Olive glanced up at him, then looked out at the water again.He appreciated that she’d listened to him about casual clothes.She had on a pair of comfortable jeans, a white top, and a thick gray sweater.A matching gray cap covered her ears, featuring a cute white pompom on the top.
“No,” she breathed.“It’s incredible.”
“I like the reflection of the lights on the water,” he said.“My dad was stationed in Florida when I was like ten.On Fourth of July, our family watched fireworks from a sandbar.The way the reflection of the lights rippled with the water was really cool.”
She glanced up at him, her eyes wide.Something in her face made his mouth dry.A smile tugged at her lips.“Why, Jerry McBride, you’re about to become poetic.”
He reached over, letting a soft, auburn curl wrap around his fingertip.The smell of strawberries danced in the air between them.“Something about you inspires poetry in me, Olive Duncan.”
“Oh?”she asked, breathless.“Are you a modern David?A poetic warrior?”
“I think I could be.”Just then, a little boy, maybe nine or ten, ran into him and looked up at him with shock.Jerry shifted and smiled reassuringly and said, “It’s okay, buddy.”
The kid ran to catch up with his family.Jerry watched him until he rejoined his mother.“Cute kid.”
Unfortunately, the moment between him and Olive had passed.He put a hand on the back of her arm and steered her around the group that had mingled and converged around them.“I didn’t expect it to be so busy on a weeknight.”
“‘Tis the season,” she said, looping her arm through his.“What a perfect night, too.Just cold enough to honor the season but not arctic.”
“Don’t guess you get a lot of snow around Mobile.”
She chuckled.“Reckon not.But they do up the French Quarter downtown pretty good with lights, and there’s carriage rides.Nicer than New Orleans if you ask me.And it becomes festive enough.”
The child who had bumped into Jerry walked back by with his family and gave Jerry a little smile and wave.Jerry smiled and waved back.
“You’re good with kids,” Olive said.
“I love kids.Maxima debetur puero reverential, you know?”
“Afraid I don’t know.I recognize it’s Latin, but please translate.”
“Oh,” Jerry stopped walking.“Roughly, ‘The greatest reverence is due to a child’.”
She grinned.It made a dimple appear on her right cheek.“You’re a little bit of a show-off, Sergeant First Class Gerald McBride.”
He cocked his head and gave her a tight-lipped grin.“Just trying to impress you, Olivia Duncan.”
“I think it’s working.Just a little bit.”
They strolled, pointing out displays that caught their eyes.Several times, they took selfie photos, and once, an older man offered to take a picture of the two of them.Olive readily handed her phone over, and Jerry pulled her close to his side, smiling broadly.
Jerry would get mission details in the morning.He only knew he would board a plane and fly to a place that required cold-weather gear.That could mean any number of places.As much as he didn’t enjoy getting his photo taken, he wanted her to have a photo of them together if something happened.Silly, considering they’d spent no more than a few hours breathing the same air.But he could feel something here—something deeper and more than a casual evening with a friend.
A riverboat trudged by.“Beautiful,” she whispered.
He stared at her profile.“Definitely.”
She glanced over at him, a delighted smile covering her face.“You are such a flirt.You hungry yet?”
“Starved.And you are more beautiful than anyone or anything I’ve ever seen.”He took her hand and they continued through the crowd.“There’s a ChristKindl Market here.Did you ever eat at one in Germany?”
“I did.Best brisket I’ve ever had, and that’s saying something.I used to eat at Dave’s in Mobile.”
They waited in line, chatting about German Christmas, a festival she went to in the Black Forest, and the uniqueness of that region.Laughter and muffled carols swirled around them, a merry cacophony blending with the chatter of the crowd.The savory smell of the smoky char of grilling meat contrasted with the sweet smell of cinnamon-dusted nuts from nearby stalls.
Soon, they carried beef sliders with onions on rye buns and small paper cups filled with a warm, spiced cider to a nearby picnic table.
Jerry waited for her to finish adding pepper to her fries, then held his hand out to her.She asked, “Okay if I say grace this time?”
