As if reading my thoughts, Johnathan chuckled. “I like your friend. Good wingman.”

“Yes. I’ll have to talk to her about that,” I said with mock severity. It felt nice to be back in the normal world. No one trying to kill me. A nice boy flirting with me. Someone more like me. Not some out of town billionaire. “Too bad there’s no dancing here…” I said without thinking.

He sighed. “I’m white. No dance skills here. Unless it’s the classical stuff.” He took a drink to drown his sorrows at such an unfair world.

“Of course. You know the Waltz. What was I thinking?”

He shrugged. “Mom made me learn when I was young. In case we ever traveled back in time to the Renaissance, or something,” he rolled his eyes. “Never had to use it. Shocking.”

“That dashing without it, eh?” I teased.

He choked into his drink, wiping his mouth as he turned back to me. Then he held out a hand to his reaction, as if proving his point about not being dashing. “Not remotely. Never tried hitting on an old lady before, though, so maybe I’ve just been barking up the wrong tree.”

“Good luck with that.” I looked over Johnathan’s shoulder, and saw Claire lurking near the opposite end of the bar, talking to a handsome, blonde-haired guy and his two friends. She craned her neck my way, making sure I had fallen for her trap. She even flashed me the thumbs-up sign. The blonde guy shifted bright blue eyes my way, and he dipped his chin pleasantly upon seeing me looking back at him. Not in a creepy way, but a polite hello. Which felt nice. Of course, he was probably trying to get into Claire’s pants, so befriending her friend would be helpful to him. His gaze drifted to the back of Johnathan’s head for a moment before he turned back to Claire.

“So, what are you doing here? Didn’t you say the other place was your usual bar?”

I nodded. “Wanted a change of scenery. Last time I was there, some jerk tricked me into lunch. I didn’t want that happening again. Imagine my surprise…” I feigned a resigned look, but he just rolled his eyes.

“You’re in my bar, now. Perhaps you should take a lesson and ask me to lunch.”

“How about a booth?” I asked without thinking, then flushed.

His grin stretched from ear-to-ear. “Deal,” he said, and grasped my hand, tugging me towards the nearest booth, even darting ahead of a waitress before she could sit a couple down in the spot he had picked out. The waitress didn’t look pleased, but his smile was infectious, because she only shook her head with a light sigh. The couple following her — a young, likely broke college couple — didn’t even appear to notice. “Better tip well,” the waitress muttered to Johnathan.

“For sure,” Johnathan nodded. We sat down and soon the night began to fade away. Like two old friends meeting up after a long break. He didn’t hit on me, although he had moved to my side of the booth at some point. He didn’t press, or try any of those sneaky games most guys try. Accidentally brushing my hand, or pressing his thighs against mine. Instead, he just watched me, staring at my face as we spoke. Sure, I caught his eyes wandering when I wasn’t looking, but they never leered, just admired. And the second I opened my mouth to speak, his eyes were back on my face, paying attention better than even Claire did.

It was… nice. And I soon found myself wishing he had tried one of those lame moves. But he hadn’t, and didn’t look like he was going to do so without encouragement.

“So, what about you?” I asked, glancing over to Claire to see her now seated at the bar beside the blonde guy. They were both laughing, and I saw him lightly touch her arm a few times, disguising the motion as part of the story he was telling her. She also found excuses to touch his thigh, squeeze his shoulder. They were having fun. Good chemistry. I turned back to Johnathan, sighing.

He swirled his glass contemplatively. “I guess I’m just trying to be a better person.”

“Used to be a bad boy?” I didn’t buy it. He was a nerd. But charming, nonetheless.

He smiled, and I knew that smile wasn’t capable of being a bad boy. He hadn’t even touched me since we sat down. Even accidentally. Of course, maybe his past was a different story. “Not any more than anyone else. I just, I don’t know, grow bored with all this.” He waved his hands vaguely.

“Having a conversation in a private booth with a pretty woman?” I arched a brow at him.

“No! I’m just, looking for more than most guys, I guess.”

“A wife?” I asked, a pang of distant anxiety hitting me like a gunshot.

“What?” he burst out, rounding on me in surprise. “No way. Not at all.” Again, I arched my eyebrows at him, and he realized that he was losing either way. “Well, I wouldn’t turn it down or anything, but I’m definitely not searching for it. It’s just… that other thing I told you about. It bothers me. Keeps me up at night,” he was staring into his glass, swirling it again.

I nodded. “Understandable. It’s a big question, isn’t it?”

He met my eyes. “Not really a question, though. You said you agreed, right?”

I sighed, looking down into my own glass. “I don’t know,” I answered cautiously. “Maybe we’ve both just seen some talented videos on YouTube.”

He was shaking his head. “Come on, Callie. I respect you enough to call that argument weak. Don’t belittle me. Or yourself.”

I smiled. Willing to call me out. That was… fresh.

“Fine. You don’t want to talk about it. I get it.” He didn’t sound angry or upset, just weary. “I guess you could say I just want more. Even without that other thing. Maybe I’m just looking for my own slice of heaven. Something worth my time. Not something from a magazine cover or reality TV show. Something real. Something worth my while—”

I leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Then I pulled away, drinking in his surprised reaction. “For your honesty.”

He turned to me, looking very hungry all of a sudden, entirely different than he had looked at me the rest of the night, and I began to feel my pulse race. Finally. I waited for him to make his move, and almost jumped out of my skin as Claire slid into the booth next to me. She leaned close to whisper into my ear. “There’s a certain someone causing a scene outside. Looking for you. I think you need to wrap this up.”

I leaned back, wanting to kick her across the room. But the look on her face was very serious.

I turned to Johnathan, frowning. “I need to leave. I’m so sorry.”

He frowned first at me, then at Claire, opening his mouth.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Callie will be calling you very soon, won’t she?” Claire asked, giving me a very threatening look.

“Sure. Yes. I will,” I said, turning to Johnathan.

Whatever he saw on my face made him frown. “Okay. Do you need me to walk you outside?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“No, we’ll be fine. Nothing is wrong. Claire just reminded me of another commitment that I forgot about. Because some jerk at the bar distracted me.” I smiled.

He nodded slowly. “Okay. Call me.”

“I will.”

“We still need to speak about honesty. You started a conversation you really should finish,” he smiled like a wolf to a sheep, no longer Mr. Nice Guy.

I laughed. “I’ll think about it,” I said, sliding out from the booth and pressing a twenty-dollar-bill down on the table. He began to protest, but I shot him a look and he sighed, withdrawing his hand with a very dramatic huff of breath.

I followed Claire through the bar, struggling not to turn and catch one last look at Johnathan. I succeeded, barely.

But all thoughts of Johnathan flew from my mind as I saw flashing lights through the door leading outside. People in the bar had stood to get closer to the window and watch. Claire squeezed the arm of the blonde guy on our way past, as he had also been staring out the window in curiosity. He looked much bigger up close, towering over Claire. He smiled at both of us before standing up on his toes, trying to see outside again. What the hell? Was there an accident or something? A fight?

Claire opened the door and I gasped. Cameras flashed, and a crowd of people stood shouting at a car parked in front of the door. A very nice, blacked out Denali XL, one of those the size of a small bus. Nate leaned against it, speaking to a young female reporter and ignoring the rest with a practiced, arrogant air. The lucky reporter looked oddly familiar as she slipped a card into his suit coat, but his eyes locked onto mine, and his mouth clicked shut.

I frowned, confused, but he suddenly swept forward, grabbed each of our hands, and led us into the back of the idling SUV. The shouting and flashing cameras increased, but he stood before the door, his back guarding us from the pressing reporters. I jumped into the car, more to get away from the reporters than to obey Nate. I was no stranger to crowds, but too many people had redirected their questions to Claire and I, and I felt my face flushing.

Nate climbed in behind us, closing the door to shut out the pleas from outside, and I realized it was a small limo. At least, the two bench seats faced each other. Claire and I sat side-by-side as Nate sat down opposite us. I wondered if I had the same stunned look on my face as she did. Nate smiled, and then rapped on the glass leading to the front of the car behind him.

Then he held out two bottles of water to us. “We need to talk,” he said as if it were the most normal statement in the world.

I burst out laughing. Partly with excitement. Partly with disbelief. And partly with thoughts for Johnathan. What the hell was he going to think about this? Not that I really cared. I had known him for one day, after all. Still, it wouldn’t look great, me leaving him at the booth for a rich man in a limo. Claire, too.

“I need a Goldilocks, but you’ll do,” he grinned.

I laughed even harder. He didn’t waste time. Already planning the next theft. From the bears, by the sound of it. I wasn’t upset any longer about that, focusing my frustration on Roland. He had been the one to not tell me we needed to retrieve all three pieces. Nate might have even assumed I knew all along.

Either way, Nate was good at two things. Making an entrance, and making an exit.