“I’m not sure about wine,” I said with a laugh.
His smile slipped.
“But I’m certain I’ll love it. You can pick what we drink,” I said in a rush, unwilling to burst this magical bubble of happiness we were passing back and forth between us. “Okay, let me grab my coat.”
“Here, I’ll get it.” He went to the corner of the room across from the curtain to the small coatrack where I’d tossed my things this morning, and my face burned again as he brought my black leather coat back and helped me slip it on. “I’ll drive, if you don’t mind?”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. Thank you.” I smiled at him and sighed internally as he offered his elbow. Well, hell. Maybe mixing work and pleasure wouldn’t be such a terrible thing, would it? Especially with a man this polite. “And thank you for being here for the holidays. Last year I almost had a nervous breakdown from the stress of getting everything done alone. And most of the money I make for the year is sitting in my safe right now.” I rolled my eyes at myself and pointed to the fake stone tile in the floor that hid all that cash. Only Van and I knew where to locate it and the lock combo, so I didn’t worry too much about leaving it here instead of in the bank. If that boy thought it was stressful carrying around half a million dollars of jewelry, he should try doing it with dollar bills and see how he felt.
“Oh, I know. It’s all in there.”
“Hm?” I asked, glancing up at him.
“I’m so happy to be here, too.” Van smiled and my heart fluttered like a damned butterfly. He led me out through the showroom toward the elevator. I flipped off the light switch on the way, and I didn’t know what to say on the ride down to the bottom of the high-rise. We shared glances and nervous smiles, and as I racked my brain for a topic of conversation, it occurred to me that even though Van and I had worked together for almost two months, I didn’t know much about him.
As we exited the elevator, I used my key on the number pad, turning it so that the elevator would no longer be functional for the night. When we went out through the small lobby, I did the same thing to the lock on the glass door, then checked it. Everything was secure.
“You’re not from New Gothenburg, are you?” I asked. We stepped away from the building into the chilly December air. Snow danced down out of the sky, and I drew my leather coat closer. He hadn’t bothered with outerwear, and I realized why when we made it to his car parked nearby on the street. The engine was already running as we approached, which was a neat trick. I hadn’t seen him hit the key fob on the way down. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. I could do worse than a man who thought of literally everything.
“No, I’m not,” he said, opening the passenger door for me. “You know, would you like to do dinner first? The only thing at the bar will be nibbles you probably don’t eat. Fried food. Things like that.”
I snorted. “Oh, you’re too kind. I can eat bar food with the best of them.” I patted my flat abs.
He chuckled as I sat, and then he closed my door. I buckled my seat belt while he went around to his side and got in. “You look so amazing.” He flashed another smile at me, and I caught a small peek at myself in the rearview mirror. My bleached hair was combed forward and to the side, and I had some five-o’clock shadow going on, but it didn’t look terrible. “You must watch what you eat and work out?” He scanned his gaze down my body.
I glanced out the window, hiding a grin. “Not really. Just lucky I guess.”
He hummed.
Traffic wasn’t too terrible this time of night, and I watched the holiday decorations and lights fly past as he navigated downtown New Gothenburg until we were on a side street near Bar Row. It took a few minutes to find a spot to park. Again, he was a perfect gentleman as he opened my door, then walked with me toward the Zin, which was a basement bar housed in one of the older, tall brick buildings sprinkled around the area. I snickered when I noticed there was a doggy daycare on the floors above.
“What a bizarro combo,” I murmured and pointed, and he chuckled.
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
Lady Winters: Where are you?
Winter: Celebrating at the Zin. ;)
I didn’t get another message back from Madam Winters, so I assumed she must be happy with her jewelry, and I beamed up at Van.
“Anything important?” he asked with a friendly smile. God, this man was so attentive. I’d had guys date me who couldn’t get through a five-minute conversation without checking their cell phone—then had the audacity to think I would get into bed with them at the end of the night. No, thank you. Rude boys pretending to be men weren’t my speed. This was shaping up to be different. Yes, maybe I was being ridiculous with my work rule.
“Not as important as you, Van. Let’s go.”
He nodded, and we went down the red metal steps. A man in a trench coat swayed more than seemed healthy as he held the door for us. The Zin was doing a good business for a Friday night. The stained white walls were mostly bare except for paintings of literary giants from the past. While searching for an open table I passed F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway, both with manly scowls that didn’t entice me to pick up their books. We had trouble finding a place to sit and ended up at the mirror-topped bar. I grinned down at my reflection, but Van didn’t seem to notice the interesting feature. I didn’t mind that he wasn’t in the mood to discuss the décor, though, since we were served quickly. I hadn’t heard what Van asked the lovely lady in a short red dress to bring us, but my head was swimming as we began to make our way through a bottle of wine before the food he’d ordered made an appearance.
“Thank you for dragging me out into the world.” I rested my hand on his arm.
He flexed his bicep under my palm and leaned closer. “Anything to get you out of that shop,” he replied with a toothy grin. Something about his smile wasn’t quite the same as the other ones he’d been flashing me all night, and I sat back, feeling a bit odd. All at once the noise of the bar—thumping music and laughter and talking—began to overwhelm me.
“Our food never came,” I said, frowning at the busy bartenders rushing around to fill orders. “Do you think they forgot?”
“Maybe.” He glanced up from his glass and his eyebrows shot skyward. “Let me run and go check with the kitchen. You stay here and guard my seat.” He patted my knee and lingered over the touch. His hand climbed my thigh.
“Oh—” I shoved him away and laughed as he got off his stool so fast I could barely keep track of him, then vanished into the crowd of people standing behind us. “What in the world?” I chuckled and lifted my glass again. The red wine was too sweet and flavored with cardamom and cinnamon—perfect for the holidays. The blinking strands of holiday lights strung over the bar seemed fuzzy and too twinkly.
Someone laid a big hand on my shoulder and spun around my stool. I gasped and almost spilled my wine. The man who glared down at me was absolutely massive. I whimpered as I stared up and up and up at him. If his frame was any less than six-foot-five, I would eat this glass instead of the overpriced appetizers—which still hadn’t arrived. The stranger’s gray-infused brown hair was cut shorter than Van’s, and his blue eyes were piercing and serious. His short gray stubble gave him a rugged appearance that had my tongue settling on the roof of my mouth. He tilted his head back to glare down his nose at me and my gaze caught on a terrifying reddish-pink scar along his neck.
