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Ice and snow stung Relena’s face as she shuffled toward the familiar bistro, her haven from Brussel’s latest winter storm. Warm, golden lighting and heavenly smells beckoned her across the cobblestone street, which was quickly becoming buried by snow.
Relena clambered toward the entrance, doing her best not to slip and fall in the high-heeled boots she was now thinking twice about purchasing.
The door opened with the soft tinkle of bells. Brushing snowflakes off her wool peacoat, Relena squinted as her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior, scanning the packed dining area for her group of colleagues, her weekly dining companions. Concluding that their meetings must have run over like hers did, she headed for the crowded bar.
She slid onto one of the only available seats, next to an older couple, pulling off her coat and draping it and her work tote over the back of her chair. She caught a few heads swiveling her way but kept her eyes glued to the wall of liquor bottles behind the bar, determined to avoid any unnecessary chitchat.
Or, worse, unwelcome advances from strangers.
The bartender ambled over to her and, his eyes flashing in recognition, set about making her usual order.
Relena smiled gratefully when he slid over her dirty martini. Dry, with an olive, exactly how she liked it.
She closed her eyes and savored that first sip, the way the flavors danced on her tongue. She hadn’t realized until then just how badly she needed a drink. Not that she wanted to make a habit of downing hard liquor on a work night—but, in the moment, this was exactly what she needed.
“Are you alone?”
A low, familiar baritone rumbled behind her, sending an unexpected wave of shivers down her back.
Relena sucked in a breath and spilled a bit of her drink.
“No,” she spat, not bothering to turn around. Instead she grabbed a napkin from the stack in front of her and dabbed at the pool of liquid on the bar before it could spill over onto her lap. The last thing she needed was a telltale stain on her pencil skirt. “I’m waiting for someone,” she added.
A chuckle, followed by the sound of fabric rustling beside her, smooth leather brushing her forearm.
Relena shivered involuntarily and returned her attention to her drink.
“Cold?” he asked unnecessarily.
“What brings you here?” Relena took another sip before throwing a glance in his direction. She kept the look brief, but knew from his smirk that her eyes had already betrayed her.
He just looked so damn handsome in his brown leather jacket, with his auburn hair all disheveled from the snow—or perhaps a quick romp before dinner? Relena knew—knew—he had lovers, although she didn’t know who they were. He was discreet; she’d give him that. But she just knew, instinctively, he was never really alone.
Not like her.
“Just seeking shelter from this miserable storm,” he murmured in that honeyed, musical voice of his. “You?”
“Why didn’t you just go home?” Relena tipped her head as she dodged his question.
He shrugged one shoulder. “Didn’t want to ride my bike in this mess.”
Relena feigned surprise, clasping a hand to her chest. “You? Being cautious? Am I hearing this right?”
He chuckled, the sound of it wrapping around her like a warm blanket. “What can I say? I’m getting older. Less reckless. More—”
“Boring?” Relena supplied, reaching for her martini.
He laughed again and signaled the barkeep.
The other man begrudgingly made his way over. “What’ll it be?” he grunted.
“Wait.” Relena held a hand up before Trowa could speak. “Let me guess.”
She peered at him, looking him fully in the eyes for the first time that night.
He stared right back at her, unblinking.
“Whiskey neat?”
Trowa’s lips twitched. “Sure. Sounds good.”
Relena’s face fell. “Was I even close?”
Trowa shrugged as the bartender poured the amber liquid into a Collins glass. “Close enough.”
She sighed and planted her cheek in her palm. “Do you ever tell anyone anything?”
“Depends.” He edged closer to her, his knees brushing hers under the bar top. “What would you like to know?”
Relena straightened and sat back against her seat. And proceeded to stall.
“Hmm…” She tapped her index finger to her chin. “So many questions.”
But the only one that came to mind, of all things, was How many people have you been with?
No, she was not about to ask him that.
“What are you really doing here?” she asked instead.
He paused to sip his whiskey. “I believe I already answered that.”
“Mm-hmm, you did, but I don’t accept your answer.”
Relena leaned forward, chin in hand, arching a single brow, smirking at him. “I know how you Preventer types operate.”
“Well, as you can see, I’m currently off-duty.” Trowa gestured to his jacket.
“Please. I know better than to fall for that.” Relena rolled her eyes. “Nice try, though.”
Trowa held up both his hands in mock surrender. “I assure you, I’m not here on anyone else’s behalf.”
“Oh, so you’re stalking me for your own amusement?” She gave a playful scoff.
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t call it stalking.”
“Oh? Then what would you call it?” Relena challenged him.
“Having a conversation,” Trowa quipped.
“Funny how we’ve had very few of those over the years, but quite a few more recently,” Relena pointed out.
“Is that right? I hadn’t noticed.” Trowa’s eyes twinkled as he finished his drink, then motioned for another.
The bartender refilled Trowa’s glass wordlessly, then asked Relena, “How about for you, Miss?”
“Oh, no; I’m fine, thank you.” She waved a hand.
“You sure?” Trowa shot a sidelong glance at her. “Aren’t you waiting for someone?”
“Yes, which is why I should probably settle up and go find a table.”
Relena craned her neck to look past her tall—not to mention unnervingly handsome—companion, once again scanning the crowd for her coworkers. But her usual group was nowhere to be found.
“Is it a date?”
She swung her eyes back to Trowa, debating telling him “yes.” But she realized she couldn’t lie to him, even if she wanted to; he was way too astute.
“No,” she admitted, her cheeks heating.
His lips formed a half smile. “Mind if I join you, then? I was planning to grab a bite myself. Might as well wait out the storm.”
Relena sucked in a breath, hesitating. What would her work friends make of that ? She could just imagine them teasing her for dating another Gundam pilot.
Then again, why would they just assume she was dating him?
“Sure.” She shrugged, an attempt at nonchalance. “Why not?”
Trowa’s emerald eyes glittered, and Relena was certain he saw right through her facade. “Great. Let’s get a table, then.”
Relena ended up ordering that second drink, after all. Because her colleagues texted that they had to cancel that night’s get-together due to the snow, leaving Relena all alone with Trowa Barton. Which was slightly awkward. Because in the ten or so years they’d known each other, she could still count how many actual conversations they’d had on one hand.
So once they were ensconced in a dark corner of the restaurant, at a tiny table for two, Relena found herself at a total loss on what to talk about.
Because the last time they were alone together, they hadn’t said much at all.
Relena felt her face heating as vivid memories of that night, just a few months ago, sprang to mind. Once the images took center stage in her brain, it was nigh-on impossible to bat them away. But she was determined to ignore these intrusive thoughts, for the sake of her own dignity.
She dropped her gaze to her drink, doing her best to avoid looking into those gorgeous green eyes of his that were way too shrewd for her liking. Whenever he looked directly at her, Relena had the distinct feeling those eyes were undressing her. And not necessarily in a sexual way; he’d always looked at her like that. Sometimes Trowa was too observant for his own good, Relena decided.
In this case, she felt naked in front of him all over again, knowing her feelings were impossible to hide from his keen senses. Which was beyond frustrating.
“Are you okay?” Trowa asked.
Relena nodded once, not bothering to reply otherwise. And she didn’t dare look up at him, into the death traps that were those eyes.
Nope.
“Are you sure?”
Relena sighed and sat back against her chair, folding her arms over her chest, turning her gaze to the side. “Can we not do this now? Please?”
She could see Trowa frowning in her peripheral. “Do what? Talk?”
“Talk… about this.” She pursed her lips.
He leaned forward in his seat. “About what, exactly?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”
He chuckled. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
She huffed and whipped her head back to look him dead on. “Seriously? How can you act like everything is normal?”
He arched a brow. “And what constitutes ‘normal’ in this scenario? Is there some metric you’re using to determine what can be reasonably categorized as a ‘normal’ state?”
Relena gaped at him. “Don’t get all scientific on me, please.”
“I’d venture this conversation is more philosophical in nature versus scientific.” He cracked a smile. “Unless we’re speaking of the metaphysical. But I gather you were referring to your own personal standard of what you, Relena Darlian Peacecraft, consider to be ‘normal.’ Which, again, brings us back to the philosophical realm.”
He picked up his glass of whiskey—his third, so far—and took a practiced sip.
Relena pressed her fingers into her temples and took in a deep, steadying breath, like she’d learned to do in therapy. “I think I need another drink.”
“You have plenty of time to catch up.” Trowa’s eyes twinkled over his glass.
“Apparently I need to.” Relena sighed and signaled their waiter, and this time ordered a glass of Chardonnay.
Trowa raised a brow but made no comment.
“Are you two ready to order?” the young waiter asked, looking between the pair.
“Ladies first.” Trowa gestured to Relena.
“Um… I’ll have the salmon,” she decided then and there. She hadn’t even bothered looking at the menu, once again defaulting to her usual.
“Steak tips for me,” Trowa said.
The waiter disappeared and Relena laced her hands together, waiting for her third drink.
“You switched,” Trowa noted as soon as they were alone again.
“Hmm?”
“Your drink.”
“Oh. Well, I’d rather have wine with dinner than another cocktail. Also, too many calories,” she explained, then immediately clamped her mouth shut. Why was she even bothering to explain?
Trowa’s eyes were doing that annoying twinkling thing, again.
“Actually, a gin martini is a fairly low-calorie drink. A glass of wine has more.”
“Great,” Relena snapped. “Thanks for telling me.”
He shrugged. “You’re welcome.”
“How did you even know that?” Relena reached for her glass and polished off the remnants of her martini, no longer caring about stupid calories.
“I moonlighted as a bartender, years ago.”
“That explains so much.”
“Yeah? Like what?” Trowa leaned forward again, smirking.
Relena backed up unconsciously. “Like… how you are with people.”
Trowa was looking at her expectantly, so she continued: “Clearly, you prefer observing people over interacting with them.”
“Not true,” he said calmly. “I prefer to think of it as active listening.”
“Hmm, okay.” She tipped her head.
“What?” His eyes were glimmering again.
“Oh, nothing. I’m just pretty certain this is the most I’ve ever heard you speak.” She tried to fight the smile that was tugging at her lips, but was clearly losing the battle.
Trowa picked up his glass. “Liquid courage.”
Relena huffed a laugh. “Oh, please. Like you need it.”
“With you?” His eyes danced. “Absolutely.”
She sucked in a breath. “Why? We’ve known each other forever.”
“That doesn’t make you any less intimidating.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Are you joking? Not even after…?”
She flushed, her words trailing off.
“After…? Oh, right,” Trowa said, as if he were just now remembering. “That.”
“Yeah, that.” Relena sighed and looked around the room for their waiter. She needed her wine already. “How can you be so blasé about it?”
He frowned. “Is that how you think I’m being?”
“Yes, like it’s no big deal to you.” She rolled her eyes and tossed her long hair over one shoulder. “Well, it was a pretty big deal to me, so. Pardon me if I can’t pretend not to care.”
His frown deepened. “Relena… what makes you think I don’t care?”
She gestured vaguely at him. “Just… your usual, general attitude of indifference.”
“Um, okay.” He laughed drily. “Why don’t you say what you really mean?”
Relena’s mouth dropped open. “I—”
Her words were cut off by the waiter arriving with her wine, at last. She took advantage of the interruption to thank the waiter, then took a hearty sip.
“Relena…” Trowa was leaning across the table. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. But I do care. That’s why I’m here.”
“Oh, so you admit you were stalking me, then?” She attempted a laugh.
“No.” His features relaxed. “I didn’t even know you were here. But once I saw you, I thought it would be rude not to at least say hello.”
He shrugged. “I know you said you weren’t interested in dating, and I get that. But I don’t see why we can’t still be friends.”
“It’s not that I’m not interested.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just not in the right place for a relationship right now.”
“I understand,” he said evenly.
“Do you?” She leaned forward. “I didn’t realize you’d ever been in a long-term relationship.”
His eyes sparked. “Define ‘long-term.’”
“Uh-huh.” Her brows waggled. “Just as I suspected.”
“What are you insinuating?”
Relena gave him her best no-nonsense expression. “You’re really going to sit there pretending you don’t know you have a reputation?”
Trowa let out a staccato laugh. “Seriously, what century is this?”
He picked up his glass and drained it, setting it back down with a hard thunk on the table.
Relena blinked. “I’m sorry… have I said something to offend you?”
“No, it’s fine.” He frowned as he spun his glass around with his palm. “I just assumed you knew what you were getting into with me when you decided to… spend time together." His brows knit together. "Like that was, perhaps, part of the appeal.”
“Now what are you insinuating?” Relena challenged, frowning right back at him.
“Nothing, other than you were looking for a good time, and I gave you one. Isn’t that right?”
His emerald eyes were blazing.
Her breath caught. “Trowa. That’s not…”
The waiter arrived at the perfect moment with their respective dinners. Relena thanked him and tucked into her meal, silently praying she and Trowa could move on from their awkward conversation.
Thankfully, he stayed quiet, concentrating on his own meal. But after several minutes of total silence, she was starting to squirm. One of them had to say something. Since, clearly, her taciturn companion wasn’t going to budge, it was going to have to be her.
She heaved a sigh, resigning herself to her fate.
“What is it?” Trowa asked before Relena had a chance to compose her thoughts.
“Ah, nothing. I just… I’m sorry,” she stammered.
He looked up from his plate, frowning slightly.
“Sorry for what?”
“Well, I seem to have offended you.” She bobbed her head. “That wasn’t my intention.”
His lips quirked. “You didn’t offend me. We know each other too well for that.”
Her cheeks heated at the insinuation. Because, yes, they did know each other well—very well.
Which wasn't helping matters.
“Well, you seemed upset.” Relena plowed ahead, determined to keep her thoughts from straying.
Trowa gave a shrug. “I wasn’t. I knew you didn’t mean anything by it.”
“All right. Good.”
Silence stretched yet again as they both returned their attention to their respective plates.
And once again, after several uncomfortable minutes, Relena sent her fork down and sighed.
“Trowa.”
His eyes snapped to hers. “Hmm?”
His usual blank expression belied the intensity of his gaze.
Relena flushed and picked up her phone. “I… just remembered I have somewhere to be.”
He gaped at her. “In a blizzard?”
She launched to her feet and gathered up her things, pausing to set a wad of bills on the table—
Which Trowa immediately handed back to her, shaking his head.
“I’ve got this.”
“Oh, no, I insist.”
Relena pressed the bills back into his hand, so much bigger than her own. As their fingers brushed together, she yanked her hand back, dropping it to her side.
If Trowa felt any apprehension from the awkward exchange, he certainly didn’t show it, maintaining his usual calm.
“Well, it was nice to see you," she said. "Have a good night.”
“Wait.” Trowa pushed up from his chair. “Let me take you home.”
Relena flapped a hand. “Oh, I’m not going home. I booked myself a room for the night.”
Lie.
He frowned. “All right. Then I’ll walk you to your car.”
“No need, my driver is already waiting.”
Another lie. She hadn’t used a driver in years.
Trowa nodded, and once again Relena had the sense that he could see right through her.
“All right, then," he murmured. "Have a good night.”
Despite his curt dismissal, Trowa maintained pointed eye contact with Relena until she whirled around and bolted for the ladies' room.
Where she was going to hide, until she was able to book herself a hotel room, and a taxi there.
To her dismay, several minutes of searching yielded the same result, over and over: everything was booked solid.
That left her two options: sleep in her office, or see if she could stay at a friend’s place in the city.
Her mind whirred, trying to think of someone who wouldn’t mind the last minute imposition. Annoyingly, she could only think of the man she’d just ditched mere moments ago.
She had work friends, sure, but she wasn’t close enough to any of them to ask for such a favor. Striking her ESUN colleagues from the list, that left her Preventer friends. And the only ones she could call upon in the moment were coupled up.
Except for…
Relena trudged out of the restroom, dreading having to accept defeat. If only she could mimic Trowa’s nonchalance.
She started back toward the dining room, only to find the object of her thoughts leaning up against the wall that divided the two sections of the restaurant. His arms were folded over his leather jacket, and he was looking at her expectantly.
She sighed. “Trowa…”
“Are you coming home with me or not?”
Her eyes bulged. “What do you mean? I told you, I got a room.”
She planted her hands at her hips and glared up at him.
“I know.” Trowa peeled himself away from the wall and strode over to her, stopping mere inches in front of her.
“But I figured you’d rather not be alone. And why waste the money on a room when my place is so close by,” he added matter-of-factly.
“I don’t mind spending the money,” she protested.
“I have wine.”
She arched a brow. “If I keep drinking at this hour, I won’t sleep.”
“Hot chocolate, then.” His eyes twinkled. “I also have ice cream.”
“Trowa Barton,” she scolded, wagging her pointer finger at him. “Are you trying to seduce me or give me cavities?”
He huffed a laugh. “Neither, although the former is far more appealing than the latter.”
He shrugged and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, the very picture of casual indifference.
“I was just trying to help a friend. If you do need a place to stay, that is…” He tilted his head as he regarded her.
She bit her lower lip. “The truth is, I wasn’t able to find a hotel room. Everything is booked.”
“Not surprising.” He pivoted and strode toward the exit. “Coming?”
Relena sucked in a shaky breath, her heart fluttering at the sight of his muscled backside.
“I hope so,” she murmured, in spite of her nerves. When had she become so brazen, anyway?
Maybe… It all started on the night she finally decided to throw caution to the wind, and take Trowa up on his offer to take a ride on his motorcycle after work.
And then one fun thing led to another fun thing… and another…
Trowa threw a heartstopping look over his shoulder. “Relena?”
She bit back the smile that threatened to overwhelm her face.
“I said I’m coming.”
She tipped her chin up, doing her best to look coy.
He clearly caught her meaning, his eyes gleaming.
“Sounds like I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
She gave in to her smile. “Yes, you do. You owe me hot chocolate.”
“We’d better get going, then.” He smiled, too, and offered her his arm. “Ready?”
Relena nodded, realizing in her heart that, yes, she finally was.
She took his arm.
But when they reached the door, he turned his hand over beneath hers—an unspoken question.
She answered by threading her fingers through his.
The storm howled outside.
Inside, something finally settled.