“Um, I did that for three hours at the restaurant. You talked about you. I talked about me ...”

“No, we talked about our jobs and about my car and your bike. I want to know more about Savannah. You’ve heard my sordid childhood. Now it’s your turn.”

Not an easy request to fulfill. As supernaturals we’re taught to tread the line between cautious and cagey. It’s worse to look as if we’re holding something back. That went double with a cop.

So I gave him the basic Savannah bio, leaving out names and places. I’d lived with my mom until I was twelve. Then she died and I’d been taken in by a friend of the family. Our twosome soon expanded to three. My guardian’s husband was a lawyer and investigator, and they’d opened their own firm. I’d worked there in school, then stayed on after.

I mentioned getting Lucas’s help fixing the dents in my bike, and Michael said, “So you still live close, I guess?”

“Um, very close. Yes, I’m twenty-one and I still live at home.”

He blinked. “Twenty-one?”

“Didn’t you do your basic background check? What kind of cop are you?”

“I did one, but only to confirm your employment. I didn’t dig up personal info.” He looked at me. “Why? Did you?”

“I just made sure you were who you said you were. So how old did you think I was?”

“Twenty-three, twenty-four. You act older.”

I laughed. “I do believe that’s the first time anyone has said that about me. So, is it too young for you?”

He leaned over, lips coming to mine, arms pulling me into a kiss, soft at first, tentative, then ... wow. The guy could kiss. I finally had to pull back to catch my breath.

“Good answer?” he said.

“Yep. You like them young.”

He flushed. “That was not the message.”

“Are you sure? Because it certainly seems—”

He cut me off with another oxygen-depriving kiss. When I teetered a bit on the edge, he grabbed me like I’d been about to go over, one arm around my waist, the other clutching the rail.

“I think we’d better back up,” he said.

“Mmm.” I glanced over the embankment. “It’s not that far down. Not fatal unless you land wrong.”

He hauled me back under the railing.

“Chicken,” I said.

He snorted. “If I didn’t move, you would have. You play a good game, Savannah, but you’re not nearly as reckless as you seem.”

“Wanna bet?”

I yanked off my boots and got up on the railing, balancing on it.

“I rest my case,” he said, pointing at the discarded boots.

I stuck out my tongue.

“I take back that ‘seem older’ part.”

“As well you should.” I took a few steps along the railing, then hopped off. “So, are you going to tell me how old you are?”

“Twenty-seven.”