Page 87 of Sleigh Bells and Snowstorms
Lowering the binoculars, I waited, my ears sharp. I could hear the music playing in the background, but not well enough to place the song. Except… was that Christmas music? In the gym?
So very Tilikum.
A male voice made my back straighten.
“Hey. Sorry, I don’t mean to bug you while you’re working out.”
I lifted the binoculars. He’d approached her.
“That’s okay,” Natalie said. “Do we know each other? You look familiar.”
“I don’t think we’ve met.” He held out a hand and she took it. “Julian Myers.”
“Natalie Thatcher.”
“You are Natalie,” he said. “I thought you must be.”
“How did you know?”
“Sorry, that sounded creepy. My grandma keeps trying to set me up on dates. A couple weeks ago, she started going on and on about, well, you. She showed me a picture. And now I sound creepy again. It was from your social media. My grandma isn’t a stalker.”
“She must know Louise Haven,” Natalie said. “She’s the one who always wears a velour tracksuit.”
“I think they’ve been conspiring against us.”
“I think you’re right.”
My back tightened at the flirtatiousness in Natalie’s voice. Fucking Julian. What a prick.
“I saw you at the Snowflake Ball,” he said. “I was going to introduce myself, but it looked like you were with someone.”
Natalie groaned. “That was a very brief, and I mean extremely temporary, mistake.”
I bit the inside of my lower lip to keep from commenting.
“Oh really?” Julian asked, and even through the earpiece, I could hear the hopefulness in his tone.
“Really. He’s just this guy from out of town. He’s not even here anymore. That was the one and only time we ever went out.”
“That’s, um… that’s good to hear.”
“You have him in the palm of your hand,” I said quietly.
She sighed. “Yeah, I don’t know. I keep thinking I should give up on dating. Or maybe just give in and let Louise Haven set me up with someone.”
“That’s not the worst idea,” he said. “Depending on who he is.”
“It would definitely depend on who he is,” she said, her tone laced with suggestion.
“Tell me this,” he said. “What are you looking for?”
“Bloody hell, he just handed it to you,” I said. “Remember what we know about him.”
We’d discussed the summary of Maple’s findings at length, as well as pored over his social media accounts together. We knew his interests—things like art, history, travel—and we also knew he liked attention. He was a man quite concerned with appearing sophisticated.
The light flirtation in her laugh was perfection. “What am I looking for? That’s actually a good question. I guess I’m lookingfor someone smart and interesting. Successful, but not so he can wine and dine me. Someone who likes to talk about things besides sports and cars. Who’s willing to let me get to know him. Share what fascinates and interests him.”
“You’re fucking brilliant,” I said. “Subtle but leading him in the right direction.”
