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His gaze drops to the box.

“You baked?”

I nod. His eyes return to mine.

“For me?”

I nod again.

A slow smile pulls at his mouth.

Oh, that's unfair.

“She's got you trained already,” Owen mutters.

“Shut up,” Damian replies without even looking at him.

The Sheriff grins.

Damian slides out of the booth.

“Let's go somewhere and talk.”

“Okay.”

He takes the box from me with one hand. His other closes around my forearm.

The contact sends those strange golden sparks dancing across my skin.

Damian freezes. So do I.

His thumb moves once.

Barely a stroke.

But my pulse jumps beneath it.

His eyes darken.

“Damian?”

“Outside.”

Definitely a growl. He leads me toward the door.

Behind us, Owen calls, “Nice meeting you, Belinda.”

“You too!”

“Make good choices, Leeds.”

Damian flips him off without turning around.

I laugh.

He doesn't.

And I’m not really sure what that means.