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“You never did say where we’re headed.”

Stepping onto the street, he squeezed her hand.

“I figured we did this all wrong,” he said with a sidelong glance. “A first date in—”

She laughed. “That was hardly a date.”

“Regardless.”

They walked up Main Street, tourists packing every last inch of it. Fall was one of two high seasons in Stone Haven. If she worried about being seen with the visiting playboy of the Derrickson family, it was a bit too late. Already, she’d passed two colleagues, both of whom had watched them with interest.

When he led her down a side street, she realized where they were headed.

“Amendment 18?”

“Does that work for you?”

“Of course.”

She actually loved Stone Haven’s sole speakeasy. A whispered password got them in, through the regular-looking bar downstairs and up to the town’s best-kept secret for locals. Especially on a weekend.

Before buying the bank, Lawrence had actually worked there as a bartender.

“Jazz night,” she said, hearing the music as they climbed the stairs.

“Apparently.”

When they did go inside, the lazy tunes of a live saxophone coupled with a red glow from lamps strategically placed around the room instantly relaxed her. She hadn’t realized how on edge she’d been until now, as Torr ushered her to a table that was, oddly, completely empty. At this time of night, the two-person tables and couches were almost always taken.

When they were seated and personally served—something unusual given that there wasn’t a full waitstaff—she realized why.

“You arranged this?”

His wink was her answer.

“Are you always so slick?”

“Always.”

“Hmmm.” Charlotte didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

“When I said we should start from scratch, I meant it,” he said, ordering a whiskey and some appetizers for the table.

“I’ll have the drink special,” she said, “whatever it is.”

Torr seemed surprised.

“Feeling adventurous?”

“Perhaps,” she said, more coyly than she’d intended.

Torr leaned back in his seat as the band popped on some background music for their break.

“So tell me, Princess of Stone Haven, how exactly is a girl who wears slacks and a blazer to a Noir Nights event the same one who learns about my kind without missing a beat?”

“I am no one’s princess,” she said. “And you know very well that I didn’t intend to end up there, with you, that night. If you’ll remember—”

“Oh,” he said, leaning forward. “I remember quite well. Every detail, in fact.”