KIERAN
THREE
The moment the word left my mouth, I wondered if I'd completely lost my mind.
It had sounded confident enough at the time. Now, as Thane stood and reached for his coat, I found myself revisiting the wisdom of that decision.
The bill had already been paid, and I was at least ninety percent sure I'd agreed to leave the bar with a man I barely knew. A very attractive man with broad shoulders, nice hands, and a smile capable of lowering my IQ by several points.
Still a stranger. My common sense would like that fact entered into the record.
Thane waited while I shrugged into my jacket. When we reached the front door, he held it open and gestured for me to go first. The air carried the sharp bite of winter, and my breath appeared in soft white clouds every time I exhaled.
Inside the bar, conversation had come easily. There had always been another question to ask, another story to tell, another joke waiting around the corner. Out on the sidewalk, there was nothing to distract me from the fact that I had just agreed to leave with a stranger.
Well. Mostly a stranger.
As we started walking, my hand slipped into my jacket pocket and brushed against the small canister of pepper spray attached to my keychain. Every instinct I possessed told me Thane was safe. Unfortunately, instinct wasn't always reliable. Ted Bundy had seemed safe, too.
The thought almost made me laugh.
Imagine explaining this to the police: Yes, Officer. I met a stranger at a bar and decided to leave with him. In my defense, he was very handsome and bought me a burger and fries.
The logic wasn't exactly airtight.
"You okay?" Thane's voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Yeah." The answer came a little too quickly.
One dark eyebrow lifted.
I sighed. "Ask me again in ten minutes."
To my relief, he chuckled. "Fair enough."
The sound eased some of the tension knotting my shoulders. Maybe I was being reckless. Maybe this was a terrible idea. Or maybe, for the first time in a very long time, something good was happening without me having to fight for it.
I wasn't ready to trust that feeling yet. But I wasn't ready to walk away from it either.
We continued down the sidewalk at an easy pace. The streets were still busy enough to feel alive, though the crowds had thinned considerably since earlier in the evening. Most people seemed to be heading home, carrying shopping bags or hurrying toward waiting cars.
Thane had his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. He wasn't crowding my space or steering me in any particular direction. If anything, he seemed content to let me set the pace.
That helped.
"So," I said, breaking the silence, "where exactly are we going?" The question came out calmer than I felt.
Thane looked over at me. "My hotel. It’s just a few blocks away." He unbuttoned his coat. "Here, you’re shivering." His ridiculous blue eyes caught the streetlights.
"I'm fine."
But I let him help me into it anyway, the fabric swallowing my frame. His coat smelled like vanilla and some kind of rare wood because I couldn’t figure out the smell.
"Thanks," I said quietly.
A few steps passed before he spoke again. "Or, if you want, I can call you a cab."
I turned my head. "What?"
"If you've changed your mind, that's okay." His voice remained easy and matter-of-fact. "I don't want you doing anything you're uncomfortable with."
The offer caught me off guard. There was no frustration in his expression. No sign that he'd feel cheated or annoyed if I decided to leave. He was simply giving me an out.
I looked ahead again as we reached the corner and waited for the light to change.
The sensible thing would be to thank him for a surprisingly good birthday, go back to my apartment, and spend the rest of the night convincing myself I hadn't missed an opportunity.
I couldn't remember the last time meeting someone new had felt that effortless.
The attraction was part of it, obviously. I wasn't blind. Thane was ridiculously good-looking, and I would have needed a serious head injury not to notice.
That wasn't the reason I kept walking.
The reason I kept walking was that I wasn't ready for the evening to end.
"No," I said finally. "I think I'm good."
A faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "You think?"
"I reserve the right to panic later."
His laugh warmed the cold night air between us. "Fair enough."
The light changed, and we stepped off the curb together. I still didn't know where the night would lead.
What I did know was that I wanted a little more time.
As we crossed another intersection, a burst of laughter spilled out from a crowded sports bar on the corner. Several televisions hung above the bar inside, their bright screens visible through the front windows. I barely glanced in that direction before looking away again.
Thane did not.
His attention flicked toward the televisions, lingered for a second, and then returned to the sidewalk ahead of us.
I frowned slightly.
"You okay?"
His gaze shifted toward me.
"Yeah. Why?"
I shrugged. "You looked distracted for a second."
Something unreadable passed across his face before it disappeared. "Just thinking."
We had barely gone another block when a man approaching from the opposite direction slowed. He glanced at Thane, looked away, and then did a double-take before continuing on. Whatever recognition had sparked in his expression, he kept it to himself.
The entire exchange lasted only a few seconds. Still, it left me with the distinct impression that there was more to Thane than he was telling me. Before I could decide whether to ask about it, he nodded toward a building across the street.
"We're here."
I came to an immediate stop and followed his gaze.
The hotel rose several stories into the night sky, its entrance framed by elegant white lights and enormous decorated trees that probably cost more than my first car would someday be worth.
A uniformed doorman stood near the revolving doors, and through the glass I could see polished marble floors gleaming beneath crystal chandeliers.
I was pretty sure you could fit half my apartment building inside that lobby and still have room left over for the Christmas tree. Not a single light bulb was burned out. That alone made the place feel expensive.
Suddenly, "I play hockey" felt like a very incomplete answer.