Lacey had ended up following Theo back to his shop, and he wasn't quite sure what to make of that. He was only open until around seven, and then they could go home and face what had just happened. The fact that neither of them had been able to get an answer from Neal was, frankly, a little worrying. If the conversation with Emma had gone well, Neal would have come right back and explained the mixup. So now Theo was preparing for the apparently very real possibility that he had a grandchild he'd never known about. He'd met Henry before once or twice, but Emma had really only brought him to visit her parents over the holidays. It hadn't ever even occurred to him that he might be related to the boy.

Theo was a grandfather now, and he had no idea what to make of that fact. He'd never really spent any time with his grandson, he had no idea what he'd like, and it was almost Christmas. Then there was the fact that his son had brought home this other girl and for some reason Theo couldn't stop staring at her. He knew that there was something peculiar going on with Neal and Lacey, but he still hadn't figured out precisely what it was. Maybe this would be a good chance to try to puzzle her out. If nothing else, it would be a good distraction from everything else that was happening.

She'd stopped to peek in the windows of the library on their way back to the store, but it hadn't been open in months, so he couldn't imagine there was much to see through the darkened windows. Still, it was one more piece to an increasingly perplexing puzzle.

"Do you think Neal's okay?" she asked once she'd rejoined him. "I'm kind of worried we haven't heard from him."

"I don't know," Theo replied. "But regardless of the outcome, I imagine those two have a lot to talk about."

"Yeah, generally it's a bad sign when a guy isn't sure if you've had his baby or not, isn't it?"

"Thankfully, I wouldn't know."

"Me either," she replied. "It just seems like a bad sign."

She'd sounded different since the aborted proposal, but he wasn't sure if she'd realized it or not. It was another peculiarity that he was completely stuck on. She must have been faking the accent, so what else had she been faking?

"I'm sorry your proposal was interrupted," he said, watching her carefully.

Lacey had been setting her shopping bags on the counter when he said it, and she froze with her back to him before relaxing her shoulders very deliberately.

"No worries, mate," she said, in an accent someplace between the two. "There'll be time. No drama."

He should call her out on this, but for some reason he was fascinated by this change. She was going seamlessly between a normal human being and a trashy, vulgar, trollop. And, to be wildly honest, he couldn't decide which version he preferred. Not for Neal, of course – Neal, thus far, had demonstrated better taste in women than his father had. Lacey was still off limits, of course. Good taste and common decency dictated he forget she existed, but she was fishing through her shopping bags now and apparently that had involved a trip to the one lingerie store in town.

He really shouldn't be watching as she pulled things out of bags and put them in other bags. It wasn't a good idea, but she was apparently the new owner of sexy elf lingerie. This was going to be a long week.

Belle was just about to get into the car with Neal's dad when her phone finally vibrated with a text message from Neal. It was the first contact they'd managed to have with him since he ran out of the diner, and she was so relieved she almost wasn't annoyed he'd waited so long before finally sending a message.

this guy says i need a ride.

It was a distressingly simple text, and it demanded her attention.

What guy? she sent back. Where are you?

the bbar, he replied. guy here sayys i cant drive.

So he was clearly not going to be much help.

"What bars are in town?" Belle asked Mr. Gold. "Neal's at one of them."

"There's really just The Rabbit Hole," he replied. "It's a couple blocks away. Do you need me to drive you?"

"No," she replied, calling up the address on her phone. "I'll walk there and take his car back, that way if he pukes in it it's his problem."

He nodded and she could feel him watching her for a few moments as she followed her GPS towards the bar. At least she'd put her shopping bags into his car, so she didn't have those to deal with at the moment. She was fairly certain from the state of those text messages she was going to have her hands full just trying to load him into his car. Thank God this was such a small town.

The Rabbit Hole was one of those bars peculiar to small towns where it wasn't quite a dive, but there was an air of disreputability about the whole place. Neal was sitting at a table with his head drooping perilously. He noticed her as she approached and his face split into a slow smile.

"Hey, Belle!" he slurred. "Come an' drink with me. It's a boy!"

"So he was yours, huh?"

"She didn' even tell me," he said. "Like 'e's not my kid, too."

"That sucks. What are you gonna do?"

"I dunno yet," he said thoughtfully. "What would you do?"

"I think your first step needs to be going home and sleeping it off," she said, gesturing the bartender over.

Neal whined and moaned as Belle closed his tab out, but the bartender was polite and firm about telling Neal he needed to leave, and once they were out the door it didn't require a whole lot more cajoling to walk him down the street to his car. She ended up laying him down in the backseat and driving back to his father's while he dozed, and if she hadn't been afraid for him freezing to death she would have just left him back there when she got back to his dad's place. She somehow managed to maneuver him out of the car and into the house, and dumped him in his bed with a wastebasket next to it.

She didn't want to spend an evening alone with Mr. Gold, but it was way too early to go to sleep and she at least owed him to tell him how Neal was. The older man was far too intriguing to Belle, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to stay Lacey.

He was sitting with a glass in his hand when she found him, and she felt exhausted all of a sudden at the prospect of nursing another one of them through the night.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked her.

She nodded and sat across from him on the sofa while he poured her a glass of whatever it was he'd been drinking. She settled in and sipped the amber liquid. It burned a bit, but it warmed her, too. He was looking at her in a way that made her stomach do flips, and she just wanted to sit here and drink until it felt like a good idea to hang out with him while drinking.

"Congratulations, by the way," she said after a few minutes. "You're a grandfather."

Theo felt old. In the blink of an eye he'd gone from father to grandfather and somehow sitting on the sofa with a girl his son's age and getting absolutely hammered was not helping him feel any younger.

Lacey was a few drinks behind him, but when she drank she became louder and more exuberant whereas he knew he had a tendency to get morose. If anything, it was probably a good thing that he was drinking with her and not alone tonight.

"How have you never played this game?" she said with a tipsy giggle. "It's a classic!"

"I actually studied at university," he replied with a smile. "But I'm game to learn if you are to teach me."

"Lucky you, I am a very good teacher."

She was very clearly inebriated, and this was probably a bad idea for a myriad reasons, but she was so pretty and he just wanted to spend more time talking with her.

"It's really easy," she continued. "Every turn, you say two things that are true and one that's not and I have to guess which is the lie, and you do the same to me. Okay?"

"I think I can manage that. But you have to start."

She smiled brightly and he couldn't help but smile back at her. She hummed and tucked her legs up under her and if he'd been sober he probably would have averted his eyes but he was drunk and her legs were still fascinatingly long.

"Alright," she began. "My three stories are: I have a tattoo inside my panties, my parents split up when I was seventeen, and I once broke my arm falling off a ladder trying to reach the top shelf at the library."

He watched her face as she spoke, but she was so drunk already she couldn't stop smiling.

"The tattoo," he said at last. "I don't think you were telling the truth about that one."

"No," she replied, slapping his arm playfully. "I told you about it earlier, remember?"

Of course he did, but he hadn't really believed her.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's a little rose. I got it the first week of college. I was pledging a sorority and we went to this frat party and had way too much to drink and somehow I ended up at a tattoo parlor with some of my friends and we all got something." She paused and bit her lip and he was having trouble focusing on her face. It felt like looking into the sun. "Wanna see?" she asked, and what could he do besides nod?

She was a little unsteady as she got to her feet, nearer now than she had been while she was on the sofa with him, and hooked her thumbs under the front of her skirt and pulled it down just enough for him to see the little pink flower sitting just to the side of the crease of her leg on her pubis mons. He couldn't stop looking at it, and she wasn't making any move to cover herself back up. It drew him in and he sat up and leaned forward until his entire field of view was her torso with the tiny, delicate little rose in her soft looking skin. He could lick it. He wanted to lick it, and then kiss his way further down until he could bury his face between her legs and hear her cry out. But he was a grandfather and this was his son's...something. He still didn't believe half of what she said or did, but he had no idea who or what she actually was.

He heard her make a sound and he looked up to see she was watching him just as intently as he had been her, and it was the hardest thing he'd had to do to pull away without even touching the flower.

"It's very pretty," he said, and he could hear how strained his voice was. She pulled her skirt back up and knelt across from him on the sofa again.

"You have to drink now," she said. "You were wrong."

He nodded and took a sip of his drink, still not quite taking his eyes off of her face. She was so lovely, and it was so hard to not be closer.

"Is it my turn?" he asked and she nodded, swirling her glass a little bit.

He thought about it, trying to decide what he could use. There were so many things, and he was so drunk. It was so hard to choose.

"My parents both left when I was a child," he said. "I had to come to America because I had a criminal record in Scotland, and my shop is a front for the mafia."

Lacey was wide eyed as she looked at him and he just waited.

"I hope it's the mafia thing," she said at last. "At least, I think I hope it's the mafia thing."

"It is," he replied, taking his punishment shot. "Good job."

"Those were so sad though," she said, reaching out and putting her hand on his comfortingly and suddenly he wanted to tell her a lot more stories to see what else she'd do if he made her sad enough.

"It was a long time ago – before you were even born."

"It's still sad," she said, scooting a little bit closer and it was hard not to notice her skirt riding higher up on her legs. If she pulled her legs up again, he was positive he'd be able to see her panties now.

"We all have sad stories," he said, trying to focus on her face and not the rest of her. "I'm sure you have your own."

"My parents didn't get divorced," she said. "But my mum died when I was seventeen. My dad's still around, though. He's in Sydney with his family right now."

Her hand had somehow migrated from his hand to his arm to his knee as she'd moved closer to him, and it felt right even though he knew it was such a bad idea to let her be this close. The whole thing was morally so wrong, but somehow the taboo just added to the thrill of her fingers on the inside of his thigh.

"This game got depressing," she said at last. "Have you ever tried Truth or Dare?"

"You know I was in a sorority," Belle reminded him as she stripped off her sweater and tossed it onto the floor by the front door. "I don't know why you'd think I've never done this before."

"I'm perfectly willing to be proven wrong," Mr. Gold replied, standing in the foyer watching her kick off her shoes.

She was just tipsy enough that it seemed like a good idea to slow down as she shed her skirt and then to make a show of pulling off her tights, complete with bending over in her panties to pull them off her feet. She was now standing in her bra and panties in full view, and it should be a lot more embarrassing than it was, but she was moments away from jogging around his house like that so embarrassment was a concept she'd let go of already tonight.

She opened the door and was instantly assaulted by the crisp December air. Somehow, she'd forgotten how cold snow could be.

"You're not going to back out, are you?" Mr. Gold asked with a teasing lilt to his voice.

"Of course not," she shot back. "I never turn down a dare."

She took a deep breath and braced herself before leaping out into the snow in her bare feet. The cold was sobering as she dashed through the snow towards the back of the house, praying none of the neighbors looked out and saw her mad dash around the house. By the time she made it back to the front door she was just about frozen, but she was laughing too hard to care.

"Here," he said, holding a robe out to her and she took it gratefully. Her hands were shaking too much to bother with her clothes, and he guided her back into the warmth of the living room.

"That's so cold!" she said, trying not to shiver too hard. "I'm going to need a lot more whiskey."

"As you wish," he replied, getting another bottle from a cabinet against the wall and bringing it over before he joined her on the sofa. "There's plenty more where that came from."

"Such a thoughtful host. Can you pour?"

He nodded and filled both their glasses, splashing a little in his inebriation. She was having a really good time.

"It's your turn now!" she said. "Truth or dare?"

"I think after that I'm going to have to go with truth," he replied. "I don't think I want to go outside in my boxers."

"Too bad," she said, giving him what she hoped was a suggestive look. God, she was being forward as hell but it was thrilling and fun and she could always say it was the booze talking. Anyway, he didn't seem to mind. "Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked, nudging his leg with her frozen toes.

He did a doubletake and she couldn't help smiling. He was so cute when he was startled.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because that's the game," she said, letting her toes slide up his leg towards his hip. "Come on, Mr. Gold. It's a real easy question. Do you think I'm pretty or not?"

"Theo."

"What?"

"My name. Call me Theo, please."

"Whatever you want," she said. "But I am going to have to insist that you answer the question, Theo. Or else take your penalty drink."

He sighed and eyed his newly filled cup as if trying to decide if he wanted to drain it or not.

"Yeah," he said, leaning his head back on the sofa and closing his eyes. "I think you're pretty."

She rolled her legs under herself and leaned towards him on her hands and knees.

"Do you wanna kiss me?" she asked.

He lifted his head and looked into her eyes for a long moment.

"Is that a truth or a dare?"

"Your choice."

"It's not your turn."

"I don't know why you're making this so difficult," she said, scooting closer. "I'm not gonna say no if you ask. I think we're a little past that point."

"That...is very good to know."

She'd thought he'd kiss her now, and honestly she wanted him to. Something about him drew her in. Maybe it was that he seemed so in need of comfort or that she wasn't indulging any of her usual inhibitions, but she wanted her kiss more than she'd wanted any other kiss in her life and the longer he made her wait the more she wanted him. She was going to end up pulling her hair out if he didn't start soon.

"What about Neal?" he said at last and she suddenly remembered why she was being so free-spirited in the first place.

"That's nothing," she replied. "We're just friends. And I think we both know he's got more important things to worry about than fucking with you right now."

The corner of his mouth turned up and he looked a little bit dangerous and a lot more sexy, and her stomach did a little flip. Dammit.

"That's right," he said. "I'm apparently a grandfather now. And I'm old enough to be your father."

"But you're not my father," she said, trying not to pout too much. She wasn't used to having to work this hard for a kiss. "Come on...just one little kiss. What can it hurt?"

"You're drunk."

"You're drunker."

"Who are you?" he asked her.

"I'm the drunk girl who's been trying really hard to get a kiss out of you."

"I mean really – who are you really?"

She sat back on her feet and looked at him.

"Why do you need to know that?"

He shrugged and watched her openly again, and this time she wasn't quite sure what to make of it. She was suddenly feeling a little distressed and she didn't know if she wanted the kiss anymore. What did he even mean by asking that?

"I don't want to talk anymore," she said at last, pulling back to her side of the sofa and wrapping the robe tighter around her body.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking at her with confusion in his face that mirrored the confusion she felt. She wasn't even sure why this bothered her so much.

"I think I need a shower," she said at last, setting her drink down and standing up. "I'm still really cold."

He nodded, but took her hand in his before she could walk away. He wasn't even holding her tightly, but she still froze as he brought her palm to his lips and pressed a kiss to it before releasing her to dash upstairs to the relative safety of her room. It was the first time he'd ever touched her.