Page 217 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

His mouth softened. “I was hoping to expand.”

“Diversification is important.”

He set the wine list down. The corner of his mouth moved, and every sensible thought in my head took a respectful step backward.

That was still happening. Apparently sex, declarations of feelings, attempted magical theft, meeting his parents, and having his mother call me his sunshine girl had not made my nervous system any less embarrassing around him. If anything, knowing him better had made it worse. Attraction was one thing when a man was beautiful and unavailable. It was another when he had made ginger tea in my chipped blue mug, warmed my arms with dragon heat, kissed my dog on the head, and told me he wanted to build his life to fit mine.

A person couldn’t be expected to withstand that level of targeted competence.

The restaurant was tucked on the second floor of an old building with tall windows overlooking a tree-lined street. A trio played near the back: piano, upright bass, and a woman with a honeyed voice singing old songs softly enough that conversation could still survive.

Rafe had chosen it because of the music, because I had liked dancing at the gala, and I was glad my outfit allowed for dancing.

I was wearing a midnight-blue dress Octavia had altered for me. It was simple, but had embroidered stars along the sleeves. She’d told me it was “romantic without begging for attention,” then looked me up and down and added, “Unlike you, apparently, when that dragon walks into a room.”

I had refused to dignify that with a response—mostly because she was right.

Rafe wore a dark suit, no tie, and kept his eyes on my face with suspicious discipline after noticing the neckline of my dress.

I appreciated the effort.

I appreciated the failure more.

Dinner was almost shockingly normal. We talked about Max, who was spending the evening with Avery and helping evaluate a young Malinois who had “the emotional range of a thrown chair.” We talked about Rafe’s mother, and I grinned when he said she had asked after “the sunshine girl and the stately dog” three times since I’d left the estate.

“She remembers me?” I asked, trying and failing to sound casual.

“Sometimes clearly. Sometimes not exactly.” Rafe’s thumb moved once along the stem of his glass. “But she remembers how you made her feel.”

“That may be the loveliest thing anyone’s ever said about me.”

“It’s also true.”

The music changed into a slower number.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked.

I glanced toward the small space near the musicians where one older couple was already moving together, close and unhurried.

“In public?” I asked.

“We’ve danced in public before.”

“We danced at a gala after attempting to recover a stolen sword from a museum director whose wife used an ancient Greek safe word. Context matters.”

He flashed me that devastating smile as he stood and offered me his hand.

The first time I had convinced Rafe to dance, it had felt like stepping into a fantasy I had no business touching. The gala lights, the music from his mother’s old memories, Max trotting beside us like a deeply dignified chaperone. I had been enchanted and terrified and pretending very hard that my heart wasn’t making decisions without committee approval.

This time, there was no mission. No professional boundary pressed between us like glass.

There was only Rafe’s hand around mine and his other hand settling at my back, warm through the thin fabric of my dress. There was his face closer than it used to be, no longer guarded from me in quite the same way. There was the soft scrape of his thumb against my knuckles and the way he watched me as if ordinary pleasure deserved his full attention.

“You’re better at this when you’re not pretending you hate fun,” I said.

“I never pretended.”

The music carried us. He turned me slowly, easily, and I let myself follow because it didn’t feel like giving up control anymore.