Once the boat had taxied out of the harbor, the group of twelve had passed a couple of tiny islands on the way out to sea. It was a sunny day, and the varying shades of blue were almost unreal. This was where descriptive words like “cerulean” and “sapphire” came from.
John appeared to be enjoying himself, too, but he was watching her more than the scenery. She wished she was a mind reader. His expression—at least when he looked at her—didn’t reveal much. Every now and then, when he wasn’t watching her, she would catch him glancing at the captain of the boat. It wasn’t too difficult to guess what he was thinking then—he wanted to be at the helm. If what she’d read about SEALs was true, she suspected John would be the far more skilled of the two.
She was still smiling as they got rid of the dry suits, which looked more like puffy coveralls, and walked away from the dock. The boats left from the canal area of Nyhavn, where they’d had dinner last night, which was probably how he’d gotten the idea.
“I take it you had fun?” he asked.
If she’d had dimples, they would have been dimpling. “That was a blast. Well, except for the nearly-flying-out-of-the-boat parts.” He gave her a sidelong glance with a very skeptical lift of one eyebrow. “Oh, all right, those parts were fun, too. Although I noticed that you didn’t seem to have as much problem keeping your seat.”
“Age and experience, little one.”
She rolled her eyes at his tone. “More like body mass again.”
He grinned back at her. “Maybe a little. But you haven’t ridden in an RIB with your brother. He can take one of those things sideways and almost flip it....”
His voice fell off, and a shadow crossed his features as he realized what he’d said. Can. Present tense.
She put her hand on his arm, experiencing that same overwhelming desire to comfort him she’d felt last night. Her heart had never felt this big before. “I miss him, too,” she said.
He held her gaze for a minute before turning away.
That was the only acknowledgment she got before he started to walk again. He took the narrow set of stairs to the street level and held his hand out to help her up. She took it even though she didn’t need it.
But she wasn’t ready to let the moment go. “Maybe you could show me how he did it sometime,” she said. He glanced in her direction again, his expression neutral. She was feeling a little silly. A little like she’d ventured out too far into the future. “I saw the way you were eyeing the wheel. I was surprised you didn’t offer to take it from him.”
Apparently relieved that she hadn’t been talking about at home—which she had been—he smiled. “I did. I offered to pay him the kroner equivalent of a hundred bucks if he let me take it for a spin, but he said he’d be fired if anyone found out.” He shrugged. “It was worth a try.”
They’d reached the building where they’d met the group for the RIB tour. It was a restaurant, which hadn’t been open earlier. It was now.
She turned on him with an exaggerated groan. “I’m sure this isn’t a coincidence?”
A flash of very white teeth appeared in a very wide grin. “You mean lunch? I hope you are hungry.”
She had been. “Only you would find Mexican food in Denmark.”
“The world’s greatest cuisine is everywhere, Brit,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulder to lead her inside. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up too high though. This place is supposed to be the best in Copenhagen, but Europe and Mexican food don’t always mix right.”
She groaned again in case he hadn’t heard her the first time. “Then why are we going here?”
“One thing you need to learn about me is that I’m an eternal optimist when it comes to Mexican food.”
She gave him a sidelong look. “You sure it isn’t more like an addict needing a fix no matter how bad the crack?”
He laughed, pulling her in a little closer. “Yeah, well, maybe that, too.”
She liked the feeling of his arm around her a little too much. It felt right. It felt strong and protective, as if it could stay there forever.
She heaved a dramatic sigh. It wasn’t capitulation, she told herself. “All right. But this time you aren’t ordering for me. What was that nasty soup you got me last time?”
“Menudo. And you liked it at first.”
She made a face. “Until you told me what it was, and then I nearly threw up. I’m not eating cow stomach again—or whatever nice word you called it by.”
“Tripe. Duly noted, but I didn’t realize you were so pedestrian.”
She knew he was baiting her, and it was kind of working. “Only when it comes to food.”
She hadn’t meant it provocatively, but when their eyes met she knew that’s how he’d taken it.
