“You sure? Because-”

“I’m sure.” The only person who had put Sydney up to this was Sydney. Well, Sydney and a thousand hours of research in museum basements across Europe.

She moved her cup to one side and leaned forward, her interest piqued. “But tell me why your grandmother might have sent me.”

He tightened his jaw and sat back in purposeful silence.

Sydney wriggled a little in her seat. “Hoo-ha. I can tell this is going to be good.”

He didn’t answer, just stared her down.

“Dish,” she insisted, refusing to be intimidated. She had a feeling people normally gave him a wide berth. And she had no intention of behaving like normal people. Surprise was one of her best weapons.

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. It’s because she’s an incorrigible matchmaker.”

Sydney bit down on a laugh. “Your grandmother is setting you up?”

He grimaced. “That sounded pathetic, didn’t it?”

“A little.”

“She’s a meddler. And…well…” He seemed to catch himself, and he quickly shook his head. “Nah. Not going there. You tell me what you’re doing in Blue Earth Valley.”

Sydney wrapped her hands around her coffee cup. Right. Stalling wasn’t going to change a thing. She’d plunge right in and hope to catch him off guard. “I’m a curator from the Laurent Museum.”

He didn’t react. Didn’t show any signs of panic. That was good.

“I’ve just finished three months’ research in Europe.”

He waited. Still no reaction.

“It supplemented three years of previous research. My thesis, actually.”

“You wrote a thesis?”

“Yes, I did. On the Thunderbolt of the North.”

Okay. That got a reaction from him. His eyes chilled to sea ice and his jaw clamped tight.

“I understand you’re the current owner.”

His palms came down hard on the table. “You understand wrong.”

“Let me rephrase-”

“Good idea.”

She leaned in again. “I know how it works.”