Daniel felt somewhat nervous as he exited his shop the following afternoon. He stopped at the

bank to pick up some cash, unsure of what Adrian would charge. As Margaret had said before, Adrian was exceptional at his job. Hopefully, getting his cast iron fixed wouldn’t cost a fortune. God knew he needed to save money now more than ever. 

He walked up to the smithy, but briefly stopped outside to take in the ramshackle appearance. Perhaps Mr. Morganson was right, it could use a new coat of paint.

Daniel opened the heavy door and was overcome by a wave of heat. A large fire was actively burning in the corner of the room, which Adrian was standing near. He wore dark glasses, likely to protect his eyes from the fire and his coal-hot tools. He held a heavy metal hammer in his hand, and was striking away at something. His muscles flexed with every blow, making a loud clatter rattle through the room. 

Upon noticing Daniel, he set down whatever he’d been working on. Beads of sweat had accumulated along his brow line, and he lifted the hem of his dark shirt to wipe it off, exposing a sturdy torso dusted in dark hair. Daniel felt the workshop become even warmer at the sight of it.

“Uh,” he said. Though he was usually well spoken, he felt it was exceedingly difficult to form any words. “Pan?”

Pan?!

“Got it here,” Adrian replied, mercifully not commenting on his lack of brain capacity. He tossed the cast iron between his hands, as if it weighed nothing. “Good as new.”

Daniel took it from him, grateful to have something to do with his own hands. He examined the piece carefully. It would be impossible to tell that the handle had ever been broken off.

“Oh, thank you again for doing this,” Daniel beamed, grateful his heirloom had been restored. “How much do I owe you?”

Adrian shook his head and started putting his tools away. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean?”

Adrian shrugged and scratched the back of his neck. “You feed me everyday. Least I could do is fix your cast iron.”

“Yes, but you pay me to feed you everyday,” Daniel huffed, thoroughly confused. “This is your business, you can’t just do work for free.”

Adrian grimaced. “Well, because it’s my business, I can do whatever I want.”

“At least let me take you to lunch.” The words fell from Daniel’s mouth before he could stop them. Adrian stared back at him, slack jawed.

“What?”

“It’s really the least I could do,” Daniel continued, squirming uncomfortably in the silence that followed. “Unless you don’t want to.”

Of course he doesn’t want to!

A number of emotions flitted across Adrian’s face before he came to a decision. “Uh, alright. Yeah, lunch sounds good.”

Daniel was nearly knocked off of his feet by the other man’s answer. “Oh, okay. Any preference for where?”

“How’s Archer’s pub? It’s only a block away.”

“That sounds lovely,” Daniel said with a strained smile. 

“Uh, alright. Let me just tell Chester I’m heading out.”

Daniel stared after Adrian as he moved towards the backroom to find Chester. He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Daniel could still feel himself flushing from earlier. In vain, he attempted to use his hand to  fan his face. 

Without warning, a bespectacled man, probably Chester, peaked around the corner to stare at him.

“Really?” he said loudly, before being pulled back from whence he came.

Daniel could hear Adrian angrily hiss a few parting words before he appeared again, alone, and strode out of his shop, cheeks colored.

Oh bother, Daniel thought to himself. He looks upset. How has this already gone wrong?

He hurried to catch up to Adrian’s long, striding footsteps. The pair walked in relative silence as they moved towards the pub. Luckily, it wasn’t very far away. When they arrived, Adrian opened the heavy, splintered door for him. Daniel nodded gratefully before stepping in and being slapped with the smell of stale beer and smoky firewood.

The pub was teeming with people, all of whom were chattering loudly. The walls of the tavern were adorned with various family crests and dusty animal trophies, only adding to the crowded, cluttered feeling. Daniel felt as though he’d witnessed a miracle when he noticed a small, empty table in the corner of the room, which he hurried to claim.

As soon as they sat down, a gruff looking man with a cigarette hanging from his mouthapproached them.

“Aye, Mr. Daniel Jensen. S’not too often we see you ‘round here. Thought you’d be too good for this place with your fancy cooking.” Officer Neil Archer gave him a withering glare before blowing cigarette smoke into the already stuffy room.

Daniel inhaled deeply, doing his best to maintain his composure. “Hello Mr. Archer. You know that I’ve never said or implied such a thing.” Though it was absolutely true. He’d rather not risk having cigarette ash flicked in his food.

“It’s Officer, not mister to you. Don’t think I’ll be givin’ ya discount cause you're friends with my Lillian.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, Officer. ”

The only reason I tolerate you is because of Lillian, he thought bitterly. Honestly, what did she see in him?

Officer Archer huffed skeptically before taking out a pencil and paper. “What should we get started for you and your friend?”

Daniel cringed internally. There was absolutely no way Adrian would want to be called his friend. This whole thing was thoroughly humiliating.

I wish he had just charged me for the pan.

“I’ll have the fish and chips to eat. To drink I’ll have…” Daniel glanced through the abysmal wine list. “A beer. Whatever is on tap.”

Archer took his menu away, a little more roughly than necessary. “Regular for ya, Adrian?”

Adrian shook his head. “Nah, I’ll have the same as him.”

Archer shuffled away, leaving them alone. When he was finally out of earshot, Adrian turned to Daniel. “And people say I’m unfriendly.”

Daniel couldn’t help the snort of laughter that tore from him. “Yes,” he giggled. “That did seem to be a bit much.”

“Any reason why he acts like you’ve burned his pub down? Or is it just Scottish hospitality?” 

Daniel gave a frustrated sigh, knocking his head back against the wall. “Lillian probably has him thinking I’ve seduced and bedded women all over the tristate area.”

A strand of consonants escaped Adrian’s throat as he seemed to choke on air.

“Are you alright?” Daniel asked. He’d suggest opening a window, but there didn’t seem to be any.

“Yeah, ‘course,” Adrian replied, a bit out of breath. “Have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Bedded women all over the area?”

Now it was Daniel’s turn to begin choking. “That is preposterous!” he bellowed, indignantly. “Just because Lillian and her friends have rather vivid imaginations, doesn’t mean that–,” he cut himself off when he noticed Adrian’s upturned smirk. “You’re teasing me again.”

“Maybe. I don’t care why Archer hates you, as he’s not charging extra for the drinks.” 

As soon as he’d spoken, a barmaid arrived with two steins and they sat in awkward, heavy silence. Daniel wracked his brain for topics of conversation that did not involve salacious rumors or people that hated him. He assumed professions were neutral enough.

He cleared his throat. “Adrian, tell me, how does one become a blacksmith?”

Adrian used his hand to wipe off the froth that had accumulated on his upper lip.  “Family business. My father owned the smithy before me. We worked together until he passed away a few years ago.”

“I’ve heard you're excellent at your craft.”

“You can judge for yourself the next time you use that cast iron,” Adrian shrugged, reluctant to take the compliment. “How about you? Have you always wanted to be a baker?”

Daniel gave a small smile. “It’s been a hobby my entire life. I remember being young and sneaking into the kitchen to help the cooks. They actually taught me most of what I know. Almost all of my fondest childhood memories took place with them.”

“I’m sure they appreciated the extra help.”

Daniel gave a peal of laughter. “I’m sure I was more of a burden than a help, but they were always kind to me about it. I never thought it could actually be my career.”

“Really?” Adrian asked. “What did you think your career would be then?”

“I knew that baking would be out of the question with my family, and I also love reading. I was hoping to open a bookshop. I thought it could be realistic for my family to support, that running a business would be respectable enough for them. I now realize that that never would have happened. It’s silly that I ever entertained the idea.”

Adrian frowned, a small crease forming between his eyebrows. “It’s not silly. You’re a better baker than your uncle, not to speak Ill of the dead. You’ve really turned the place around. They still don’t approve of you being a baker?”

Daniel gave a small chuckle. “My talent doesn’t make a difference. They never approved of me in general, but that doesn’t matter anymore. God knows I’d be a lot richer if I stayed in New York, but money isn’t everything.” 

He looked up and met Adrian’s eye. The man seemed to look genuinely sad from the exchange. Daniel blushed from embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to share so much personal information. 

Adrian must have sensed his unease because he was kind enough to change the topic. “So, tell me about these books you enjoy. Do you have a favorite author?”

“Not really,” he lied.

“You’re lying,” Adrian said immediately. “You’re a horrible liar.”

“I am not!” Daniel protested.

Adrian appeared unimpressed. “Who is your favorite author?”

Daniel hesitated before deciding to reply honestly, even if it would give Adrian extra fuel for his teasing fodder.  “Fine. Jane Austin would be my favorite.”

“Huh.”

“Go on,” Daniel sighed. “Feel free to tease. Everyone else always does.”

“The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.”

Daniel could feel his jaw drop. “You’ve read Northanger abbey.”

Adrian nodded. “Yep. It’s definitely Austen's funniest.”

“I agree,” Daniel replied, heartened by this surprising turn of conversation. “Though nothing can surpass Pride and Prejudice in my opinion.”

“Eh,” Adrian shrugged, scrunching up his nose. “You don’t think Mr. Darcy is a little overrated?”

Daniel audibly gasped and placed his hand over his heart. “What?”

Adrian shook his head and took another pull from his beer. “He seems like a fine guy, if not a bit awkward, but do you really think he’s better than Edmund Bertram?”

“From Mansfield Park?”

“Exactly. The way he supported Fanny is incomparable. He was kind, loyal, honest, and actually a good person. Who’s good these days? Nah, Edmund is a notch above them all.”

“I suppose I can’t disagree with your assessment,” Daniel conceded, still in shock at the turn of conversation. “But there’s something about the brooding nature of Darcy, some sense of mystery that makes him a thrilling leading man.”

Adrian gave him a cheeky grin. “It almost sounds like you like him.”

Abruptly, Daniel snorted into his drink, eyes watering as he coughed, attempting to clear beer from his lungs. “What exactly are you implying?”

“Nothing,” Adrian said, attempting to control his laughter. He tossed Daniel a napkin before standing up. “C’mon, next pint is on me, looks like you could use a new one. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to Archer for you.”

Daniel took a moment to compose himself while Adrian approached the bar. Luckily, none of his drink had stained his clothing. Was it so obvious that Darcy had been his literary crush? If so, he needed to tread more carefully. 

Upon Adrian’s return, Daniel schooled his features. “Adrian, who’s your favorite author?”

“I’m a fan of Austen, but probably the Bronte’s.” 

Daniel felt even more shocked than he had before. “You’re joking.”

Adrian quirked an eyebrow at him. “Why would I be joking?”

“I’m just surprised, I suppose. I didn’t think that the stoic Adrian Dane would be a fan of romance novels.”

“And Doyle,” he cut in. “I love a good muder mystery thriller.”

“Whatever you say.”

“It’s true!” Adrian spluttered. “I just finished reading Hound of the Baskervilles by Doyle. I think it’s one of his best. Very dark and spooky.”

“I haven’t been able to buy a copy yet. It was just released, how were you able to get one?”

“Connections in New York. Lots of clients come out here and will bring stuff from the city if I ask. That sometimes includes books.”

“That must be nice,” Daniel sighed wistfully. He did miss all of the bookstores in New York, but there was no point in dwelling on it. “Going back to the Bronte’s, tell me, what are your thoughts on Heathcliff?”

“Ugh,” Adrian made a mock gagging sound before launching into a tirade of his own.

Their hour together seemed to pass at lightning speed. Daniel couldn’t believe his eyes when he checked his wristwatch.

“I should probably get back to the bakery.”

“Yeah, I need to make sure Chester hasn’t burned the smithy down. You’d think it impossible, but you never know with that man.” 

“This was…” not as terrible as I thought it would be.

“Don’t make it weird,” Adrian replied, standing from his seat and lighting a cigarette. “I’ll see you when I see you.”