It was time to stop doing that.
“Plus, most days don’t involve grenades,” I added with a half smile.
She laughed, the sound warming something inside me. “I would hope not.”
A comfortable silence settled between us. I was hyperaware of her presence—the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.
“It must be hard,” she said after a while, “meeting people in your line of work. Dating, I mean.”
The question surprised me. “It has its challenges. The travel, the unpredictable schedule. The secrecy about what I do, sometimes.”
“No Mrs. Cross in the picture, then?”
“No. Almost, once.” I hadn’t intended to share this, but it felt right. “I was engaged, but we broke it off. Realized we weren’t compatible before we made it official.”
“That’s rough. But better to find out before, I guess.”
“Much better.” I glanced at her. “What about you? Boyfriend hiding somewhere I should know about? Security concerns and all.”
She shook her head, smiling. “No time to date, really. Not since Nova’s career took off. I’ve been out with exactly two guys in the last eighteen months.”
“Only two? Their loss.”
Her cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. “One was with a man named Tommy I met at a coffee shop here outside Dallas. We went out twice, and he was nice enough, but there just wasn’t any spark, you know?”
I nodded, trying to ignore the relief I felt at hearing there was no spark.
“The other was a setup from Dexter. A friend of his named Benedict.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Total disaster.”
“How so?”
“Well, for starters, he showed up forty-five minutes late wearing what I can only describe as a cape.”
“A cape?” I couldn’t help laughing.
“Not a superhero cape. Like a fashion cape. With sequins.” She was laughing now too. “He then proceeded to order for me without asking what I wanted, lectured the sommelier about wine, despite knowing nothing about it, and spent the entire meal talking about hiscraft.”
“Which was?”
“Apparently, he’s asound healerwho specializes invibrational realignment through crystal bowls.” She made air quotes with her fingers. “He insisted on demonstrating at the table. The manager asked us to leave.”
I was full-on grinning now. “That does sound like a disaster.”
“Sometimes staying single is just easier,” she said, still smiling.
“Easier, yes. But not always better.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Our eyes met, and something electric passed between us. The air in the room seemed to thicken. She was close enough that I could see the faint freckles across her nose, the flecks of gold in her green eyes.
“I should probably get to bed,” she said softly, but she didn’t move.
“I’ve enjoyed this,” I admitted. “Talking with you.”
“Even without my business attire?” There was a teasing note in her voice, but something vulnerable beneath it.
“Especially without it.” I held her gaze. “I like you like this. Comfortable. Real.”
Her lips parted slightly, and for a wild moment, I thought about leaning forward, closing the distance between us. The urge was so strong it startled me. I hadn’t felt this kind of pull toward anyone in a long time—maybe ever.