“Of course,” he said immediately. “Don’t worry, I understand. I’ll put the top up when you say so. And if anybody sees us before that, I’ll take care of it.” He smiled at me, and then reached forward to straighten out my seat belt where it was twisted over my chest. I froze at his touch, my heart racing.

I turned to face forward, my expression a blank mask. I hadn’t done this—whatever this was—in a very long time and I had no idea how to act. So I followed my favorite attention-diffusing mantra: When in doubt, act fossilized.

He pulled out of our winding drive in silence, the car’s powerful engine purring like a tiger. I relaxed as the night wind blew through my hair, and I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of pure anticipation. This ride was going to be fun…

For at least five minutes we enjoyed the peace and quiet, the darkness of the night only barely interrupted by the car’s low headlights. When he finally spoke, he did so gently, as if not to disturb the mood. “Where would you like to eat?” he asked.

I smiled. “Well, there’s not much choice in Rockabill. We have one diner open at this time of year, and then there’s a place where you can get delicious burgers that seal shut your arteries.”

Ryu didn’t have to think long about that one. “Rockabill’s only diner it is, then,” he decided. He barked his funny laugh again. “What’s it called?”

“The Trough. It’s right on the main square, catty-corner from my work. You can’t miss it.”

“ ‘The Trough’?” he asked, skeptically. “What’s with the name?”

“Well,” I explained, a little embarrassed. “Rockabill used to be a fishing village, but now we’ve tried to move toward tourism and our tourist attraction is the Old Sow.” Ryu looked puzzled, so I continued. “The Old Sow is a giant whirlpool, one of the biggest in the world. She’s very powerful and very unpredictable, and she creates all these really rare tidal phenomena. Like thunder holes,” I clarified. “And standing waves.”

“Huh,” was his only response. Some people were more impressed by tidal phenomena than others.

“Anyway, the town did a sort of big revamp a few years back and the community thought it would be a good idea to make the Old Sow a recognizable brand that could be associated with Rockabill. Hence all the pig connections.”

Ryu chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s hilarious. I get the logic, but it’s a terrible idea. Why would anyone want to eat at a restaurant called the Trough?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, too. “At least the Trough is just a diner,” I told him. “We have what passes for a fancy restaurant here in Rockabill. It’s only open in the summers, and it’s called the Pig Out Bar and Grill.”

Ryu could only groan. “That’s awful!”

I grinned. “Well, the owners are pretty awful, so I guess it fits.”

We were getting near town, and I asked if he would put up the convertible top. He assented without comment and we rode into Rockabill in silence.

Our entrance, even with the top up, received a fair amount of attention from the few people in our main square. It was rare to see such an expensive and impractical vehicle on the streets of Rockabill at this time of year. When we pulled into a parking space right in front of the Trough, it took a moment for me to work up the courage to get out. Everybody in the diner was already peering at us from their tables, and I felt distinctly uncomfortable at the thought of letting them see it was me in the fancy car.

In the meantime, Ryu had come over to the passenger side and opened my door, offering me a hand out of the low seat. I took it, grateful for the support even if he didn’t know why I really needed it. He shut my door without letting go of my hand. Examining my face, he asked, “Are you all right?”

I tried my best to smile, despite the fact that I’d seen the looks exchanged between some of the diners when they’d realized I was the mystery vehicle’s passenger.

“I’m fine,” I said. Unsatisfied with my response, Ryu didn’t let go of my hand nor did he unlock his eyes from mine. “It’s just that I’m not entirely… popular, here in Rockabill.” I chose my words carefully. “I have a reputation for being… unstable. There’s a lot of stuff that happened, in my past. It’s been years, and I’m fine now, but people here haven’t really moved on. So I don’t like to attract attention.” I looked down at my feet, embarrassed by my outburst and terrified that now Ryu would ask me what had happened, and that he’d change toward me once I told him the truth.

Ryu placed his free hand under my chin, forcing my head up so that I met his eyes. “But we both know it’s bullshit,” he said, his voice low and serious. “I know everything that happened to you, Jane. And I know you’re not unstable. The humans fear you because they sense you’re different. And you are different. You reek of power and otherness. Look, my kind knows all about living among humans and I can tell you this: They’re like wild animals. If you let them sense you’ve a weakness, they’ll take advantage of it to hurt you.”

I mulled over Ryu’s words. The part of me that was pure girl whined that he’d said I “reeked,” but I ignored her. For hearing he knew about my past and that he didn’t care floored me. The breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding whooshed out of my body and, to my horror, I felt the telltale pinprick of forming tears. I blinked fiercely. I would not cry in front of this man just because he deigned to speak with me despite my history.

As Ryu stepped forward, his eyes locked on mine, and I was overwhelmed by his physical proximity. His warm hand still cupped my jaw, and his face was way too close for comfort. His eyes are flecked with green, I noted. I think they’re actually hazel. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen real hazel eyes before…

Ryu let his hand drop from my chin as he took a small step backward, and then he brushed my hair away from my face. My skin thrilled at his touch but his movement also broke the spell of the previous moment. I took a deep breath as he offered me his arm like a gallant Victorian gentleman.

“My lady?” he queried, with a slight bow.

I took his arm. “Regulators, mount up,” I muttered, channeling Warren G to fortify myself for our entrance into Rockabill society.

* * *

If I’d walked into the Trough singing the national anthem at the top of my lungs Ryu and I couldn’t have attracted any more curiosity. The whole restaurant was staring at us, silently, as the door chimes tinkled a sarcastic little welcome.

But then Louis Finch, my dad’s childhood friend and the owner of the Trough, bustled over to give me a hug. He had been a tall skinny teenager nicknamed “Beanpole,” a moniker that had stuck despite the fact that he was now incredibly fat. He was also incredibly kind, and I still had the teddy bear he and his wife, Gracie, had sent me while I was in the hospital.

He showed us to a seat in Amy Bellow’s section. Besides Grizzie and Tracy, I considered Amy one of my few friends here in Rockabill, and my dad and I always sat in her section when we came into the Trough. Louis handed us menus and made a funny little congratulatory face at me as Ryu opened his, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Ryu looked up and I think he caught the exchange, which made me blush again. If I wasn’t careful I was going to turn red permanently.

“So, what do you usually order?” he asked, scanning the menu.

“I always get the tuna melt. I like tuna.” Be careful, Jane, I thought, blanching internally. You don’t want to overwhelm him with your cool sophistication.

“I prefer red meat,” he replied, conversationally. “I’ll get the rib-eye.”

He looked around the diner. “Nice place, very homey.”

“Yes,” I said. “It should be.” I leaned over the table, conspiratorially. “Louis and Gracie—they’re the owners; he’s the guy that greeted us—spent a fortune on an interior decorator to give the place a ‘country diner’ feel. Which the decorator did. Only it looks exactly the same as when she started, except for there’s more peach involved. Gracie swears it’s all in the little touches, but nobody else can see any difference.”

Ryu barked his absurd laugh, causing old Mrs. Patterson to glare at him from over her clam chowder, and I giggled at both of them.

At that moment, Amy came over with her pad and pencil. Her dishwater-blond hair, complete with dark roots, was cut in a shaggy surfer ’do, and she was dressed more like she was headed for a bonfire on a beach in California than a Northeastern winter. She also had the habitually lazy eyes and perma-friendliness of someone who smoked loads of pot. So I was more than a little surprised when, after seeing who I was sitting with, her expression changed from friendly and open to closed and threatening.

“Jane,” she greeted me with a nod before turning her attention to Ryu. “And who might you be?” she questioned, coldly. All traces of friendly stoner were gone; Amy suddenly crackled with energy and malice. Whatever was going on here was beyond me.