Page 67 of Dark Rover's Luck

"Eventually, yes. I enrolled in university and tried different subjects until I found one that captivated me." He moved to a pot of boiling water she hadn't noticed before, dropping in what looked like finger potatoes. "That turned out to be archaeology."

"The perfect field for someone who's actually lived history."

"That's why I chose archeology and not history." Din chuckled. "I had to be careful not to reveal knowledge I shouldn't technically have. Even worse, if my account would be dismissed because it didn't follow the established orthodoxy."

She winced. "I would have hated being in a situation where I knew what really happened, but no one believed me. I would have been so pissed."

"I can imagine." He cast her an amused glance.

As he kept working, Fenella watched his strong, capable hands moving with purpose and assurance, and it was so bloody sexy it made her tingle, and she couldn't remember tingling in a very long time.

"What about you?" Din asked. "What else have you done during your travels?"

Fenella took another sip of wine before answering. "Nothing worth mentioning, I'm afraid. Waitressing, chambermaid work, things that paid cash with no questions asked about documentation.” She chuckled. “I make it sound like all I did was work, but I also partied, went to clubs, and met interesting people. It wasn’t all bad." She paused, wondering if she should mention it again. "I played poker, sometimes for money, sometimes for thrills, and oftentimes for both."

"So you said. Professional gambling?" Din looked impressed rather than judgmental. "That takes skill, especially since you probably couldn't enter your opponents' minds, right? You didn't acquire the ability after your transition."

"I didn't, but I have great intuition. I also have a good poker face, which I've had plenty of practice perfecting."

There was a brief silence broken only by the sounds of the gentle bubbling of potato water and the sizzling of asparagus spears Din had added to a second pan. Fenella found the domesticity of the moment calming.

"This is nice," she said quietly, almost to herself.

Din glanced up from draining the potatoes. "What is?"

"This." She gestured vaguely around the kitchen. "A guy preparing a home-cooked meal especially for me."

"I hope it lives up to your expectations." He placed a beautifully arranged plate before her—the steak perfectly medium-rare as she'd requested, accompanied by boiled potatoes, asparagus, and a small ramekin of what appeared to be béarnaise sauce. The presentation was as impressive as the smells were appetizing.

"This looks incredible," she said.

Din smiled as he sat beside her at the counter, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him but not so close as to invade her space. "I like eating well."

She was a little disappointed that he hadn't served the meal in the dining room, complete with a white tablecloth and lit candles, but maybe it was better this way—just two friends sharing a meal, with no expectations and no pressure.

The first bite of steak melted in her mouth, rich and flavorful. Fenella closed her eyes for a moment, savoring it. When she opened them, she found Din watching her with an intensity that sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

"Good?" he asked, his voice slightly lower than before.

"Extraordinary," she admitted. "You've been holding out on me, professor. This isn't just knowing how to cook a steak—this is culinary excellence."

Was she flirting with him?

It felt natural, even refreshing. There was something about Din that made her feel safe. Not just physically secure, but emotionally so—as if he would accept whatever she offered without demanding more than she was willing to give.

As they ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, savoring the exquisite meal and punctuating the quiet only with the clink of silverware against plates and appreciative murmurs, Fenella studied Din surreptitiously between bites.

She hadn't remembered him being so attractive, and the truth was that he was becoming more and more handsome in her eyes the more time she spent with him. Maybe it was her growing affection for him that was changing the way she saw him.

He was handsome, but not in the conventional, flashy way like Max. Din's looks were subtler, more nuanced—the kind that revealed themselves gradually rather than all at once.

"Do I have sauce on my chin?" Din asked, catching her gaze.

"No." Fenella laughed. "I was just thinking that you're not at all what I expected."

"Is that good or bad?"

She considered for a moment. "Good. Definitely good. You aged well without aging."

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