Page 22 of An English Bear in Berlin

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He smiled. “You would have figured it out.”

“Eventually,” I said with a chuckle.

There was a pause before Stefan extended his hand once more. “Well, enjoy your visit to Berlin.”

“I will,” I said, smiling as we shook.

We stood there for a moment longer, then Stefan inclined his head and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.

I watched him go.

It should have ended there. After all, it was only a stranger helping another stranger, right? Nothing more than that. But something in me resisted the moment closing quite so neatly.

I stayed where I was a second too long, as if part of me expected him to turn back.

He didn’t.

Then my phone buzzed in my pocket, and the moment was broken.

I took it out and peered at the screen.

Karl: Where are you?

I typed quickly.About to get a taxi. Coffee would be good.

Karl: It will be waiting for you.

I pocketed my phone, then glanced in the direction Stefan had taken. The crowd had swallowed him up.

I wasn’t sure if what surged through me was disappointment, regret, or simply the sense that something had slipped past me before I’d had a chance to understand it.

I exhaled, shaking my head.I’m being ridiculous. It had been a simple kindness, nothing more.

And yet?—

If that was Berlin… If men like Stefan were just part of the landscape here?—

A strange, unfamiliar thought surfaced.

Maybe I’ve come to the right place.

Stefan

I walked away without looking back.

I’d learned that a long time ago, not to linger, not to turn a passing moment into something it wasn’t. Berlin was full of brief encounters and glances.

Possibilities that dissolved as quickly as they appeared.

I slowed as I reached the edge of the concourse. Something tugged at my attention, and I stopped and turned, incapable of quelling the impulse.

Kieran was still there, exactly where I’d left him, his attention focused on his phone. I watched him for a moment, unableto rid myself of the impression I’d had on the train. I’d sensed attraction, no doubt about that, but there was something else layered beneath it. A kind of hesitation, as if Kieran were standing on the threshold of something he didn’t yet understand.

And then again, maybe I’m reading too much into this.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. The way he held himself, so contained, so careful. There was tension in those broad shoulders. I recalled the way his eyes tracked the space around him, alert but uncertain.

And then there was the way he looked. That full beard ending in such a neat line, those blue eyes… I’d glimpsed the curve of muscles across his shoulders, not to mention the dark hair beneath that white shirt.