The Hitter, His Wife, Her Dog, and the General Job

The days when she would be occupied for some or all the day were running short, so he had to move fast. Wednesdays were her longest day at school; she was barely out the door when he made the call.

“General Flores,” he said. “I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”

“Spencer! It is never a bad time, my friend! I hope things are well with you!”

“Very well,” he confirmed. “I sort of called to ask a favor.”

“For you, anything!”

“I was hoping to come for a visit, starting in January,” he began.

“This is excellent news! You must stay with my family!” the general offered. “We will be so pleased to have you! I have a new grandson for you to meet!”

“Congratulations, sir! But I’m afraid that would be asking too much. See, I’ll be there on my honeymoon. I’m bringing my wife.”

There was a long silence while the general absorbed this news.

“This is incredible! Congratulations to you, my friend! I insist upon meeting her!”

“You will, sir. But she’s the reason I’m calling. See, she has this dog. And I’m planning a long trip; she won’t want to leave him behind. I hate to ask if you can pull some strings so her dog doesn’t have to stay in quarantine?”

“What kind of dog?” General Flores asked, reaching for a pen and paper. Spencer’s request shouldn’t be a problem. “She has, how you call, a purse dog?”

“No sir,” Eliot said, with a look at Devil. “He’s huge. He’s a German Shepherd.”

The general set his pen aside.

“This is a very large dog,” he agreed gravely. “Let me ask you, Spencer, could this dog be considered a military dog?”

“He’s smart enough to be, but he isn’t.” Devil woofed in agreement from the living room.

“This may be, as you say, our little secret. Let me make some inquiries,” Flores offered. “I will call you back.”

“Tomorrow, sir?” Eliot requested. “I know it’s late there.” Plus, by the time he got around to calling back, Ophelia could be home. Eliot didn’t want to present this to her without a solution.

“Tomorrow it is. I look forward to seeing you again, Spencer!”

“I look forward to seeing you too, General.”

It was three days later when they got everything settled with the I’s dotted and the t’s crossed, and at the end of it Eliot remarked to Devil it would have been easier to rearrange D-Day to accommodate a cruise ship. Devil gave the doggy equivalent of a shrug, because he was confident Ophelia wouldn’t leave for an indefinite period of time and leave Devil behind. He was equally sure Eliot knew that and would fix it, because Eliot fixed things, especially if they concerned Ophelia.

She had been out shopping with Melanie, but after Ophelia had blushed all the way to the roots of her hair, he hadn’t asked any more questions about what they were shopping for today. Melanie was by far her most outrageously outspoken friend, and she did not hold back on her opinion of Eliot, nor did she keep her questions about him to herself. On the very few occasions he had actually teased a comment out of Ophelia, he’d been left speechless. Neither of them had known that was a possible response. There was a lot of drinking on these shopping trips, he suspected, which didn’t help in the way Ophelia optimistically believed it would. He had learned to be prepared. When she arrived home, hands full of shopping bags, he traded her for a cocktail.

“How was Melanie?” he asked. He was being polite.

“She sends her regards,” Ophelia answered. “If I can work up the nerve later, I’ll try to demonstrate exactly what they were. But I’m not a gymnast.”

“Understood.”

She bent to rub Devil’s ears before settling in on the couch with her drink.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked. “This is really good, but it seems fancy for a game day.”

She was right: game day fare was usually something predictable like pizza or hot dogs (but never wings, because they both agreed wings were a waste of effort) and beer (for him) or Coke (for her, because she thought the taste of beer was hideous), not fizzy cocktails. Not that she was complaining. She took another sip before checking in on the game in progress and the scores along the bottom.

“I thought we’d celebrate,” he said. “I got you something.”

“Did you really? Game day and presents? I love today!”

He grinned and handed her a copy of the latest San Lorenzo guidebook.

“What is this?” she asked as she flipped through it. “Other than well illustrated, I mean.”

“I got you a honeymoon,” he said, putting one arm around her shoulder. “In San Lorenzo. Have you been there?”

“I haven’t,” she answered. “Have you?”

“I have, and I think you’ll like it” he nodded. She tried very hard not to raise an eyebrow at him, which he felt merited some explanation. “I did some work on a presidential election there once.”

He would have been crazy to think she wouldn’t have questions.

“I helped their current president get elected,” he explained. He had. Sort of. “And I have a friend in the cabinet there. He’s the minister of defense. And he can’t way to meet you.”

She nodded, indicating that he should go on, because she doubted her real questions would get answers.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I got us a villa in the mountains, but it has access to a private beach. Plus, we can drive over to Italy or over to France or to Monaco. I don’t think we’ll be there for the Grand Prix, unless you want to stay that long.”

“Oh. How long did you plan to stay? A week? Two weeks?”

“Winter,” he proposed. “Because I can’t imagine you love winter in Portland, Princess. But this way we’ll have a beach, and no snow, and a great place to stay. What more could you ask for?”

“You,” she grinned, before looking down to where Devil was sitting at her feet. “What about Devil?”

“I’m glad you asked,” he said. “I talked to General Flores, my friend in the cabinet. Devil is going to leave here a couple of days before us on a troop transport plane with a group of other dogs going to Aviano.” He waited for her nod that she understood. As someone who assessed risk for a living, he fully understood this was the riskiest part of his plan. “Then the general is going to meet him and escort him back to San Lorenzo, so he doesn’t have to abide by the 30-day quarantine, because I didn’t think either of you would care for that. So we’ll get there on the 4^th, then meet Devil and General Flores on the 5^th.”

“Okay?”

“A day to make up for the jet lag,” he explained. “Plus arrange a car and clear customs and all that annoying stuff that has to be done.” He found it truly annoying that he couldn’t avoid any of it. And he’d tried.

“Why are they flying dogs on a troop transport plane?” she asked, not unreasonably. “And whose dogs?”

“Army service dogs, and it’s easier to hose out a transport plane than a jet,” he shrugged, missing the point of her question. She let it go. “But there are about two dozen other dogs going, and a friend of mine was going to Italy anyway, so he’s going to be Devil’s diplomatic escort.”

She leaned back against the sofa cushions and crossed her feet at the ankles.

“Because if anyone asks,” he continued, “Devil is a diplomat’s dog who is necessary for her safety.”

She sipped her drink.

“And I got you a new diplomatic passport, because a diplomat doesn’t travel under a regular passport.”

She toyed with the empty glass, well aware that the passport was more than likely a forgery. She’d address that later, maybe. Once they were on a sunny beach with drinks with tiny umbrellas in them, maybe she’d ask.

“I pictured this going differently,” he admitted.

“Your friend who’s escorting him, will he be leaving from here too? Or are they picking him up somewhere else?”

“He’s coming out here,” Eliot said, not adding that he’d gotten an earful about it from Col. Vance, who had not been planning to fly from the west coast. “And I’ll need copies of his vet records. But they take those for all the dogs. Not just Devil.”

“Why don’t you invite him for dinner the night before they leave,” she suggested. “I’d very much like to meet him.”

He could already tell there was no way out of that for either of them.

It didn’t take her long to adjust to the idea of wintering on the beach, or to come to him with questions about San Lorenzo specifically. True, most of her questions were about wardrobe. She laughed off his initial assessment that she wouldn’t need a lot of clothes, pointing out that if they were going to meet his friend the general and the general’s family, she would definitely need something appropriate. While he had to agree, he didn’t have to be thrilled about it.

After that, if she went shopping with Melanie, it was for resort wear, power adapters, and a spare hard drive, which meant Eliot had to endure a meal with Hardison where he nerded completely out and took Ophelia with him. Really, he was glad that Ophelia and Hardison could have these talks and both understood that he didn’t necessarily need to hear any of it. Really.

“This place you got for us, it has power, right?” she asked one morning. She was sitting in the living room with her typewriter on her lap, editing the final copy of her manuscript. The book would be published while they were gone, but if she could finish this round of edits fast enough, she’d have a couple of ARCs to take with her. Which made Eliot happy, because he wanted to know what happened next and she remained frustratingly close-mouthed about it. He had tried everything he had on her (everything he was willing to try on his wife, in any case), yet she hadn’t given up a single word.

“Yes, Princess,” he assured her. “You’ve mentioned that you hate camping.”

“It’s not that I think it’ll be like camping,” she answered, confident that he would not have planned an indefinite camping trip and expected her to go along. “It’s that sometimes when you go to small countries, parts of it don’t have power all the time.”

He was also aware of her feelings on many, many islands in the Caribbean, and at first found it extremely difficult to believe she’d been kicked off more than one of them for protesting tourist-industry slavery. Of course, knowing that his sweet, pretty wife who rarely even raised her voice had attempted to start violent overthrows of the government in at least two places made him beam with pride too.

“San Lorenzo isn’t as rich as Monaco, but they’re still a pretty wealthy country. You’ll have power,” he assured her. “Why? What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking it might be a good place to get some writing done,” she admitted. “Internet access too?”

“Let’s just pretend for a minute that you don’t know anything about Hardison,” he began.

“Oh. Was he there too?” She seemed surprised. “Then I’m asking the wrong person.”

With that, she had reached for her phone to call him, which was how Eliot ended up making dinner for Hardison and Parker one night while Hardison consulted on what kind of peripheral equipment would best meet her needs. But since they were there anyway and Eliot couldn’t avoid it, he discussed extra security for while they were gone. No need to come back to a house full of squatters or raccoons or something worse. He thought. Then Hardison asked for Ophelia’s cell phone.

The eve of Devil’s departure arrived, as everyone had known it would. Eliot drove out to meet Col. Michael Vance and bring him back to the house for dinner.

“This whole wife thing is a code, right?” Vance greeted him. “It’s a cover for something you’re doing that’s probably illegal and this whole bit with the dog is just a way to get something smuggled out of the country, right?”

“Get this out of your system now,” Eliot suggested. “Because Ophelia, my wife who is a real person, is an absolute stress ball about this. And if you mess up my honeymoon after I’ve done all this planning, I’ll need to kill someone and it might as well be you.”

“You actually talked a woman into marrying you? Where did you find her? Are you sure she’s not a foreign agent?”

“Dude, she’s from Georgia.”

“Perfect. You married a Communist! Way to go, Spencer!”

“Not that Georgia! This one. The one here. She’s from Savannah. And she was a professor but she retired.”

“Retired.” He just let the word sit there. “You married an old woman who retired?”

“Like a week ago, so she’s had a bunch of extra time to think of all the ways this trip could go wrong. And she’s not old.”

Vance fully didn’t expect there to actually be a woman or a dog at the end of this car trip.

He was stunned at both. Devil greeted him politely with a handshake, while Ophelia…

“This woman is not your wife, Spencer. Ma’am, if he’s holding you hostage can you please blink twice?”

“You must be Col. Vance,” she smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. I hope you had a good trip.”

He turned back to Eliot.

“Not a chance.”

“Shut up.”

Devil went outside with the two men to watch them grill steaks and also to make sure they grilled him one. Ophelia cooked the side dishes and made notes to herself on everything she still needed to pack, because they were leaving in two days. She was now down to the panicking part of packing.

She didn’t wait until dinner was over to start asking questions of Col. Vance, who was both impressed at how thorough her questions were, and a little disturbed by how thorough her questions were. More than once, he threw a glance at Eliot, who did nothing but shrug. It was her dog, Eliot warned him. She would not be placated or overruled or hand-waved on these travel arrangements. And she would be a bear for details.

By the time everything was (exhaustively) explained, they had reached dessert and drinks, and Eliot had put on a pot of coffee.

“Satisfied?” Vance asked, with only a hint of an edge to his voice. In the short time he had been around them, he had figured out that neither Eliot nor the dog would hesitate to kill him where he stood if he acted out of turn with Ophelia. And he wouldn’t have guessed that Spencer even understood the idea of “out of turn”.

“Yes,” she answered. “Of course, I’m also satisfied that if something happens to my dog and he ends up in Afghanistan, you two will go retrieve him.”

“You’re right,” Eliot nodded. “If it comes to that, we’ll go get him back.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she smiled. “Devil and I are going to look at the closet to see if I need to pack anything else. Will you be staying with us tonight, Col. Vance?”

“I…”

“Yes,” Eliot supplied.

“Then I’ll see you in the morning. But holler if you need anything.”

With that, she and the dog disappeared down a side hallway that led to…he wasn’t even sure what.

“Because she’ll cry all day if I take her to the airport to watch you leave,” Eliot said. “Better if you just leave from here.”

“I don’t believe for a second that girl married you,” Vance replied. “And I notice that you didn’t tell her there’s a huge reward for just your head in Afghanistan, so you going in, retrieving a dog, and getting back out alive seems unlikely.”

“Then you better make sure he ends up with General Flores,” Eliot said. “So that it doesn’t come to that. And no, she doesn’t know I can’t go to Afghanistan.”

“Bet that’s not all she doesn’t know,” Vance muttered.

Very late that night, Eliot went down to Ophelia’s closet to find her and Devil on the daybed.

“Oh,” he said. “I mean, I knew you’d be here.”

“You said he couldn’t sleep in our room unless there was a thunderstorm,” Ophelia explained.

“Rules are made to be broken. Come on.”

Fortunately for everyone, they left for the airport so early Ophelia wasn’t up. She did wake up long enough to press a kiss between Devil’s ears and tell him to be a very good dog for Col. Vance. He licked her on the face before sprinting out of the room. Eliot bent to kiss her on the forehead.

“I’ll be back,” he said softly. “You don’t need to be awake before that. The sun still won’t be up.”

She looked out the door.

“We’ll see him in two days, I promise.”

For all that he was an actual tough guy, not just a guy who pretended to be tough but folded like cheap cardboard under pressure, he couldn’t stand to see Ophelia cry either. His exit from the room was pretty hasty, too.

“You’re sure this Flores guy is going to meet us in Aviano,” Vance asked. They stood on the tarmac while a bunch of enlisted men wrangled the dogs onboard the plane. Eliot was glad he was taking a separate flight, because the ramp was noisy as hell. He couldn’t imagine being confined in a small space with all these dogs. And they were all very smart, very well trained dogs who could cause all kinds of intelligent trouble. Honestly, if the cockpit door didn’t lock, he and Ophelia would be watching the news tonight about a plane full of dogs landing at then overrunning a dog food factory.

“I’m sure,” Eliot said. “And he’s already face-timed with Devil, so he knows which dog to look for. Don’t try to pass off just any German Shepherd as her dog,” he warned. “She’ll want to kill you and I’ll have to let her. Got it?”

“I can’t thank you enough for this, Spencer. I could have flown over on a military jet with cocktail service. I’ll have to burn this uniform by the time I get to Italy.”

“I owe you one,” Eliot said.

“We’re square,” Vance assured him. “I heard about Berednikov. You saved me a bunch of trouble.”

Eliot was in such a bad mood when he left the airport, he stopped at two different drive-throughs on the way home. The first was to get a drink for Ophelia to take her mind off things and a drink for himself so he could calm down. The second was to get another drink for Ophelia because it took him so long to shake the bad mood the first one he got for her got cold.

She was relatively quiet until they were in the back of a hired car headed to the airport the next day, although she’d occasionally pop out of somewhere unexpected to ask him a last-minute question. Finally, the afternoon of their departure got there. Eliot felt like he’d aged a hundred years since telling Ophelia about this trip; he couldn’t wait to get going. Judging strictly by the fact that she’d barely sat down in almost 48 full hours, he hoped she was excited too.

“The private terminal?” she asked quietly. “Really?”

“San Lorenzo doesn’t have a really big airport,” he explained. “So we could have flown commercial to somewhere like Nice and driven over. Or we could not fly commercial and have some much better options.”

“Like not flying with 500 other people?” she asked. “I’m not sure where that falls on your list.”

“It’s close to the top,” he admitted. “But also like not sitting 9 people across a row, unless it’s more. Not having someone’s kid kick the back of the seat for 12 solid hours. Not having to sit in a seat designed for short aliens.” He had another reason, but he’d wait to see if she figured it out herself first, or if he got to tell her.

Hardison had found the jet-share companies were laughably easy to hack, especially given their haphazard record keeping and the fact that, to dodge a lot of restrictions, they called all their passengers ‘owners’. Finding them a non-commercial flight to San Lorenzo had taken him maybe 20 minutes. Of course, Eliot had to listen to him brag about it for another three weeks.

“What are we taking?” she asked.

“A G5? Does that sound right?” It must have been right; she looked really impressed.

“Oh, gosh. That’s incredible.”

“You know things about airplanes?” Of course she did; her grandfather had been a pilot. For all he knew, she could fly one herself. (She could.)

“Several, but Gulfstream does all its maintenance in Savannah,” she said. “Sometimes if someone really wealthy brought theirs in, the paper would do a feature on it.”

“Of course.”

Their pilots leapt to attention when they entered the private terminal, reaching for bags, offering services, and generally being a little annoying. But for what someone was paying them, they were doing an excellent job. They separated out the luggage for the hold and the luggage Eliot and Ophelia wanted to carry on while the two stood out of the way and watched.

Finally, the chief pilot came over to introduce himself and give them a quick flight briefing.

“It’s roughly 12 hours to San Lorenzo,” he informed them. “So we’ll stop in Gander to take on fuel and change crews. But you’ll stay on the same aircraft. Dinner is waiting, and there’s a small cabin if you feel like sleeping. We should have pretty smooth weather to Gander.”

“There’s no attendant, right?” Eliot asked.

“Per your request, there isn’t. We’ll show you where the food and drinks are and you can serve yourselves. In addition to the dinner and dessert you requested, there are plenty of snacks and drinks. You’ll also pick up some breakfast in Gander, and I would advise you to get off the plane and walk around for a while. I mean, you’ll have to deplane anyway while it’s getting fueled. But if you decide you want something that isn’t on board, let us know and we’ll request they have it in Gander. Do you have any questions?”

“Will we need passports in Gander?” Ophelia asked.

“No ma’am,” the pilot answered. “You’ll stay on the air side of the terminal. Customs may come on board, but since we’re not stopping along the way anywhere, they probably won’t bother. It’ll be a little bit early for them. But they’re in your carry-on, right?”

“They are,” she said. “I just like to be ready.”

“We appreciate that,” he smiled. “If you’ll give us about 15 more minutes to file our plan, we’ll be ready to go.”

They nodded as he hustled away.

“Now you see what I mean?” Eliot asked quietly, sliding his arms around her.

“Tell me.”

“Real soon, they’re going to tell us to turn off our cell phones. I will have 12 uninterrupted hours to have my wicked way with you, and there will be nobody to bother us. Nobody can call. No emails. You will be completely mine.”

“Mr. Spencer,” she answered in her best Scarlet drawl, which he thought was pretty damn good, “I shan’t have a shred of reputation left by the time we reach our destination. Whatever shall we do?”

“Build a new one,” he answered with a grin. “Get rid of whatever reputation you have left. I told you not to pack a lot of clothes.”

She had more or less taken his advice: for the flight she had worn tall boots and a sweater dress plus his jacket. He was already counting the ways he could get it all off. Of course, first they’d have to get through dinner; lunch had been light and also hours ago, because she’d been busy with last-minute items and they’d eaten all the fresh food so it wouldn’t spoil while they were gone. But this was almost the most complicated outfit she’d packed. Everything else was either beach wear or beach casual, except for ‘something nice’ (one of her regionalisms, he had found. She had packed something formal and something slightly less formal because she had no idea what to expect) to wear to dinner with General Flores’ family. And Eliot had promised they could go shopping in Monaco, and if she had overpacked there would be nowhere to put whatever she found there. Eliot had calculated the cost of another suitcase for ‘whatever’ they found in Monaco into his plans; his estimate of her ability to resist was, he was positive, accurate. She wouldn’t have the ability to say no to buying clothes in the land of Grace Kelly.

***Meanwhile in Italy*****

While Col. Michael Vance was aware that the concept of “far enough away to fuck with Spencer” didn’t exist, it didn’t stop him either. He led General Flores down a line of German Shepherds ready for inspection. The general walked the line twice, finally stopping at a dog with the equivalent of a huge tourist grin. He knelt to speak directly to the dog.

“You are Devil, the dog of Ophelia, yes?”

Devil thumped his tail on the ground and made his Ophelia sound.

“And you are also the dog of Eliot Spencer?”

Devil responded with his “hey! I know him!” bark that had become Eliot’s when Eliot became a consistent part of his and Ophelia’s pack.

“This dog,” General Flores said confidently.

Vance smothered a groan; the old man was right. Spencer had said the dog was smart, but not that it was damn near able to talk.

“Yes sir,” he said. “Here are all the papers Spencer sent with him. I hope that’s all you need, because that’s all I have.”

General Flores flipped through the stack like he cared what was in it.

“These should do nicely,” he answered. “I thank you, Col. Vance. I hope we will see you in San Lorenzo one day.”

“I hope that too, General,” Vance answered as he passed over Devil’s leash.

“Let us go to San Lorenzo, Devil Spencer,” General Flores boomed heartily. They piled into the car. General Flores drove. Devil sat in the front seat. The very confused sergeant who had been assigned the task of driving this trip sat in the back seat and considered all of his life choices, especially the ones that led to his taking a backseat to a foreign dog.

It was nearly 6 pm in San Lorenzo when they deplaned and cleared customs. A young man in a military uniform loitered near the desk. Eliot saw him; Ophelia didn’t. She was barely even awake.

“Sit down here,” Eliot offered. “I’ll see if I can find someone to rent us a car or call a cab or something.”

“Excuse me, are you Eliot and Ophelia Spencer?” the young soldier asked.

Eliot glared at him warily. At the top of his form, a glare from Eliot could paralyze a man. Today he was tired; the soldier stepped back but less than five paces.

“General Flores sent me,” the soldier stammered, trying to appear that he wasn’t giving ground before Eliot. “To take you to the hotel. With your bags.”

Ophelia flashed a smile at Eliot, thinking he had arranged this. While he had not, he appreciated she thought so much of his abilities to command soldiers in another country.

“We are,” she said. “Thank you so much!”

“You alone?” Eliot asked. The soldier stepped back again. “We have a bunch of bags.”

“No sir! I was just sent in to wait for you. If you point out your bags, we’ll get them. Right now!”

Eliot pointed out the luggage cart their pilots had loaded up, then reached for Ophelia’s hand. She hadn’t taken off her sunglasses even after they got inside.

“We’re here, Princess. Just got to check in at the hotel.” She kissed him on the cheek.

They rode over to the hotel in a blacked-out SUV. Neither the driver nor the sergeant spoke, but Ophelia couldn’t decide if they were following orders, or just reluctant to get on the wrong side of Eliot Spencer. Had she asked, Eliot wasn’t sure either.

“The Hotel Royale,” she read off the marquee. “They didn’t change it when they became independent?”

“They were a British colony until the ‘60s. This was the place to be up until then, and I think they didn’t want to mess with their streak.”

He didn’t point out the country was fortunate it hadn’t been renamed The Hotel Ribera during the previous president’s reign. But no need to mention that now, although he made a mental note to ask how or whether Ribera was these days. Trying to tip the soldiers proved to be an unsuccessful endeavor.

“We can’t, sir. There’s no tipping in the Army.”

“Of course,” Eliot said. 12 more or less uninterrupted hours with Ophelia had relaxed him to the point he had all but forgotten what he was doing. “I’ll put in a word for both of you to General Flores. Is that okay?”

“Great, sir! Thank you!”

“They seem young,” Ophelia observed as someone wheeled their luggage inside. She hoped it was someone associated with the hotel, but a 12-hour flight is long no matter how entertained a person might be. Plus there was a 9 hour time difference between San Lorenzo and Portland. She felt like she could sleep for a week.

“That’s who enlists in the army: young men.”

She gave him a long speculative glance while she tried to picture him as a younger man going into the service. She’d ask later.

“But then they get to defend this beautiful place,” she observed. “I can’t imagine there’s a lot of threat of invasion here these days.”

“We need to check in,” Eliot said to the desk girl. “We have a reservation for Dr. and Mr. Eliot Spencer.”

Ophelia leaned against him affectionately.

“You really like saying that, don’t you?” she grinned.

“I really do.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Spencer, there has been an issue with your reservation,” the desk girl said. Ophelia laid a hand on his arm when he tensed up. “Our manager extends his deepest apologies. Instead of the room you requested, we have upgraded you to the Presidential Suite. Will you accept this upgrade?”

Ophelia looked over the top of her glasses at him, suggesting that the sooner he accepted this upgrade the sooner they could get back to bed.

“We will,” he said. “I…thanks?”

“Again, sir, we do apologize for the mix-up.”

“It’s…okay?”

“How many keys, sir?”

“Two,” he said. “Can we talk to someone about renting a car here?”

“Normally the concierge would handle that,” the girl answered dispassionately. “But on Tuesdays she leaves at 4. She will be in tomorrow if you would like to speak to her then.”

“Great,” Ophelia said. “We appreciate that. Thank you. Do we need to make an appointment?”

“No ma’am,” she answered. “You may just call. She will be available.”

She smiled and passed their keys over, then gestured to a bellhop.

“Julio will take you to your suite,” she said. “Enjoy your stay!”

Opulent wasn’t even the word. The suite was majestic. Ophelia walked through, shedding her (Eliot’s) jacket, her purse, her sunglasses, and everything else she could let go as she breezed through the sitting room to the French doors that led to the balcony.

The bellhop pointed out some amenities to Eliot, managing to even capture about half his attention, pointing out the basket of champagne and snacks and the direction of the bedroom before Eliot pressed a wad of bills into his hand and shoved him politely out the door. Which he then locked before joining Ophelia on the balcony.

“What do you think,” he asked, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss into her shoulder.

“It’s beautiful. I love it.”

They had a panoramic view of the beach and the sparkling Mediterranean, the tourists, the casinos, and the yachts anchored just offshore. She was right: it was a picture out of a dream. They’d hardly had time to see any of it last time he was here, busy as they were with rigging an election, overthrowing a tyrant, and trying to avoid being killed by Damien Moreau. With none of that in place this time, Eliot expected the trip would be much more relaxing.

“Yeah, it really is. Tell you what: I’ll bring you the room service menu, then I’m going to call General Flores and make sure everything went okay picking up Devil. Pick us something good, okay?”

“Sure,” she yawned. “I’ll get it. I need my sunglasses out here anyway.” It was brighter than she had anticipated. They had left Portland after dark only to arrive in Gander before the sun came up. Portland in the winter wasn’t exactly a sunny, sparkling paradise. She felt like she’d spent an extended amount of time in a cave only to have the cave pulled back and the floor exposed to dazzling sunlight.

He went to the bedroom to call the general. Probably everything was fine, but just on the remote chance it wasn’t, he didn’t want to have this conversation where she could hear it.

“General Flores,” he said. “Do I have you to thank for our upgrade?”

“Spencer! It was no problem. The suite was not in use.” Eliot didn’t doubt that if the suite had been in use, they still would have been upgraded.

“Ophelia sends her thanks too,” he said. “She’s on the balcony. I think she’ll be busting out “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” if I leave her alone out there much longer. She loves it.”

“Very good! I cannot wait to meet her.”

“We’ll be over tomorrow,” he promised. “I assume there were no problems for you when you picked up Devil. You have him, right? Because if you don’t, I’m going to have to defect to another country before dinner gets here.” And take time out of running for his life to murder Vance.

Devil barked his Eliot bark in the background.

“He is here, and everything is fine. I must tell you, Spencer, I love this dog. He has been staying at the house these past two nights. He is very intelligent.”

“Stole food off the counter, huh?” Eliot laughed.

“He waited until it had cooled,” the general admitted. “Very clever. I see why she would be concerned. But he is here, and he is excited to see you both. Although after one more night, it is possible your Ophelia will have to fight my daughters for him.”

“We both appreciate you taking care of him, and we’ll see you tomorrow. What time do we need to be there?”

“No need to be early, Spencer,” General Flores laughed knowingly. “Perhaps you would like to meet me for lunch? I know a wonderful place I think you will enjoy.”

“They’ll let Devil come too?”

“For me, they will,” he answered. “I will send a car for you. See you tomorrow, Spencer!”

“Good night, General.”

Eliot wasn’t used to presidential suite treatment, so he was surprised to hear someone knock on the door as he passed back through the living room.

“Room service,” the man announced.

“Already?”

“Si, we were told to expect you, sir. Where would you like this set up?”

“Can we eat on the balcony?” he asked. “My wife is enjoying the view.”

“Indeed, sir. It is a very nice view.”

Eliot had counted: she had changed clothes four times trying to settle on an outfit for lunch. He couldn’t argue that watching her hadn’t been fun but couldn’t figure out why one meal would have her so stressed out either.

“Phee, it’s lunch. And it’s probably going to be outside. You looked fine two outfits ago.”

She huffed out a sigh of frustration he could hear from the bathroom. He was still on the bed, his hands behind his head. He knew he had time; she hadn’t started picking out shoes yet.

“Eliot,” she said in that patient tone that indicated she was losing her patience, “you talk about General Flores like he’s a god. I feel like how I look is important here.”

“Phee—”

“Have you heard yourself when you talk about him? I’m worried I didn’t pack anything nice enough, even if it is just lunch,” she continued. “And he’s the Minister of Defense for this entire country, so people will recognize him. Do you really want them to say later ‘oh, look! General Flores took a homeless girl to lunch!’ Do you?!”

“Nobody’s going to think you’re homeless, Phee. They’ll think you’re American.”

She sighed again before emerging from the bathroom in a skirt and sweater.

“What do you think?”

“I think I’d get a lot more out of this process if I helped you in and out of those clothes,” he offered.

Which was why she’d set the alarm for 9 am.

They walked into the Presidential Palace just before noon. The general had been watching from his upstairs window. Devil, who had been laying with his nose over the vent, perked up at the sound of heels on the marble floor down below. People had been coming and going all day, but Devil clearly recognized Ophelia’s footsteps.

“It is Ophelia, yes?” General Flores asked, waiting for Devil’s affirmative bark. “I will go bring her to you, and we will use the elevator to go downstairs. You might slip on the floor of the staircase, and we do not wish this, do we?”

Devil thumped his tail on the floor and grinned at the general.

“You’ve been here?” Ophelia asked, gazing around at the ornate building.

“A couple of times,” he shrugged. “It was no big deal.”

“Can we get a tour later, do you think?” she said quietly. He smiled at her.

“I’ll ask, Princess.”

Just at that moment, President Michael Vittori rounded the corner and nearly slammed into them.

“Excuse me,” he murmured before looking up from his papers to see Eliot. “Oh. It is…Welcome back to San Lorenzo, Mr. Spencer. Are…how are you?”

“Very good, Mr. President. I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Dr. Ophelia Mason,” he said. He had to say something before Vittori had a panic attack.

“A pleasure, Dr. Mason,” Vittori answered hurriedly. “You are not here with friends, Mr. Spencer?”

“We’re here for our honeymoon,” he said carefully. “Just the two of us.”

She could have sworn he looked relieved.

“San Lorenzo welcomes you both,” he said before hurrying off.

“You helped get him elected, right?” Ophelia whispered.

“Yup.”

“And yet he seems so terrified.”

“He’s a nervous kind of guy,” Eliot answered.

“Does it have anything to do with Sophie’s portrait over there?” she asked gesturing at the much larger than life-sized mural of a woman who was clearly Sophie Devereaux but titled “In Loving Memory of Rebecca Ibanez”.

“I’ll try to explain later,” he promised, hoping she’d forget by later but knowing she absolutely would not. He took a picture of the portrait; Sophie would be flattered, anyway.

General Flores hurried down the stairs to meet them, stopping two steps shy of the floor.

“It’s you!” he exclaimed, definitely not looking at Eliot. “You are OJ Mason! I have read your books! Spencer, how could you leave out this information?”

“You’re joking, right?” Eliot said to Ophelia, who was doing an admirable job of not looking stunned. “Really?”

“I am General Roberto Flores, Minister of Defense. It is my honor to welcome you to San Lorenzo, Dr. Mason! Spencer! You should have told me!”

“How many languages are your books in?” Eliot asked, still to Ophelia.

“Seventeen, but they speak English here,” she pointed out before turning a charming expression on their host. “I’m so pleased to meet you, General Flores. Eliot has spoken so highly of you. I am so excited to be in your beautiful country. And I hope Devil hasn’t been any trouble.”

“He has not,” the general replied. “But you must call me Roberto. Devil is very anxious to see you for himself, to ensure you have not been mistreated by the journey. Will you accompany me to my office? He waits there for us.” He held out his elbow for her to take, closing his hand over hers while Eliot followed, wondering how many times it was possible for this to happen.

Devil was a good and well-trained dog, so he sat as Ophelia and Eliot came through the door, but he bounced in place like a kangaroo.

“Hello, sweet baby!” Ophelia cooed, rushing to meet him. “Have you been good for the general? Did you have an exciting trip?” She ran her hands over him carefully to make sure nothing was bruised or broken. He licked her on the face before flopping down on the general’s rug for belly scratches.

“You married OJ Mason?” General Flores repeated. “Spencer, this is wonderful! Have you read her books?”

“I have, sir,” he answered, wishing his uncle could be there just for that moment.

“Do you know what happens in the next one?”

“She won’t tell me,” he shrugged. “I…I didn’t realize you were such a fan.”

“I have them all,” he boasted. “Even the British one with—”

“With the middle seventeen chapters printed upside down,” he finished, having heard the same thing from his Uncle Henry. “If you have any of them here, I’m sure she’ll autograph them for you. She loves to meet fans.”

Devil finally realized Eliot was in the room too, and came to sit at his feet, gazing up at him before offering him a paw to shake.

“Hey buddy,” he said, reaching to scratch Devil’s ears. “I’m glad to see you too.”

“Let me make a call,” General Flores requested. “I must change the restaurant for lunch. I did not realize I would be entertaining a writer today.”

“Oh, please don’t,” Ophelia begged. “I’m sure the place you picked will be great.”

“But it is not fancy,” General Flores protested. “It is off the beach, and not for the tourists, but it is still very humble.”

“I’m sure we’ll love it,” Ophelia assured him.

“We will, sir,” Eliot agreed.

“In that case, I must insist you join my family at my home for dinner,” he stipulated. “During your stay. You will be most welcome.”

“Perfect,” she said. Then she turned to Devil. “Get your leash, please.”

Devil pranced off to fetch it, happy to show off.

“I love this dog,” the general repeated. Eliot smiled.

Lunch at the general’s favorite bistro was as delicious as he’d promised and the light conversation centered mostly on Ophelia’s writing career. Which was fine with Eliot, the less said about how he and the general knew each other, the better. He had never volunteered the information, but Ophelia had never asked, either. After the first few mentions where no explanation was presented, she assumed she was better off not asking; she wasn’t wrong. And besides, Eliot was always glad to show her off to the people he admired. Although he sort of wished they would quit knowing about her in advance.

“I cannot wait for Blitzkrieg Bop! I have pre-ordered it already,” he informed her over drinks.

“Oh,” she said, her forehead creased in a frown. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to cancel your pre-order, could I?” she asked.

“I would never! It will be here in only four months!” General Flores seemed shocked at her question. He even turned to Eliot for confirmation of the clearly unreasonable request she had just made.

She reached into her bag, where she’d stuck an ARC copy before they left the hotel. She’d packed three, just in case.

“What if you could have it now?” she smiled. “Then you wouldn’t have to wait.”

Eliot thought General Flores might explode. If she asked for all of San Lorenzo’s military secrets, he would definitely tell her right now.

“But this is not possible!” he murmured.

“I got them the day before we left,” she said, producing a paperback copy. “And I haven’t even looked through it yet. But these are the copies we send to reviewers and bloggers and the beta readers, plus I check it one last time to make sure there aren’t any really glaring errors. I would very much like for you to have one.”

“Spencer, I love your wife,” the general said seriously.

“She has that effect on people, sir,” he agreed, with a wink for Ophelia.

“You will sign this?” he asked.

“I would be glad to!” She pulled out a pen before reaching for the book again, writing a short message on the title page.

“How do you plan to spend your time in San Lorenzo?” he asked, finally turning to Eliot.

“We’re avoiding the winter in Oregon,” he laughed. “She’s going to write. I hope she’s going to let me read.”

“You are working on the next one already?”

“The next one is mostly done,” she said. “My editor already has it. It’ll be out around this time next year. But I retired from teaching after we got married. I’m working on a new book that I hope my publisher will like.”

“Will it be like these?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “I taught American history, and this new book is about American superstition and folklore through the ages. I haven’t decided how I’m going to do it yet, though. I’m still in the “write it all down and see what’s interesting” phase. Maybe I’ll become Hemingway here,” she mused. “But hopefully not, because I really don’t like Ernest Hemingway.”

“But this is fascinating,” the general answered. Eliot was certain he meant it. “And to think! It could start in San Lorenzo! You made a very good decision, Spencer.”

“We’ll see,” she said. “Tell me about your family,” she requested. “Are you originally from San Lorenzo?”

The only thing the general enjoyed talking about more than Ophelia’s fictional world was his real one. The thought crossed Eliot’s mind that maybe he should have warned her, but she seemed interested, and it was a nice day on a shady porch with a cool breeze and Devil lying across their feet. Devil was so happy to see them both, he didn’t even whine to Ophelia for a snack. She was sitting within touching distance of Eliot, and while the general had her attention, he caught all the little secret smiles that were for him alone.

When one is the Minister of Defense, time spent at lunch has very little meaning. But the general suspected the Spencers would enjoy getting to their place.

“Where will you be staying while you are here, Spencer?”

“I found a villa between the mountains and the beach, General.” He pulled out his phone to show him the location.

“No no. This will never do,” Flores proclaimed. “This place I am familiar with. It is not what they claim. I shall find you a better one.”

Eliot, who had done a hell of a lot of legwork for this trip, started to protest, as did Ophelia. But the general would not hear their protests, insisting he knew of a better place.

“Here,” he handed a piece of paper to Eliot. “The address, and the directions. You will like this much better, I feel. And Devil will enjoy it as well. Isn’t that right, Devil?”

The dog yipped happily, because General Flores had ordered him crab cakes for lunch.

“You’re sure, sir?” Eliot asked skeptically.

“I am certain, Spencer. I would not lead you astray,” he assured them. “I would not wish my favorite author to write in the equivalent of a leaky garret, unless this is what she wishes?”

“It is not,” she confirmed. “I find it hard to write under trying circumstances, because I’m a lazy writer. I like to be comfortable.”

“I think you will find this place most to your liking,” he answered. “As for this place,” he turned to Eliot, “I will speak to the proper authorities. We cannot have people misrepresent San Lorenzo in this way. I thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

Eliot nodded, still with no idea how he’d been so completely misled.

“We shouldn’t keep you, sir. We need to go back to the hotel and see about renting a car,” he said.

“Nonsense,” the general answered. Again. Which was starting to annoy Eliot just a little. “I do not wish you would spend your money in my country this way. I will loan you one of my vehicles. We have several, and one will not be missed.”

“That one,” Ophelia said, pointing at the Jeep with no top. “As long as it has a top we can use.”

“It has a hard top,” General Flores answered. “I will have it installed and brought around to you. Then you will have the top if you wish to use it, but may remove it if you do not.”

“Great! May Devil and I stay and watch?”

General Flores seemed to be taken aback, but agreed with a word to the soldier on duty.

“To give you a minute,” she murmured to Eliot. “If you need one.”

“Thanks, Princess,” he answered, squeezing her hand. “Try not to flip the Jeep over, okay? I know how you and Devil get when you’re driving by yourselves,” he said, loudly enough for everyone to hear.

With that, he and General Flores excused themselves back to the General’s office.

“How’s Moreau?” Eliot asked once they were alone.

“I believe his trial is going poorly,” Flores said vaguely. “He has requested new representation.”

“Is he going to get it?”

“As you know, Spencer, this is a small country. Things come slow.”

“What about Ribera? He giving you any trouble?”

General Flores grinned.

“You would solve this problem for me even on your honeymoon, Spencer? Even with a wife such as yours here? You have made an excellent choice, by the way. You have not asked me, but I approve very much.”

“She chose me, sir. I’m very lucky,” he admitted. “And Devil likes me too, which is important for her.”

“It is a bad man a dog does not trust, Spencer. I have no doubt he likes you very much. He is a very intelligent dog. As for Ribera, we hear nothing from him. He stays to himself and is not a bother. And he does not receive visitors. We are watching.”

“That’s good,” Eliot said. “Let me know if that changes.”

“I apologize for changing your lodgings, Eliot,” the general said seriously. “But the place you had chosen was within sight of Ribera’s villa. He has kept, for whatever reason, a few of Moreau’s men. I did not think this place would be safe for you or for Miss Ophelia, and I do not wish her to feel anxiety in my country.”

Eliot nodded, less annoyed now.

“We will be watching Moreau’s men carefully while you are here, to ensure that you are not disturbed. And I will post some soldiers in the vicinity of your villa, just in case.”

Eliot rubbed a hand over his face.

“Should we go somewhere else?” he asked. He didn’t think Moreau still had any men. “I don’t want to leave San Lorenzo, but I don’t want to endanger Ophelia either. I hoped my life wouldn’t catch up to her. I’ve been worried.”

“You and she and Devil will be fine,” General Flores assured him. “I give you my word.”

The general leaned back in his chair to study his friend for a moment. Marriage clearly agreed with him; he looked younger now than even when the General had met him.

“You have retired, Spencer?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “I work with the same crew I did during Vittori’s election. How is he doing?”

“Easily managed,” Flores said dismissively. “He is a good man with good intentions, and he listens to advice. One cannot ask for more than this. But to my question, you do not seem at ease.”

“I planned for us to stay here a while,” he said. “I might get called in to work on a job. In which case she’d need to stay here alone.”

“If this is the case, you may call me,” General Flores offered. “I will offer her the choice of a visible soldier, or the safety of my home, Spencer. You care very much for her.”

“I married her,” he shrugged. “Of course I do.”

“People marry for many reasons, Spencer. Those who have the luxury to marry for love are lucky indeed. Do not take this for granted.”

The general peered out the window.

“I believe your chariot awaits,” he said. “She looks very happy.”

“I’m sure you can expect a call later about the number of times she broke the speed limit,” Eliot grinned. “I’m not saying you should tell the police, unless you want to warn them.”

“Spencer, I love your wife,” he chuckled. “I will see you again soon.”

They sped over the road by the beach with the windows down, and only an occasional protest from Devil, who didn’t care for sitting in the back seat. Once Eliot explained that Devil was lucky he wasn’t sitting on the roof due to the amount of room the luggage took up, he settled in with one last disgruntled woof. Eliot, basking in the warm sunny day zipping through a beautiful country with his happy wife, felt generous enough to let him have the last word.

Their replacement villa was not a disappointment. Ophelia stood in the entrance, staring.

“I would have been completely happy in the place you picked,” she promised.

“General Flores had some more updated pictures,” Eliot lied. “It was a lot more rundown. But thanks, Princess.”

He explored the excellent, top of the line kitchen and looked over the security system while she poked through the bedrooms with Devil at her side.

“I think this will be our room,” she sighed, taking in the view of the ocean from the balcony. Much like their home, there was a charming tree house vibe to this house. All the rooms had excellent views, but she liked this one best. She set her purse on the bed and left her shoes by the door before going to find Eliot.

“Do you like it?” he asked. “You think we can make this work?”

“I’m sure we can,” she answered. “I picked the room that looks over the ocean for us. Unless you’d rather have a view of the woods?”

“It’s all ours. We can have a different view every night of the week if we want to.”

“Perfect,” she chuckled. “Should we go check out the beach house?”

She unhooked Devil’s leash at the back door. He flashed a questioning glance up at them.

“Don’t get too far ahead,” Eliot said. “But go on. Make sure it’s safe.”

Devil bounded out the door, down the wooded trail to the beach, barking happily.

Eliot and Ophelia took the trail more slowly. Eliot was looking for possible security breaches. Ophelia admired the scenery and tried not to concentrate on Eliot looking for security breaches.

Before they reached the last turn of the trail, they heard the unmistakable splash of a happy dog leaping into the water.

“Sounds like Devil approves,” Eliot said. “What does a wet dog who’s been playing in the ocean smell like?”

“Still like a wet dog,” she grinned. “The water doesn’t…”

They’d rounded the final sweeping curve, coming out of the woods and into the courtyard of the nicest log cabin Eliot had ever seen, with a view of the lagoon that would have made a postcard maker weep with joy. Plus one radiantly happy, soaking wet dog.

It wasn’t so much a log cabin as one that appeared to be made of driftwood. Ophelia crossed the plank front porch to the vivid blue front door, pushing it open. Then she stood, staring in, with her hands to her mouth.

“Phee?” Eliot had gone past the house to the beach, mostly to make sure Devil couldn’t get out into the open ocean, failing to realize she wasn’t still behind him until he saw her on the front porch. When he put his hand on her shoulder, she jumped like she had forgotten he was there. He looked inside curiously.

The first thought he had was that whoever decorated this place had pulled it fully furnished out of Ophelia’s head. They lived together in a place she had largely decorated, and it still looked less like she’d put it together than this place did. It had everything a writer could want, including sky lights over the living room, a wall full of books, a large antique desk with plenty of interesting-looking drawers next to an outlet, and a giant bay window seat filled with fluffy cushions looking out over the lagoon. There was also an inviting fireplace, not because it got all that cold, but if unlucky swimmers were caught in a sudden storm and needed to dry off quickly. He watched while she ventured further in, running her hand absently over the leather couch. Vintage San Lorenzo travel posters adorned the walls; there was just enough space and furniture for two people to be very cozy here.

In all, the beach cabin had two bedrooms and two bathrooms, an outdoor shower, and a tiny kitchenette with a two seat table that looked as if it had been relocated from a diner in a Doris Day movie. The whole place looked as if it had been teleported from a 1950s film; the muted palate of blues and burnt oranges and light greens against the golden palm floors had a glamour to it he wouldn’t have expected from something called a beach cabin. In the clothes she had finally decided on for lunch, standing in the light from the skylight, he’d almost never seen her so totally belong to a place.

She returned to where he was still standing just inside the door, where he gathered her up close.

“Promise me,” he said softly, “that you’ll at least come back up to the main house sometimes so I can cook for you, okay?”

“You like it too?” she asked tentatively. “Because this is supposed to be for both of us.”

“I like it too, Princess. I’m glad you like it.” Devil bounded up on the porch to bark at them expectantly.

“Is there any way he’s not going to shake off all over us?” Eliot asked.

“Not a chance. And he knows what an umbrella is, so don’t bother.”

“Dogs are programmed to do that, right? It’s not just this one?”

“They like to share,” she assured him. “I am pretty sure Devil doesn’t understand why you don’t shake off all over the room after you take a shower.”

“I—”

“Nope.”

“Want to check out the water?” he asked. “It’s right here.”

“Do you think anyone else has access to it?” she asked, following him off the porch while Devil darted around them, super excited to be going back to the water.

“I don’t think so, but I’ll ask the General,” he promised. “But I think he would have mentioned if we could expect to run into other people here.”

He estimated that the lagoon was about 20 feet deep at the deepest point, and there was a good-sized wooden pier in the middle, where an adventurous swimmer could sit and rest before coming back to the shore. The entrance was constrained by land on both sides; no large boats would be coming into their little harbor, and the water was shallow enough that it would run aground anyway. The deck, while decorative, was anchored to the bottom, and would be difficult to maneuver a craft of any size around; this was probably intentional. Anyone with a chart of the waters around San Lorenzo would know this bay was inhospitable and not be foolish enough to attempt it. Which meant he could breathe easier about Ophelia and Devil coming down here to play.

Ophelia stepped carefully into the water, walking in until it was up to her knees.

“This is perfect,” she said. “Completely perfect.” Shading her eyes with her hands, she looked towards the small inlet, which wouldn’t allow a large boat to pass. Then she turned back to Eliot. “Is there something you aren’t telling me? Like San Lorenzo is home to giant carnivorous eels that like shallow water and think tourists are tasty?”

“I’ve never heard about any people-eating eels anywhere, but definitely not in San Lorenzo,” he assured her. “And I feel like they probably would have mentioned it in the guidebook.”

“Because eels are evil,” she continued solemnly. “You can tell it in their nasty little faces.”

Having faced down more eels than she had, probably, Eliot felt the evidence was on her side. Eels were bastards. He joined her in the water after he stopped to roll up his pants.

“This is nice,” he agreed. “Want to go change into beach stuff and spend the rest of the day down here?” There were a ton of things they should be doing, like going to the grocery store so there would be food in the house or unpacking their suitcases before the clothes turned into diamonds from being compressed like that for so long. She had gone longer without checking her email in the past two days than he’d ever seen. And she would want to make sure the wifi was working in both the house and the cabin. All of that could wait, he decided, while they had some vacation time out in the sunshine on this pretty lagoon with their dog and no interruptions.

“I super do,” she nodded. “I packed sunscreen and everything. Because there’s no need for us to look like cooked lobsters on the first day. Oh! Do you think there might be lobsters in here? Could you cook fresh lobster for dinner?”

Knowing full well she wouldn’t hang around in the kitchen while he cooked live lobsters, he smiled anyway because her thought had gone directly to something he’d like. Both of her thoughts, actually. He would not have considered needing sunscreen, although he would have been concerned about whether or not she burned easily.

He sloshed over to her, pulling her close to whisper in her ear.

“Or we could send Devil back up to the house and skip bathing suits,” he teased. “We’re adults. We can do that.”

He had been reasonably sure she wouldn’t buy wholeheartedly into that idea, but it never hurt to ask.

So he was surprised when she whispered back, “Or we could do that tonight. Bring drinks and towels and do shore patrol?”

“You’re right,” he answered. “It’s perfect.”