Page 40 of Tracking Shadows

She raises an eyebrow. "Gossip? Really?"

"Why not?" I shrug. "I heard the neighbor down the street might be in a secret relationship with his mail carrier. Scandalous, right?"

Irina snorts, shaking her head. "You’re an idiot."

"True," I say, smiling wider now that I’ve managed to get some kind of reaction from her. "But I’m a charming idiot."

She gives me a look that says she’s not buying it, but there’s a little more light in her eyes now. "Charming? That’s debatable."

"Hey," I say, pretending to be offended. "I’ve been told I have a certain roguish charm."

"By who?" She takes a bite of her food. "Yourself?"

"Well, yeah. Self-love is important, Irina." I make a show of puffing up my chest.

This time, she actually laughs, and I freeze for a second. Her laugh is rare, and when it comes out, it’s like the room gets brighter. It’s not something I get to hear often.

"You should do that more often," I say softly, still smiling.

"Do what?"

"Laugh." I lean forward a bit. "You don’t do it nearly enough."

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. "There’s not much to laugh about these days."

"True," I admit, "but that’s why it’s important. You’ve got a killer laugh, Irina. It’d be a shame to waste it."

Her face softens a little, and for a moment, there’s something vulnerable in her eyes. She doesn’t say anything, just looks at me, then she shakes her head and goes back to her food.

"Stop trying to flirt with me."

"Who says I’m flirting?" I say. “I’m just making an observation. Your laugh is objectively great."

"Objectively?" She stabs the last piece of broccoli. "Is there some kind of study you’re referencing?"

"Of course." I nod. "It’s a scientific fact. I read it in a very reputable journal."

"And what journal would that be?" she asks with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"The ‘Alexei Knows Best’ journal."

She snorts again. "You’re an idiot."

"Maybe . . . but I’m an idiot who’s managed to make you laugh twice now. I’d say that’s a win."

She looks at me for a moment, then finally smiles. It's a real smile this time, not just a fleeting one. It’s small, but it’s there, and it feels like a victory.

"Fine," she says, setting her fork down. "You win. For now."

I raise my hands in surrender. "I’ll take what I can get."

I watch her finish the last of her meal.

"Tell me about your dad," I say quietly. "You don’t talk about him much."

Irina tenses for a second. Her eyes flick toward me, but then she relaxes and lets out a small sigh.

"There’s not much to say," she replies. "He was . . . kind. Strong. Always thought about other people first, even when it cost him everything."

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