“He’s celebrating his birthday in the city.”
He raised a brow and said in a conspiring manner, “So you are...a woman...alone?”
She nodded, a giggle bubbling up. “That doesn’t mean you have permission to enter. I don’t allow miscreants in my store.”
“Miscreants?” He teased her with a wounded look and then pointed at her feet where Patches rubbed against her skirt. “You allow that cat in... I’d say I rate better than a cat.”
She picked up Patches. “He’s not just any cat. He’s my expert mouser.” She rubbed her cheek against the smooth orange hair on her pet’s head. “What is your specialty?”
“Why I can shoot a flea off a rabbit at fifty paces.”
She laughed softly. “There is no way you can prove that claim, Corporal.”
He grinned. “No way to disprove it, either.” Then he straightened, all amusement evaporating from his countenance and a tender expression entering his gaze. “I can’t believe how much those brown eyes of yours sparkle when you laugh.”
It was the first time he’d ever said anything so personal...and been serious about it. Although sometimes she’d catch him looking at her and she would wonder if, maybe, he was thinking those kinds of thoughts. But then, they never spoke to each other about it. This was a bit unusual. “What is it, Tom?”
“Something came up today. I want you to celebrate with me. Are you free?”
She lowered Patches to the floor. “Certainly.” Picking up her light pink shawl, something to keep her arms covered properly in public, she slipped it over her shoulders and then stepped through the doorway, pulling the door shut.
He waited on the steps. “I have something special planned. No questions, all right?”
“I thought you were on duty this evening.”
“I got permission to take a few hours off.”
He took her arm and led her to the pier where the water lapped at the pilings and the half-submerged boulders. He was quiet during the short walk.
“What’s going on?”
His blue eyes twinkled in a devilish grin. “No questions. Remember?”
A medium-size rowboat bobbed at the pier. He started down a short ladder, stepped into it and steadied her as she followed in her long skirt. She sat down in the bow, tucking her skirt around her ankles, while he settled on the wide wooden board in the middle of the boat. Behind him, he had stored a large basket that he’d covered with a thick blanket. From it the tantalizing aroma of fried chicken wafted over to her. Beside the basket, an armload of kindling and wood had been piled on the floorboards.
“A picnic?” She was charmed. Then she realized she’d never seen him in a boat. “Do you know how to row this thing?”
“I’ve had a trial voyage. Practiced a good five minutes.”
“And I can trust that we won’t capsize?” she said.
“With my life, miss. I won’t let you go under.”
“Well, that is encouraging, Corporal.” He was a good swimmer. She’d spied him once with a few other soldiers in a race across to North Island.
“No whitecaps. The water is smooth this evening.” He frowned at her then as if remembering himself. “Didn’t I say no questions?”
She smiled, enjoying the teasing. “And I’ll be back at a respectable hour?”
“Absolutely. Your reputation is my main concern.”
“Imagine that.”
She was quiet after that and leaned back against the boat, enjoying the tug and glide of the boat that hinted at Tom’s strong muscles as he pulled on the oars. The evening breeze cooled her skin—now so much cooler than it had been all day. She sighed, contented with how the day was ending after the unpleasant start with her brother and Preston.
“So, we are celebrating something. Hmm. Is it your birthday?”
He shook his head.
“That’s a relief. If it was, that would mean you shared it with my brother.”
“At the sour look on your face, I’m suspecting that that would not be good.”
“Definitely not good.”
“And you are asking questions again.”
“Well, you are always so quiet about yourself. For instance, besides not knowing your birthday, I know nothing about your family. Do you have sisters or brothers? What about your parents?”
He stopped rowing and let the boat glide. “I did. They’re gone now. My father was a sheriff in Tucson. My mother ran the house and painted landscapes, but mostly took care of her two men. No siblings.” He pulled on the oars again. “And that is all you are going to get for now. We have a celebration happening.”
In his short, clipped response she’d noticed his use of past tense. She had the distinct feeling that she would only dampen the mood by pursuing more information about them.
They reached the shore of North Island and Tom jumped out into the shallow wash. He tugged at the boat, scraping it up on the sand until she could alight without getting herself wet. He assisted her first and then grabbed the wood.
They didn’t really need a fire considering the day’s warmth, but it did make the picnic more special. A jackrabbit raised its head and stared at the flames for a second and then hopped away. She spread out the blanket on the beach and sat down. From here she could see a few whitewashed buildings in Old Town and also in La Playa. The strong smell of kelp that had washed up on the sand traveled on the breeze and mixed with the scent of burning wood from their fire.
Tom retrieved the picnic basket from the boat and plopped it onto the blanket. He sat down beside her and a spare grin slanted across his face. The small fire crackled and sparked, warming her face and hands, the light flickering and dancing in his gaze.
Her heart fluttered nervously. This was the most alone she had ever been with him. She felt safe, of course, but she also felt an intimacy unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Before, they’d been surrounded by other soldiers or her friends from church. This was different. His slightest shift of position, his gentle tug on her shawl to pull it back into place on her shoulders, all seemed so much more special alone like this. She placed her hands in her lap and waited.
“I was promoted today,” he finally said. “I am to be Corporal First Class under Lieutenant Cranston. We are going to be honed into a special team.”
A glow of happiness for him filled her. “But this is wonderful! It’s what you’ve always wanted! You’ve been waiting for this to happen.”
He beamed self-consciously. “It was taking them so long to notice that I thought they had passed over me. They said they liked my sharpshooting and the fact I can tell the good guys from the bad guys.” He tilted the basket her way, offering her first pick of the chicken pieces.
“I imagine it is a wonderful opportunity.” She hesitated a moment, thinking about what it might entail. “And perhaps dangerous?”
“Just about any other assignment is dangerous compared to this quiet post.”
“Your father would be proud,” she said tentatively, hoping for a little more insight into who Tom Barrington was.
“I hope so.” He seemed to contemplate her for a moment, then looked back at the fire, concentrating on the glowing flames. “I’m not the lawyer he wanted. Once he was gone, we couldn’t afford school. But I’m doing something that