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“He was. But I suppose the warning signs have always been there too. I just didn’t want to see them.”

Lawrence never took his eyes off her. She’d never met anyone so attentive, as if her rather pedestrian story was the most important thing he’d ever heard.

Something just occurred to her. “Who is the wine for?” Lawrence was more of a beer drinker.

“I bought it to leave here in the room.”

“I forgot, you did mention your visitor. Makes sense. I never took you for a wine guy.”

As if to prove her wrong, he took a sip and then leaned forward, putting both elbows on his knees.

“I drink it occasionally.” Lawrence cocked his head to the side. “People are very rarely just one thing. I’m a beer drinker who can appreciate an occasional wine. Tyler is a creep who has the capacity to do good things.”

“Adding your voice to the chorus of Tyler haters then?”

“Wholeheartedly.”

And then he smiled, and she was done for.

“You deserve better,” he said more seriously.

“In boyfriends or life?”

“Both.” As before, his green eyes held her gaze without blinking, but she refused to squirm under his scrutiny. She refused to look away.

“Enough about me. What are your plans for the future, Lawrence Derrickson?” Her attempt at keeping her tone light failed miserably, but he had the good grace to pretend not to notice. He was a vampire, after all, so eventually Stone Haven would no longer be his home. In the near, or far, future. Either way, the question was not a simple one for him or his kind.

He swept his hand toward the room, bringing her attention to the king-size bed that sat smack-dab in the center of it, as if she hadn’t already thought about it a million times.

“Robert Davis. With any luck, he’ll still be coming tomorrow.”

She had to think about the name for a moment to figure out why it sounded so familiar. “The real estate mogul? He’s the one you rented the room for?”

Lawrence nodded.

“Why?”

From what she could remember, the guy was a real prick. Her uncle despised the man, a real estate mogul who cared little for his community and solely for his pocketbook.

“I mean to buy the old Penn Community Bank. He says it’s not for sale, but he’ll change his mind.”

Because Lawrence was as rich as Croesus. For him, anything was for sale.

“Why?’

He didn’t strike her as the banker type. Grabbing the wine bottle from the table between them, he reached over to fill the glass she hadn’t even realized was empty before topping off his own.

“To turn it into a bar.”

Toni realized two things simultaneously. First, he was apparently here to stay. Surprising given his quest to protect the Cheld. Alessandra had told her how important it was to him, that he saw their protection as his duty as the former clan chief. And Lawrence himself had told her that he still felt guilty for his brother’s death, something that had happened several human lifetimes ago. So it was surprising he had not gone after the new Cheld with Laria—even more so, it seemed that would now be the norm.

The second realization?

After all this time, he still sought a purpose for his life.

Even though he had all the resources he could possibly need, Lawrence sought to open a bar. If not for the money, then it must be for a sense of accomplishment. Something she could understand, even if she still wasn’t sure what she wanted to accomplish. Her parents had encouraged her to be a doctor, and she’d let them think she was following in their footsteps, but the medical field had never interested her. Neither had any other field, really.

And that was why she’d ended up in two dead-end jobs, biding her time for . . . something.