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“Really? What have you been doing with your life?”

“Not gaming.”

“Apparently.” I chuckled, then sobered as I elaborated. “I… lost my father in an accident when I was eighteen. Gaming became my escape from the real world. It was how I coped.”

I drained my cocoa and shoved those tainted memories and the mug aside. “I’ve played all kinds of games since then. Followed the online crowd. After moving here, I met a few local guys who played, and we clicked. Our recent addiction, outside of DnD, is Immortal Rising.”

Mordecai’s gaze alighted on me. “You spoke of it the other night. Of hunting creatures. Of castles. It’s a video game?”

“Of course it is. Why do you sound so shocked?” I grinned, caught up in the Bordeaux color of his eyes. “What did you think I was talking about?”

He shook his head, his shoulders loosened as he sat back. “I didn’t know for sure.”

Under the bright café lights, I couldn’t help drinking in all the details of Mordecai. I’d assumed the reddish tone in his eyes was a trick of moonlight or shadows, that they were a shade of brown, but I was wrong. I’d never met anyone with eyes so compelling and unique.

With his alabaster skin and blond hair, I wondered if Mordecai had slight albinism. I didn’t know how genes and DNA worked. Could a person have partial albinism, or was it an all-or-nothing condition? I had to assume it was possible. Although Mordecai seemed to lack melanin in his skin and hair, the shock of color to his lips was so vibrant that the contrast was eye-catching.

“You should join us Wednesday. I could introduce you to my friends. Teach you to play.”

“For DnD?”

“Yes. If you’re not busy. Do you have work lined up? I don’t even know what you do for a living.”

Somehow, the conversation kept getting diverted back to me. I’d learned little about the gorgeous man across from me.

Again, Mordecai seemed instantly awkward, his gaze cutting to his untouched drink, lips drawing into a tight line. I doubted there was much heat left in his cocoa, but he clung to the mug like it was a lifeline.

“I… don’t presently work. My family is… quite wealthy. Work usually surrounds personal business. I suppose my current agenda would be considered… work.”

My brows crept up, and not at the vague descriptor of his current agenda. What did quite wealthy mean? Who was this guy? Why a crumbling mansion in Owen Sound if money wasn’t a factor? I had more questions but had the distinct feeling that answers wouldn’t be forthcoming.

“Does that mean you’re free Wednesday evening?”

“I suppose I am.”

“Excellent.”

We shared a smile that warmed my insides. Mordecai’s rigidity and uncertainty remained, but I chalked it up to the typical adjustment period anyone experienced when moving to a new city or country where they didn’t know anyone.

Mordecai never drank his cocoa. We left the café, and I drove him home, maneuvering the winding gravel drive with caution. He’d left no lights on in the mansion, and the approach through the dense trees recalled the previous Friday evening and my initial encounter with Mordecai.

The daunting mansion in such severe disrepair, coupled with a decade’s worth of rumors, had left me uneasy and jumpy on that first night. Mordecai had caught me off-guard, appearing out of nowhere. No car. No luggage. Like he’d emerged out of thin air.

I never figured out how he got to the mansion. Perhaps a taxi had dropped him off by the road?

“Do you own a car?”

“No. I don’t drive.”

“You’re awfully far in the country for that.”

“There are plenty of delivery services. I’ll make it work.”

I didn’t push.

I stopped at the end of the driveway, near the crumbling fountain. The Jeep’s headlights caught on the disfigured cherubic angel with its missing arm. The mansion was no less eerie than the first time, with its yawning dark windows and deteriorating stone. The creeper vines squeezed out what little life remained.

“What time is your DnD?” Mordecai asked.