than twenty-four hours. You have already spent more money on me than I would have made in a month at the museum. Yet you expect me to just be okay with all of this?”
“I suppose you are right,” he said with a sigh. “This sort of situation is very new to me. I haven’t a clue how to court a woman.”
“And there’s that, too.” Lily dropped the menu to the table. “You’re proper and refined…almost like you’re an artifact in one of your cases. And your language borders on archaic.” She took a sip from the water glass to steady her nerves, and cleared her throat. “How old are you, anyway?”
Naturally, the waiter chose that moment to appear and demand an order. Lily hadn’t even given the menu more than a cursory glance, and Rowan was ready with his order before the kid had his pen poised. She glanced down, and hoping she’d read it right, ordered a club sandwich. The skinny kid looked down his nose at her, but said nothing as he snatched her menu from her hand and skulked away toward the kitchen.
“So?” Lily prodded when they lapsed into silence. Rowan sighed.
“I do wish you had not asked that.”
“So you are older than you look.”
He hesitated a moment, eyeing her with a careful mask in place. “Considerably.”
She swallowed the sick feeling and leveled him with her gaze. “How old?” He glanced around, looking at the empty tables surrounding them and leaned across the table. Lily didn’t like that… Nothing good ever came from a man leaning over a table to whisper something to a woman.
“I was born in the winter of 1368, in a small town just outside of Vienna.” The accent was Austrian. That answered one question, but left her with ten more, all bubbling up at the same time.
“You’re telling me you’re almost six-hundred fifty years old years old?” The rational part of her brain flat-lined as the absurdity of the statement overpowered her good sense. “You actually expect me to believe that?”
“Honestly, no. I expect you to believe nothing at this point, except that you are special to me.”
“Why?”
“I wish I had an answer for you.”
Their food arrived and they ate in silence, Lily picking at her food rather than devouring it as she had originally planned. Something about finding out her lover-slash-personal monster was nearly seven hundred years old had killed her appetite.
He paid the bill and led her back to the car, still without speaking. Once they were back in the relative confinement of the car, Lily turned to him.
“Where are we going now?”
“To check on your car,” he said. “It was supposed to be ready an hour ago.” She looked at the dash-clock, surprised to find she’d lost almost a whole day in his company.
“Oh, right,” she said. “I guess I should be getting home.” A glimmer of sadness tumbled through her mind. If it weren’t for such a horrible secret, he’d be the perfect man.
The little office was dingy, as most auto shops were, and very stuffy. Rowan’s massive frame took up much of the little room, and Lily leaned against the windows to escape his orbit. His large hand crashed down on the bell on the counter, and the sound echoed off the walls. A window facing the garage slid open, and a grease-covered mechanic stuck his head through.
“Rowan,” the grease-monkey cheered, “good to see you! Listen, man, I’m sorry, but that car ain’t ready.” Lily’s heart did a backflip. She was stuck. Again. “Had to order a pump, sensor, and a coupl’a valves. Should be ready tomorrow afternoon.” She collapsed into the single office chair with a heavy sigh and cradled her head in her hands. The gods seemed to be working against her. She wanted to escape this hell, yet was still forced to rely on Rowan’s generosity and hope it wasn’t a mistake. It didn’t help that her heart told her one thing while her mind screamed something else.
“I am sorry, Lily,” he said, and knelt in front of her. He was so warm that
“I suppose you are right,” he said with a sigh. “This sort of situation is very new to me. I haven’t a clue how to court a woman.”
“And there’s that, too.” Lily dropped the menu to the table. “You’re proper and refined…almost like you’re an artifact in one of your cases. And your language borders on archaic.” She took a sip from the water glass to steady her nerves, and cleared her throat. “How old are you, anyway?”
Naturally, the waiter chose that moment to appear and demand an order. Lily hadn’t even given the menu more than a cursory glance, and Rowan was ready with his order before the kid had his pen poised. She glanced down, and hoping she’d read it right, ordered a club sandwich. The skinny kid looked down his nose at her, but said nothing as he snatched her menu from her hand and skulked away toward the kitchen.
“So?” Lily prodded when they lapsed into silence. Rowan sighed.
“I do wish you had not asked that.”
“So you are older than you look.”
He hesitated a moment, eyeing her with a careful mask in place. “Considerably.”
She swallowed the sick feeling and leveled him with her gaze. “How old?” He glanced around, looking at the empty tables surrounding them and leaned across the table. Lily didn’t like that… Nothing good ever came from a man leaning over a table to whisper something to a woman.
“I was born in the winter of 1368, in a small town just outside of Vienna.” The accent was Austrian. That answered one question, but left her with ten more, all bubbling up at the same time.
“You’re telling me you’re almost six-hundred fifty years old years old?” The rational part of her brain flat-lined as the absurdity of the statement overpowered her good sense. “You actually expect me to believe that?”
“Honestly, no. I expect you to believe nothing at this point, except that you are special to me.”
“Why?”
“I wish I had an answer for you.”
Their food arrived and they ate in silence, Lily picking at her food rather than devouring it as she had originally planned. Something about finding out her lover-slash-personal monster was nearly seven hundred years old had killed her appetite.
He paid the bill and led her back to the car, still without speaking. Once they were back in the relative confinement of the car, Lily turned to him.
“Where are we going now?”
“To check on your car,” he said. “It was supposed to be ready an hour ago.” She looked at the dash-clock, surprised to find she’d lost almost a whole day in his company.
“Oh, right,” she said. “I guess I should be getting home.” A glimmer of sadness tumbled through her mind. If it weren’t for such a horrible secret, he’d be the perfect man.
The little office was dingy, as most auto shops were, and very stuffy. Rowan’s massive frame took up much of the little room, and Lily leaned against the windows to escape his orbit. His large hand crashed down on the bell on the counter, and the sound echoed off the walls. A window facing the garage slid open, and a grease-covered mechanic stuck his head through.
“Rowan,” the grease-monkey cheered, “good to see you! Listen, man, I’m sorry, but that car ain’t ready.” Lily’s heart did a backflip. She was stuck. Again. “Had to order a pump, sensor, and a coupl’a valves. Should be ready tomorrow afternoon.” She collapsed into the single office chair with a heavy sigh and cradled her head in her hands. The gods seemed to be working against her. She wanted to escape this hell, yet was still forced to rely on Rowan’s generosity and hope it wasn’t a mistake. It didn’t help that her heart told her one thing while her mind screamed something else.
“I am sorry, Lily,” he said, and knelt in front of her. He was so warm that
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