Then as we rounded a bend, colored lights spilled across the road casting playful shadows across people walking in both directions, talking and laughing. Remo slowed down as I opened a window, searching for the reason behind the sudden groups of people we hadn’t encountered on the way up. Music leaked into the night, distorted and joyful. A carnival sprawled beside the highway as if it had sprung up on a dare. Strings of bulbs danced in a gentle wind, a Ferris wheel turning slowly, bringing a smile to my face.
I glanced at Remo. “Can we stop?’’
“You’re not serious,” he grumbled, eyes cutting toward the lights ahead.
“Please.” That word. Soft. Dangerously childish.
He scowled, irritation already forming, but it faltered when he looked at me. Something unguarded flicked across his expression. He shifted his gaze to the windscreen, jaw tightening. “You don’t even know what you want,” he muttered.
Not sure to what he referred, I pointed at the fair. “I wantthat, for fifteen minutes,” I pushed, already unbuckling my seatbelt. My inner child was begging for a little carefree fun even if it was accompanied by him. “You promised dinner. This is dinner adjacent.”
“This is chaos.”
I smiled at him. “You run chaos.”
Remo exhaled, long and controlled before he slowed down. The engine idled, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. “You get ten,” he said, parking on the curb.
That alone felt like a victory. I climbed out, startling at how fast he’d exited and rounded the vehicle to my side. “I don’t do places like this.” His gaze tracked the crowd as if was mapping exits, measuring threats that didn’t exist. Always alert.
“You do now,” I said sweetly, drawing his gaze.
The corner of his mouth twitched. He looked like he was deciding whether this was worth the trouble I was about to cause him. “You’re going to get stepped on.”
“Protect me.” I shrugged.
That earned me a stare. Dark. Heavy. The kind that dragged heat up my spine, reminding me how he’d punished my sass.
“I always do,” he said, so softly I almost missed it before his hand settled on my lower back guiding me toward the entrance.
Music drenched the air in uneven bursts, laughter rose and fell around us, the smell of unhealthy deep-fried snacks, popcorn, cotton candy and donuts wafted up my nose. It was all so messy, loud and alive yet it took me back to my childhood. I couldn’t stop smiling but I noticed how Remo didn’t blend in as easily.
Men shifted unconsciously when we passed, bodies angling away, conversations dipping. I didn’t doubt some recognized him, their expressions giving them away. Remo moved with the same coiled awareness he did in a gunfight, one hand brushing the small of my back, his claim staked. Women on the other hand, didn’t steer clear, they drooled, their eyes widening, not out of fear but admiration. Some were bold enough to flirt with a smile, a look, an adjustment to their boobs.
He ignored them all, his eyes steadfast on me.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
Slowly, he shook his head, but his half-smile was all-consuming. “This makes you happy?”
I shrugged. “Brings back memories of my childhood.” I turned in a slow circle, breathing it all in. “This is perfect.”
He snorted. “You have low standards.”
I tugged his hand. “You’re just uncultured.”
He laughed. “I’ve been in three countries before breakfast, negotiated deals over graves, and killed men who didn’t know I understood their language.”
“And yet,” I sassed, pulling him toward a stall. “You’ve never thrown a ring over a glass bottle.”
His gaze flicked to the game then back to me. “I don’t lose.”
“Then you’ll love it.” I winked.
I played first. The bottle didn’t even wobble and I missed on all five tries. Remo watched, arms crossed, expression carved from stone, several women hovering in the background. But I caught it, the way his eyes softened when I laughed at myself, the way his shoulders eased a fraction when I didn’t care who was watching me.
“Your turn,” I said.
“I don’t need?—”
