I have no idea what possesses me to confide in him but in a very soft voice, I add, “My dad was my only family. My best friend.”
We pause outside of the quaint-looking restaurant, and I turn my head, looking away as tears threaten. Even after all this time, I can’t help but feel their burn when I think of the wonderful man my father was, how much he loved me and how I lost him too early. There’s always that tiny part of me that wonders what he would think of my current lifestyle and who I’ve become. I don’t think he’d judge me too harshly for doing what I had to do early on. But now? I’m not so sure. And the idea of disappointing him is part of the sting in my eyes.
“Was?” Ryder echoes.
I sniffle, silently berating myself for getting emotional in front of him. Emotions make you easier to manipulate, and I really need to keep the upper hand here. But it’s either sniff or let snot run down my face, and I’m already embarrassed enough.
When I don’t say anything, he reaches out and gently turns my face back toward him. Maybe I’m imagining it, but genuine empathy seems to fill his dark brown eyes.
“I’m sorry, Bella,” he murmurs.
Delaney,I want to say.Please, call me by my real name.
But I don’t dare. Instead, I simply lean into his touch, quite aware that Ryder is the first person since I became Bella who I’ve wanted to call me by my given name. I can’t allow anyone to get that close, though. At the same time, it’s been so long since someone comforted me. Touched me. And, God, it feels good. “He passed away six years ago,” I reveal. “But I miss him every day.”
“And your mom?” His thumb brushes light, feathery strokes along my jaw.
“I never knew her. She died during childbirth.”
“I’m sure she was just as lovely as you.”
When his thumb moves to slide over my lower lip, my gaze jerks up and my mouth opens. I’m breathing harder, and I don’t know if it’s from the elevation and being in the mountains or his touch.
Oh, hell, you live in the Mile High City. Denver is situated at a higher elevation than here.
Okay, so my reaction has everything to do with the man standing in front of me. The way he’s looking at me so intently. And I’m very close to falling into the espresso depths of his eyes.
Too dangerous.
I take a wobbly step back, breaking the connection.
Being vulnerable never looked good on me. But Ryder doesn’t push. He merely takes my hand in his much larger one and guides me into the restaurant. Something strangely comfortable passes between us. If I was a mere bystander who didn’t know better, I’d say we were on a date. Warninglights go off in my head, but I decide to ignore them. At least, for the next couple of hours. My only goal right now is to relax and enjoy Ryder’s company.
I’ve been wound so tight lately, taking one job after another. Even if we are here, planning the biggest heist of my career, I deserve a night off. An evening to unwind with a glass of wine and an entertaining companion. God knows, I’ve earned it.
A server takes us to a corner table beside the fireplace where it’s a little more private. The moment Ryder releases my hand, I miss its warm and reassuring strength. Sitting down, I distract myself from the loss by checking out the decor and the low fire crackling in the hearth.
“Do you trust me to order for us?” Ryder asks.
In my line of work, I’ve become a control freak. It’s no surprise. Thieving is dangerous work, and I refuse to put my safety into just anyone’s hands. Especially with so much competition and the way everyone is out for himself. I suppose it’s trickled over into my personal life, too. I rely on myself. No one else.
Despite my inability to hand over control easily, I nod. I mean, it’s only dinner. Not exactly a life-or-death situation, and I know the man has good taste. He orders a fancy-sounding bottle of wine and, of course, Wiener schnitzel.
“Okay, so tell me what I’m about to eat. It’s like a hotdog, right?”
He laughs. “No, you’re thinking of the fast-food place in the States. True Wiener schnitzel is an Austrian national dish. It’s traditionally made with veal and coated in a crisp breadcrumb crust, served with lemon and butterhead lettuce. Oh, and a side of the best potato salad you’ll ever have.”
The server returns, opens the bottle of red wine and pours each of us a glass. Ryder picks his glass up, expertly swirls it around then sniffs it.
“Are you a wine connoisseur?” He seems so cultured, so in-the-know about all high-end things. I may like luxurious items and have the ability to surround myself with them now, but I don’t have nearly the experience he has. I grew up playing in the dirt on digs, not eating in fancy restaurants or attending expensive European boarding schools. Ryder McKay is the real deal—Old Money.
“I wouldn’t say I’m an expert, but I do enjoy a good wine.” He takes a sip and gives a little groan. “Exquisite.”
My stomach somersaults at the sexy sound, and I quickly take a drink. It’s absolutely delicious—the wine and his groan. Pressing my lips together, I’m suddenly at a loss for words. I also realize I’m sitting ramrod straight like there’s a pole up my ass.Fuck. Am I nervous? It’s been so long since I’ve been out with a man, and I need to remind myself this isn’t really a date. Ryder is simply my partner in crime. Nothing more.
“Bella…” He reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze. “What’s wrong? You don’t like the wine? I can get you something else.”
“No.” I pull my hand away and force a smile. “It’s very good. Sorry, my mind is on the castle. I’m hoping we didn’t come all this way for nothing.” A little white lie. Sort of. The truth is, this man has my insides spinning, and my stomach feels like it’s in a washing machine.
