Page 48 of The Dare

Turning to head back for my laptop, I notice a couple who I can tell have been watching us eat together and then go our separate ways.

They quickly shift their eyes back to their plates and I walk past without thinking much of it.

Until they think I’m out of earshot.

“Disgusting,” one says.

“He must be old enough to be her father,” says the other, clicking their tongue.

A part of me wants to tell them both to go to hell. To mind their own damned business, but the gentleman in me.

The adult in me knows that both Natasha and I will always draw that kind of attention in some people’s eyes.

People who must think age is everything.

I glance back, but only to make sure Natasha’s left the dining car.

I’d hate to have her see or hear people acting like this with her nearby.

As much as it gets my back up, the irritation fades quickly once I set to work on doing what I do best. Finding real estate.

Except for this time I have a very special homeowner in mind.

Someone with long dark hair who is receptive to the idea of family.

She also doesn’t mind an older guy, not one bit.

Within a few minutes, I forget all about the people in the dining car and almost forget I’m on a train at all.

Sipping mineral water and scanning the real estate pages online, I also shoot out a couple of emails to contacts I know.

There’s a short rap at the door, making me look up from my work and the salty steward's face reappears, reminding me yet again just how short I was with him yesterday.

But he starts to explain quickly that he’s come about something else entirely.

Rather, he’s come aboutsomeoneelse that almost surprises me more than anything else on this trip so far.

Chapter Fifteen

Natasha

By the time I make it back to our sleeper, Suze has already packed and rearranged the small space back to how it was when I first saw it yesterday.

Like I never set foot in it.

She always does this when she’s upset.

Cleans and straightens everything up. Makes things anew to the point you’d never know what was there beforehand.

Her way of dealing with emotions, I guess.

I wish I could have the energy to tidy up like she can, but seeing her and the compartment fills me with dread.

She’s taking all this harder than I thought she would.

She’s packed and ready to leave even though we have hours before we reach home.

The things I had on board are neatly stacked by the door. The bulk of my actual luggage was sent home before I left college.