They were headed toward the back, toward a man seated at a secluded table, an amber drink in his hand. This could not be Gabriel. Instead of the wizened ogre she’d been expecting, this man had a full head of gray hair, a strong jawline, a dashing dark suit. He looked up and smiled, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners, his lips revealing a glimpse of square white teeth. As he stood to greet her, there was no denying he was an attractive man. Old, but attractive.

“Hi, Natalie,” he said, leaning in and kissing her cheek. It would have been presumptuous in any situation but this one.

“Hi, Gabriel.”

“Call me Gabe,” he said. She didn’t suggest the diminutive Nat. She liked the way he said her full name: Natalie. It sounded like music.

Their attentive host took Nat’s ratty coat, revealing the black peasant top and tight black jeans she was wearing. If she’d had more time to prepare, she’d have borrowed a dress from Ava. But this was the best she could do on such short notice. Gabe didn’t seem to mind. His eyes drifted over her appreciatively as the bar manager pulled out her chair and she sat.

“Something to drink?” the manager asked.

Nat was already drunk. She should order a water, a diet Coke, or a Shirley Temple. But instead, she gestured toward Gabriel’s drink—Scotch? His profile said he liked a good Scotch. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

With a nod, the server left them alone.

“You like a rusty nail?”

So that’s what it was. She’d never had one, but she played along. “I do.”

“Not too strong for you?”

“I can handle my liquor.” She sounded flirtatious, even suggestive. Gabe smiled, his eyes crinkling again.

“Tell me about yourself, Natalie.”

Ava had warned her to protect her privacy, not to reveal the details of her current life. Nat heeded the advice.

“I’m from Blaine. In Washington State. Have you been there?”

“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Of course not. Why would you? It’s small. And boring. That’s why I left.”

He lifted his drink, and the ice cubes tinkled. “I’ve been to Seattle, though. And Vancouver.”

“Close enough.”

“It’s a beautiful area. The ocean and the mountains . . .”

“Yeah.”

“Do you ski?”

“No. I don’t really like the cold.”

God, small talk with an old guy was painful. How did Ava do it with so many men? Nat’s eyes flitted around the bar, chock-full of sophisticated, attractive patrons: couples, friends, a promising first date, perhaps. She and Gabe were the only awkward, mismatched pair there. Nat felt a cold gaze on her, and she turned to see a woman a few tables over. She was in her thirties, an attractive brunette dining with her husband (evident by their matching wedding bands). The woman was sneering at Nat, her judgment and hostility overt. This stranger knew what was going on here, and it disgusted her. A shameful heat crept into Nat’s cheeks.