Ryan was ten minutes late. Emma Swan walked over to the maître d' and said, "I'll just wait here for a bit." He gave her a look of disapproval but nodded. So Emma stood off to the corner, feet burning in her four-inch heels and face burning from embarrassment. Her dress was too tight and too bright to blend in. Emma Swan was not usually fond of bright pink, but when her prey arrived she needed him to bite right away. Ryan—cute name, cute face, ugly personality.

Ryan was twenty minutes late. The maître d' gave her that look. The look Emma Swan had seen too many times: the look of pity. The hostess beckoned her over and said, "We can seat you now." Emma nodded uncomfortably as a waitress showed her to a table for two. Two wine glasses, two plates, two forks, spoons, and knives. Two napkins and salad plates. With of course, two chairs. She sighed, sat down, and said, "Bring me something strong, please."

Ryan was thirty minutes late. People at nearby tables began to glance. She swirled the whisky in her glass and tossed it back, but it wasn't the burn in her throat that made her uncomfortable. It was a couple of looks from a few tables. They were subtle, but Emma could feel their mocking sympathy coating her, itching like wool.

Ryan was forty minutes late. Emma didn't think he was coming. After all, he wasn't known for his integrity. He'd be cheating on his wife just by showing up. Emma had already put up the bail money, though, and desperately hoped he'd make her job easier by making a late appearance. Plus, people began to stare more openly. Raised eyebrows, hushed laughter, and Emma most definitely needed some more whisky. The waiter gave her that look when she asked. He even came back to ask if she'd like to go ahead and order. She replied, "No, thanks, just, um, waiting …"

Ryan was fifty minutes late. Half an hour she'd been at the table and the waiter had been back twice to refill her whisky glass. People were pointing. They nudged their neighbors and nodded in her direction. God, that was humiliating. That's how they'd break in the new kids in every foster home she was shoved into. You were new, you were other, and you were not family. A flood of memories came rushing back, and Emma couldn't build the mental wall fast enough. Emma's head fell into her hands, and just as she stood to leave, a jacket fell over the back of the chair opposite her. She looked up and into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen.

Ryan was fifty-two minutes late. "Hey, love! Sorry, traffic was bloody awful!" The newcomer shouted a little too loudly as he wrapped his arms around Emma's waist, pulling her into a hug. His breath was warm on her ear as he whispered, "Just go with it." He pulled back and smiled before taking the seat across from her. "Whoever stood you up is a real tosser." If only he knew.

Ryan was an hour late. Her new date's name was Killian. When Emma asked why he was in the restaurant he said, "I was third-wheeling for a couple of friends over there," He nodded to a table further away. "And I'm not one to pass up an opportunity to help a beautiful lady such as yourself. Truly, no hardship on my part." Emma unwillingly flushed and ordered a salad, not because it was healthy but because it was the only thing she was pretty sure wouldn't get stuck in her teeth.

Ryan was an hour and fifteen minutes late. It was the women at nearby tables staring, but not at Emma. Killian was a lawyer—new in town. His hair had an adorably messy look, which appeared effortless but probably took a good twenty minutes, Emma estimated. Killian liked to sail. He once crossed the Atlantic, but admitted even he couldn't stand more than a couple weeks without stepping on dry land. "The sea is like home, but you have to stand still to appreciate the horizon."

Ryan was ninety minutes late. "My date jumped bail," Emma admitted. "I was hoping he'd show so I could deliver him to his parole officer," She shrugged. "I guess he found something better to do." To which Killian replied, "There is absolutely nothing I would rather be doing." He raised a teasing eyebrow and Emma smiled into her salad, unable to meet his gaze.

Ryan was an hour and forty minutes late and Emma couldn't care any less. An hour with Killian and she was smitten. Guarded, but smitten. Wow, he was gorgeous. Not cute, no, not cute. There was something menacing in the way he avoided personal questions. Something she couldn't identify in how he kept looking over her shoulder at his friendly couple, whose eyes Emma could feel boring holes into her head. Emma found herself drawn to that part of Killian—the part he didn't want her to see. She could tell he was not proud of his past.

Ryan was an hour and forty-five minutes late when Killian started teasing Emma with questions. "If you could have a superpower, what would it be?" "I have a super power." His eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "Oh, do you?" Emma leaned forward, resting her chin on her fist. "I can tell when anyone is lying," She whispered. Killian smiled, "Well then," He took her hand. "Emma Swan, I am having a wonderful time." Killian lightly kissed Emma's knuckles, not taking his eyes off hers. Emma's face reddened under his gaze because he wasn't lying.

Ryan was two hours late when the waiter brought their check. Emma reached for the book but Killian was too quick. She protested but Killian said, "Swan, I'm guessing you put up the bastard's bail? You got all dressed for the occasion and are going to spend much of your time tomorrow catching him. And you will catch him." He winked. "Plus, I was late." He pulled out his AmEx and Emma tried to keep her eyes from popping out of her head. Lawyer.

Ryan was two hours and fifteen minutes late when Killian helped Emma stand, as she wobbled a bit in her too-high heels. He offered his hand as they walked to their cars; Emma took it and surged with adrenaline. Killian was dangerous, not because Emma knew nothing about him, but because she knew more than he wanted. The fear of letting someone in too far and making yourself vulnerable, she saw it in Killian like a mirror. He twined their fingers like it was second nature and everything finally felt like it was going. Killian was new and exciting and exactly what Emma felt like she needed.

Ryan was two hours and seventeen minutes when they reached Emma's bug. Killian opened the driver's door, but Emma didn't feel it was the right way for the evening to end. Aided by alcohol, she pulled Killian into a kiss. She meant for it to be quick, really, but then his tongue was in her mouth. Emma grabbed the collar of his leather jacket and desperately pulled him closer.

Ryan was two hours and eighteen minutes late when Emma first felt the soft press of Killian's lips. Then the kiss was hot and fast, hardly breaking apart before their mouths met again. Emma's back was to the driver's side door, which closed as Killian heatedly pushed her closer to the car so he could brace his hands on the top. There was no space between them, and when there was, Emma couldn't quite find it within herself to pull away. Their noses touched and Emma breathed, "Come home with me."

Ryan was two hours and twenty minutes late when Killian found his voice. "Swan, I can't." Emma suggestively pressed her navel against his and said, "I need you." Killian sighed, his knuckles white as he gripped the door frame trying to maintain self-control. "Swan, if I go home with you, it's just sex. Believe me, I want that." Emma knew it because that want pressed itself quite persistently against her thigh. "But if you'll allow me, love, I'd really like to give you some more good dates. I am quite close to damning chivalry and following you home in this yellow deathtrap, but I haven't such a good date in a long time. Love hasn't been kind to me, but, crazy enough, I want to take that chance on you, Emma."

Ryan was two hours and twenty-two minutes late when Emma drove off in her bug alone. Killian Jones's cell phone number was in her iPhone. Alongside it was a dark, grainy contact photo of him smiling as Emma playfully kissed his cheek. She smiled to herself, knowing it would be hard opening up again. How painful it would be to be vulnerable again. Could she love again? Emma didn't know. But Killian Jones was there when someone abandoned her, and that was a solid start.