Steve huffed a small laugh, her no-nonsense attitude endearing to him in a way he couldn't quite explain. Perhaps he'd had enough of shrinking violets and women who feigned interest but their only real interest was in his title. The widow hadn't even asked his name, and Steve was ashamed to realize that, despite being close to naked in front of her, he didn't know hers either. The innkeeper had merely spoken of her as "the widow on the hill."

"I would take two sugars, if it's not an inconvenience," he told her. "I would also take your name, for I fear I've gone about this completely backwards. I'm Steven Rogers - Steve, if I'm not being too forward."