His pale features are more Nordic in nature, making me wonder if he’s a lonely traveler just seeking out some company while venturing around Romania… or if he’s a local who enjoys picking up solo women.
Regardless, I’m curious.
Even though I shouldn’t be. I should be eating and sleeping. Maybe showering, too.
Yet I decide to indulge this unexpected occurrence and arch a brow. “Will you be joining me for dessert?”
“Depends on what you order,” he murmurs, his intense blue eyes dancing over my features. “What’s your favorite fruit?”
I shrug. “I like anything sweet.”
“And how do you feel about cream?” he asks, making me wonder if that’s supposed to be an innuendo for something else.
“Depends on how it’s served,” I reply, still channeling my inner Gaby.
“Hmm,” he hums, glancing away from me for a moment before focusing on me once more. “Do you like cake or pie?”
“Again, I like anything sweet,” I tell him. “I’m really not picky.”
He nods. “Then any dessert I suggest will suit you.”
“Most likely, yes,” I admit.
He folds his arms on the tabletop, drawing my gaze to his muscular form. He’s wearing a knitted sweater, the fabric not tight, yet revealing his strength at the same time.
“What brings you to Romania?” he inquires, changing the topic. “Business or pleasure?”
“Both, I guess.” I fidget a little in my chair, suddenly feeling a bit exposed. I don’t like talking about myself. Dessert preferences are one thing. My studies are… quite another. “I’m here for research.”
“Oh?” He leans forward, intrigue written across his features. “What are you researching?”
“Mythology.” It’s a vague response, but explaining my doctoral thesis would take hours.
“Mythology,” he repeats, like he’s tasting the word. “From medieval times?”
“Something like that,” I say, not wanting to elaborate. “Why are you here?”
He smiles, his dimples appearing again. “I’m a tour guide.”
My brows lift. “A tour guide?” I suppose that explains his perfect English. I mean, there’s an accent, but he’s clearly fluent.
He dips his chin. “Guilty as charged.” He scrutinizes me for a moment. “Do you have any tours planned?”
I stare at him, understanding finally breaking through my mind.
This guy isn’t hitting on me or flirting with me. He’s trying to woo me into hiring him for a tour. I almost laugh out loud at the realization, but I’m too exhausted to put forth the effort.
Instead, I just shake my head and tell him the truth. “The castle I want to visit doesn’t have a tour available.”
He leans forward even more, his interest palpable. “Which castle do you want to visit?”
I don’t bother lying to him. “Negru Castle.”
His blue eyes widen. “You really have done your research, haven’t you?” He glances around, then lowers his voice as he says, “What if I told you I could take you there?”
My lips twitch. “Then I would know you’re trying to make me pay for something you can’t deliver on.”
He leans back a bit, evaluating me once more. “What if I promised to take you and accepted payment after?”
