“Hi—hola—do you speak English?”
“Yes.” And he sounds thrilled about it.
“Great. Um, I just missed that cruise ship.” I point at the rapidly shrinking vessel, now just a white speck against the blue horizon. “When’s the next boat to Mallorca?”
“Tomorrow morning. Ferry departs at seven, arrives at ten thirty.”
“Perfect. Can I buy a ticket?”
“Not here. You buy online or at the ferry terminal.” He gestures vaguely in a direction that could be anywhere from here to Portugal.
“Okay. And where’s the ferry terminal?”
He gives me an address in rapid Spanish that I immediately forget, then goes back to his phone.
Right. Super helpful.
I turn back to Brody, who’s leaning against the railing, the sun turning his hair almost gold at the edges. Behind him, the harbor is alive with activity—boats coming and going, tourists strolling along the boardwalk, a street performer juggling near a fountain.
I suppose, in the grand scheme of things, there could be worse places to get stranded. Maybe this won’t be a disaster so much as a…handsome—I mean, scenic—detour.
“So,” I say, walking back over. “Ferry tomorrow morning. I just need to find a hotel, figure out where the ferry terminal is, not lose my purse again?—”
“What if I showed you Barcelona?”
I stare at him. “What?”
“You’re stuck here for the night anyway.” He shrugs, but there’s something in his gray-blue eyes that makes my heart do that fluttery thing again. “I know the city pretty well. I could show you around. Make sure you actually make it to the ferry terminal tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be? Something to do? A life that doesn’t involve escorting tourists around?”
He pulls out his phone, and I see the screen light up with what looks like a dozen notifications—texts, probably, from whoever’s been trying to reach him all afternoon. He looks at the screen for a long moment, his jaw tightening slightly.
Then he deliberately puts the phone away.
“Nothing that can’t wait,” he says.
I should say no. I should absolutely say no. I don’t know this guy. He could be anyone. And I have a business to run, a sister to catch up with, a very carefully planned schedule that’s already in shambles.
But he’s looking at me with those eyes, and he just chased down a thief for me, and he walked me all the way to the port even though he clearly has somewhere else to be, and?—
“Okay,” I hear myself say.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I mean—” I laugh, running a hand through my wind-tangled hair. “Why not? I’ve already missed my cruise and given my sister a great story to tell at family gatherings for the next decade. Might as well make the most of it.”
His smile, that real, full smile, appears again, and something in my chest does a little flip. So…maybe it’s not just the adrenaline.
“All right, then.” Brody turns and gestures back down the dock. “After you.”
Brody falls into step beside me, and I’m hyperaware of everything—the way he adjusts his stride to match mine, the way his hand almost brushes mine and then doesn’t, the way he’s actuallyhere, present, not distracted or checking his phone or rushing ahead.
For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel…noticed.
