesar?” Truth be told, I like the game and mystery of it—it keeps things simple… or at least simpler than the alternative.

She nods, a thoughtful look glinting in her gaze. “Yeah… I think that’s best.”

“All right. I can roll with that.” I’m in no rush to tell her I’m a former professional athlete. That’s not a conversation I’m ready to have.

I glance toward the hotel entrance ahead, then back at her. “Goodnight, Charleston.”

Her lips curve into that quiet, knowing smile I’m starting to crave. “Goodnight, Caesar.”

I take a small step back, reluctant but knowing it’s time to leave. “I hope we get to talk again next week.”

She doesn’t say yes or no. Just smiles and says, “We’ll see.”

“I’ll be at the Rabbit Hole again tomorrow night. Ten o’clock,” I call out to her.

She pauses, glancing back over her shoulder, her expression unreadable.

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