“Anyone meaningyou.”
He lifted a shoulder.“It helps to know the law when you’re staring down a sheriff.But now I’m thinking...what if she wants to stay?And that’s why...I mean, maybe that’s why she’s being weird.”
“Still don’t think she’s being weird, but she is your girlfriend.You know her best.”
The words hit him, and he drew them in as the band finished up their song.
“I never knew a love like this...’til there was you.”
Hedidknow her.And the Harper he loved was adventurous and smart and brave and...
A homebody, the girl next door, a woman who wanted a family.A home.
Yeah, that was it.
Applause, and it felt like he’d landed on the right answer.He’d find out the results of the bar, and then...and then he’d figure out the right moment to propose.
And they’d live happily ever after.
* * *
Alone, it might be simple.Sneak in, grab Luis, sneak out?—
But with Steinbeck in the game, they might actually all live too, so there was that.
“I have to admit, Phoenix, you know how to pick a view.”Steinbeck perched on a clay-tiled roof next to her, having climbed out onto the seven-story building via the Airbnb she’d rented—conveniently close to the safe house.
In fact, maybe she’d consider moving it, since from here it was a simple jump from one building to the next—if one ignored the gap of sure death—and a scramble across a clutter of buildings all the way to the stone balcony built into the roof of the one-room apartment-slash-safe-house.
For a brief time, she’d lived here, back when she was trying to shake off the terror of Krakow, so yes, the view was etched in her memory.
An orange-rose sunset blushed the Douro River, turning the red roofs flanking each shore a deep copper, and on the water, boats stacked up, one against the other, along the harbor.Spanning the river, the impressive Dom Luís I Bridge, created by the architect of the Statue of Liberty, cast a golden glow across the water.
From the wharf and the long stone boardwalk, cobbled streets wound uphill to the district of Ribeira, the historic buildings bathed in soft light, the sound of fado music drifting up from the street cafés.
Across the river, in the Vila Nova de Gaia, the terraced restaurants and hotels sparkled against the deepening light, and perched on a tall cliff, the arched entrances of the old Serra do Pilar monastery glowed like eyes over the river.The Taylor’s Port winery building anchored the other end of the boardwalk.
And overlooking it all, the Baroque Paço Episcopal, shining like a light on a hill.
“I take you to all the best places,” she said, glancing over at Steinbeck.
He wore a black shirt and a pair of dark cargo pants, and frankly, he looked like a thief.But he grinned at her, those blue eyes sparking, a smile on his face, andoh,focus.
Because it was one thing to play a role in a game of normal.Completely another to have this man in her real life, shoulder to shoulder...
“Am I ever going to be rid of you?”
She shook the question away and focused on the route.“Listen.There’s cameras.And a wire all around the balcony, just like at my place.You trip it, an alarm sounds.He’ll know we’re coming.”
“So?”
“He might shoot us.”
He glanced at her.“You go first.”
“Coward.”
“Brawk, brawk, baby.I’ve already been shot once hanging out with you.”
