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“Nothing.”
Right. Dane almost always opens the doorsfor us. But these aren’t work hours, are they?She narrowed hergaze, about to press him about it when a piercing shriek echoed offthe asphalt.
“Gia? Oh my God, it’s Gia!”
Oh, hell.Zara turned, smiling out ofhabit, already sliding into the default explanation. Being nearlyidentical twins had led to an entire lifetime of theseinteractions, even before Gia’s modeling and social media wentviral. Zara’s own presence wasn’t invisible, thanks to that and theinevitable society page pics relating to her dating life. “Sorry,wrong twin,” she explained to the gasping teenage fashionistasrushing toward her.
“Crap!” The lead one—a tall redhead—blushedand caught her friend’s arm. “But then, you’re Zara, right? Ifollow you too.”
“I told you Gia posted about that weirdSouthie art installation thing today,” the friend grumbled. But shedidn’t look too disappointed either. She pushed a dreadlock overher shoulder and fidgeted with the phone already in her hand. “Youdated Rylan Buckley, right? God, I love his band. I saw them, like,five times last summer.”
“Yeah, Island is fun for sure,” Zara agreed,apologetically looking at Dane. She didn’t want him to put on hisbodyguard face right now. Nor did she wish to talk about dating thelead singer of Island of Misfit Sex Toys. It was hardly her bestrelationship, and she’d mostly done it as an excuse to follow Rylanon tour.
“They had a pop-up at Burning Man,” Redheadgushed. “Did you get to go?”
“No. I, uh, figured he wouldn’t need his exat a show.” Zara smiled, and the girls laughed. “Not that we’rebitter or anything. I just don’t want to throw him off his game.Especially at a festival. They’re his favorite gigs.”
“That’s, like, super chill of you. Can weget a selfie with you?” Dreadlocks asked.
“Yeah, of course. No problem.” Zara knew sheagreed too readily but didn’t know what else to do. It would end uponline, of course, but she could tell her dad they’d gone to anearby museum or library. Chicago had plenty of history. There hadto be something useful close by.
Redhead didn’t even ask Dane to take it. Shepulled a retractable selfie stick from her purse and set up theshot with the kind of professional ease that made Zara cringe.Igot discovered by an actual influencer? Great.
The girls took their leave with hugs and anexchange of account names, and she even promised to follow theredhead’s. Finally, they retreated into the night, leaving Zarashell-shocked and off-balance as she turned to Dane, who’d kept hisown professional level of discretion through the whole interlude.“I’m, um, I’m so sorry. I never know what to do when that happens.I wish Gia would just, you know, step back on the socialmedia.”
His jaw tensed, a sign that he’d just bittenback a nastier retort about her sister. Instead, he shrugged andheld out his hand for her. She took it gratefully, and he led hertoward the diner. Literally. He walked slightly ahead, not next toher. He kept his shoulders square, back rigid, and his eyes rovednonstop over the interior as they entered.
Can’t turn it off for even a second, canhe? It’s not even a big place!The restaurant was tiny, crammedinto its old storefront, having occupied a couple extra spacesinside over the decades and run up against its maximum space. Danepointed to a table at the far side, well away from the windows andnot too far from the kitchen’s side entrance.Of course, he’sflagged all the doors. Of. Course.
A cheerful waitress bopped over and tooktheir orders, smiling extra hard at Dane. Zara didn’t blameher—Dane was a walking, talking problem. She found herself almostdisappointed he didn’t flirt back. She could have faked somejealousy and started a fight if he’d done that. Maybe he’d spit outwhat he was really snippy about. Unfortunately, he continued beingtall, dark, and polite, so their burgers came, and they ate inrelative silence. Not an unusual state, but far less comfortablethan it had been twenty-four hours earlier. Whatever he was holdingback, he was keeping tight to his chest. And Zara wasn’t sure shewanted to know.
Before she could intervene, he’d signaledfor the check. She offered to pay for her meal, but he eitherignored her on purpose or genuinely didn’t hear.If this is howcommunicative he is on dates, no wonder his girlfriends alwaysbail.Zara kept a pleasant expression, despite her increasinglysulky feelings.
“You ready?” he asked, adjusting the collarof his black jacket, which was way too heavy for the muggy summernight and the diner’s antique AC. She suspected he wore it out ofhabit, to hide a gun. Or three. “There’s somewhere I want to takeyou.”
Zara nodded, wishing the Coke she orderedhad rum in it. Why hadn’t they gone somewhere with a bar? Talkingwould be so much easier after a couple of shots. With a mai tai ortwo, she probably wouldn’t even care if he said something awful, aslong as he kissed her after. Regretting her sobriety, she stood andpicked up her purse. “Does this somewhere serve drinks?”
“No.” His warm hand found the small of herback, with just enough pressure to be reassuring. “But I’ll makethatup to you, too.”
“You’re building up one heck of a tab.” Theretort would’ve sounded more flippant if she hadn’t met his eyesright then and her heart hadn’t slammed against her ribs. Even withthe weird, awkward vibe between them, she still wanted him.Whoever invented pheromones can fuck right off.Sighing, shefollowed him out, bracing for further electricity when he openedthe car door and handed her in. Which was still irritatingly“bodyguard mode” of him, but also made her think way too much aboutdragging him down into the seat with her. So what if he didn’t fit?They’d figure it out.
He stayed quiet as he steered the car out ofthe lot and onto the city streets. Zara turned the music up todrown out her own inquisitive instincts. She’d probably just annoyhim more if she kept asking about their destination.
The sun was already sinking when Dane pulledthe car into a narrow slit of parking spots nestled against a dimlylit wooded area with a dumpster to the right and a relativelywell-kept public restroom to the left. Zara squinted at the sign onthe iron fence.
“A walking trail? Really, Dane?”
“It’s not far.”
“That’s not the point. I’m not wearing theright shoes!”
Dane chuckled. “I could give you a piggybackride.”
Zara glanced theatrically down at her balletflats. “Laugh now, but you might have to actually do that. I’m notwalking barefoot in a random park.”
“You weigh seven pounds. I think I’llsurvive.”
“A hundred and twenty,” she muttered. She’dgained a little once she abandoned ballet for anything beyondworkouts. Dane only rolled his eyes and got out of the car,pocketing the keys as he waited for her. The breeze picked upenough to displace his previously well-combed hair, black strandsfalling in front of his likewise dark eyes. Anybody sane would runlike the wind if Dane “The Butcher” Ryan invited them for a walk inthe woods. She knew that, but her racing heartbeat wasn’t fromfear.
