Connall jingled some change in his pockets, pacing the foyer of the trendy lounge he and Bernadette agreed to meet at. He checked his watch for the fourth time: just after five thirty. He’d suggested drinks and then dinner after some more brainstorming with her, opting to take her to a more casual place than the first time. Though she joked about opulence and money, he didn’t want to scare her off by going too grand.

The fact that he was worried about scaring her off scared even him. What if the side he showed her was too opulent, too rich, or maybe too easygoing, or even too something else? Anything could be a misstep without realizing it, and the fact that he cared so much felt like a signal.

Bernadette was easily the most gorgeous woman he’d laid eyes on. But he still didn’t know that much about her, other than who her father was. Their first date had come and gone in a dreamlike blur, but now he needed to learn more about who she was. If she was actually someone he should pursue seriously.

He spent another few moments pacing before Bernadette breezed through the front doors of the lounge, looking a bit lost. A long black trench coat billowed back, showcasing a simple green dress that hugged her body. Connall smiled, heading toward her with open arms.

“Bernadette. You made it.” He pulled her into a quick hug, one that allowed him another whiff of that intoxicating vetiver. She squeezed his arms, smiling brightly at him, lips glossed and begging for a kiss.

“Of course. I’m not in the habit of standing up men who have promised me unlimited mint juleps,” she cracked.

“Oh, was that the trick?” He pressed his hand to the small of her back, guiding them toward an open couch facing a wall of windows, overlooking the busy Seattle street. “I’ll have to remember to include that as bait every time I invite you out.”

“You don’t need to bait me,” she said, settling into her spot. “Your accent does all the heavy lifting for you.”

He laughed, settling in beside her. She leaned toward him, close enough that he could feel the heat of her. “I had no idea it was so potent.”

“More potent than you can imagine,” she said, her eyes flashing. He slung his arm over the back of the couch, running his thumb over the top of her arm.

“You’re giving a decent man some very indecent ideas,” he murmured, his chest tightening. And that was putting it mildly. He loved the idea of being the respectable gentleman in the streets, but when it came to getting between the sheets, all of that flew out the door. He had a list already of things he’d like to do to this woman. The ways in which he would explore her.

Bernadette’s cheeks flushed, letting him know his comment hit exactly where he’d intended. A waiter sidled up to them for drink orders. Bernadette ordered a mint julep, and he asked for a whisky neat.

“So,” she began, once the waiter left, “my father wasn’t so happy to find out I’ve been seeing you.”

His brows shot up. “You told him?”

“I thought he should know, if your family has worked with him before. And, well…” She paused, studying something in the distance. “He was there when you called yesterday. So he knew something was up.”

“He heard you giggling like a schoolgirl,” he teased.

“Exactly. And daddy’s pissed,” she cracked.

“Hm.” He fingered the back of the couch, wondering how much he should reveal. Dale’s request echoed in his head. Now would not be a good time to probe into pissed-off daddy’s legal matters. “Well, I promise I’m a good boy. I won’t hurt daddy’s little girl.”

“Well, he recognized your name.” Bernadette lifted a brow. She was probing now—he could catch the lilt in her voice, the interest behind her words. “Specifically. Did you do something to piss him off?”

Connall’s stomach knotted. This wasn’t a great sign. “Definitely not. I barely know him, to be honest. He was more involved with my grandfather.”

“Ah.” Bernadette fingered a curl, her gaze drifting away. “So, no chance we’re stirring up a lifelong bitter rivalry by talking to each other?”

“I may be British, but I’m sorry to say this family history won’t be rivaling Shakespeare for drama,” Connall said, squeezing her shoulder. Better to just divert…especially because she seemed clueless about her father’s relationship to the Beaumont family. “Unless you’d like me to make up some sort of dastardly past.”

She giggled, swatting at his arm. “If you do, make it good. Something we can sell to Hollywood later.”

“Only if you promise to be the screenwriter.” He smiled up at the waiter who appeared with their drinks. He and Bernadette received their drinks and then clinked glasses, never breaking eye contact. After a sip, Connall said, “So tell me, Bernadette. What on earth do you do?”

“I observe wolves.” She set her drink on the coffee table in front of the couch, a sly grin on her face.

He laughed. “Oh yes? And what are they up to these days?”

Her smile fell slightly, and he realized she hadn’t been joking.

“They’re surviving. Barely.” She smoothed out a wrinkle in her dress. “I started a wolf sanctuary, where we monitor their habitat and everything involved with it. So, I could give you about five years’ worth of data, if you asked for it.”

He blinked, trying to align this chocolate-eyed beauty in front of him with someone who actually lived with wolves. “Blimey. You’re serious.”

Her smile turned shy. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’ve never met anyone who lives with wolves.”

She laughed, reaching for her drink again. “Well, at least I wasn’t raised by them.”

“No, that’s very obvious.” He paused, sipping at his whisky. “And probably the millionth time you’ve had to tell that joke to someone like me.”

Her eyes glinted as she smiled at him, leaning closer into his open arm. “It’s okay. With someone like you, I don’t mind.” She dragged her tongue over her bottom lip. “Like I said, the accent.”

He lifted a brow, dragging his fingertips over her shoulder, down the side of her arm. Her nearness was the only thing tempering a strange plummet of his stomach at hearing exactly what she did for a living. Lives with wolves. That didn’t sound like something that happened within Seattle proper. “So where do you dance with these wolves? Poor shot at a nineties movie reference.”

Her grin widened. “Montana.”

He tried to mask his surprise. “That’s a bit far.”

“Yes. In fact, I’m only in town to meet with my father.” She sighed, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “He’s helping me put together proposals to request more investments, so we can double the size of the sanctuary.”

He nodded, unable to look away from the disappointment shuddering through him. Not only did she live away from civilization, she lived far from civilization. Montana might as well be Canada. Living with the wolves certainly didn’t offer up many chances to wine and dine a lady, either.

“How very interesting. Do you live alone out there, or…”

“There’s a small team.” She cleared her throat. “But it’s very lonesome, yes.”

“Do you like it?”

Bernadette hesitated. “Yes. It’s my life’s work. I guess I wanted to get away from people after living in regular society for so long. Now, my vacations are times like these, when I come to the city, interact with regular people.” She paused. “Though I don’t know if I can consider you regular people.”

“I’m regular,” he insisted. “Regularly amazing.”

She snort-laughed. “Agreed.” After a sip at her drink, she said, “And what do you do, Mr. Regularly Amazing?”

“I run a company with my brother, B3 Engines.” He waited for the typical nod of recognition, but she just stared blankly. “It’s a tech engineering company. We make engines for high performance vehicles. Think Formula One race cars and the like.”

Her eyes widened. “Wow.”

He ran his thumb over the swell of her shoulder, unable to shake the feeling of disappointment lurking in the background. He wanted to enjoy this time with her, not waste it by lamenting the fact that she lived in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of wild animals. But somehow, it felt crushing. Like the small glimmer of hope he’d had was officially now squashed.

“You’ve never heard of it?”

“Nope. But it sounds very interesting.” She offered a smile.

So she hasn’t heard any of the media surrounding our desperate quest to save the company. She must be really out of the loop. And maybe it was for the better. “As does yours. Though it appears we have completely opposite professions.”

She nodded slowly, tucking some hair behind her ear. “Maybe. I’m sure there are more similarities than might meet the eye, though.”

“And here I thought you were living in a high rise downtown, beating off suitors left and right,” Connall said. “Turns out you’ve been in the wild, beating back wolves.”

“Observing,” she reminded him. “No beating back. That would be contrary to my mission.”

“Right.” He dragged his fingertips higher up her shoulder, broaching her collarbone, meeting bare skin. Questions stormed him: how did she live? Was it safe? Rustic? She had to be living amongst more than just wolves out there; didn’t that scare the shit out of her?

“Do you like your work?” Bernadette tilted her head to the side, welcoming his touch further up her neck. He scooted closer, leaning in, their knees brushing.

“I love it.” He ran his thumb over the hollow of her neck, enjoying the goosepimples that flared in his wake. “I have an amazing team of employees. They provide for me, and I provide for them. I get to take care of people who help bring my vision to life. I couldn’t ask for more, really.”

“What a heart of gold you have.” Her eyes fluttered shut briefly. “You love to take care of people.”

“Mm-hmm.” He leaned closer, dipping his fingers under an inch of her dress along her spine. The heat there was tantalizing, made his vision go spotty for a moment. “In all possible ways.”

She hefted with a laugh, dragging her gaze up to meet his. “Careful, there, or you’ll inspire more indecent thoughts. Mr. Decent.”

“I thought I was Mr. Regularly Amazing,” he murmured. Their neglected drinks sat collecting condensation on the table. At this rate, they might not even make it to dinner.

“All of the above.” She shifted, falling a bit further into his embrace.

“When do you go back, Bernadette?” He danced his fingers over to her other shoulder, picking up a lazy pattern. “Tell me how much time I have left.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Two days.”

Connall couldn’t hide his disappointment. His gaze fell to her lap. “Well. That doesn’t leave us much time.”

An awkward silence blossomed between them. Bernadette squeezed his hand. “You could always come visit, you know.”

Bernadette had said it without meaning to, really. She’d never once had anyone visit the sanctuary—not even her parents. It was a sacred space, one that she likened to the interior of her soul. It wasn’t for everyone, either. It was isolated, and cold, and extreme. Especially with the encroaching winter.

She’d invited a few promising lovers in the past, but every time, they found reasons not to come. Connall surely wouldn’t be different… But something had prompted her to suggest it. Maybe it was the look of legitimate disappointment that creased his face. As if she’d had to tell a young child they wouldn’t be going to the zoo after all.

She’d do anything to wipe that look off his face. And somehow, inviting him there wasn’t totally weird. It felt…natural, even.

“Really?” Connall’s face clouded over, and she couldn’t tell if he was excited by the prospect or merely confused. Shit, you’re probably reading this whole thing wrong. They’d barely kissed—why was she inviting him into the deepest parts of her soul? He’d probably run for the hills now.

“I mean, if you want.” She shrugged, trying to recapture a lighter mood. “I wouldn’t force you.”

“You wouldn’t have to.” He reached for her hand, covering it with his. He brought it to his lips, brushing a kiss against her knuckles. “I’d love to come.”

He sounded so sincere that for a split second, she fell head over heels with the possibility of Connall. That this was a real thing that might actually work, that he could possibly, somehow, be the man that she’d been hoping for her entire life. That partner who could support her career, complement her crazy life, be happy with living in Montana for months out of the year.

She hung onto it for as long as she could—a solid three seconds, by her count—before it dissolved into doubts and deflection. Just wait until he sets the date. Then it’ll get changed and pushed back and eventually just cancelled. There’s no way someone like Connall could ever be compatible with your life. This is a fool’s hope.

“You look at your schedule and tell me when you can come out,” she said, reaching for her drink. Hopefully he wouldn’t see her hand shaking. “I’ll show you what it’s really like to live with wolves.”