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She launched herself into her brother’s arms, and he caught her up, pulled her into his embrace.
“Wow, you scared me, sis,” he said, low and gruff into her ear.
“Ditto.”
He put her down, held her arms, looked her over.“What are you wearing?”
“I like it,” she said.“Peace, man.”She held up two fingers.“Love, not war.”
“I’m for that.”Declan reached out and took her hand.“Mo, can you take us home?”
Mo had come up, now raised an eyebrow.“Um.Where’s home?”
She sighed.Because, well...“Still no sign of theFancy Free?”
Mo looked at her.“Oh, Hawkeye found her.She was spotted by a US Coast Guard cutter down by Jamaica, man.”
“Can I suggest a trip to Miami?”Declan looked over at Colt.“I need to finish some business.”Declan glanced at Austen.“And I think the lady needs to do some shopping.”
“What?”But she grinned.“Only if you’re buying.”She slid her fingers through his, holding on as they walked out to Mo’s plane.
“Do I get a say in what you choose?”
“Not even a little.”
He nodded.“Thought so.”
“Oh, Dec, you have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into,” Stein said, slapping him on the shoulder as he walked by.
Declan grinned, looked down at her.“Great.I love surprises.”
She laughed.“Me too.But,” she said as they waited to board the plane, “could we not get hijacked or bombed, shot at, or attacked by ground-to-air missiles on the way home?”
“Picky,” Mo said as he undid the ropes from the cleats.
Declan helped her inside.Settled next to her on the leather seats.Wrapped her hand again in his.
Then Mo pushed them away from the dock, and they skittered along the water and into the pale blue sky.
And maybe, hopefully, on their way to happily ever after.
TWELVE
It wasa perfect day for a happy ending.
Declan sat on a bench outside the Mariposa courthouse, sipping a cup of coffee, the palm trees rustling, the ocean combing the sandy shoreline, seasoning the air with brine.
He checked his watch.Should be soon now.
On Main Street, timber framing outlined the new bank, and new pavement already covered the street that had been swept away by the landslide.The sidewalk and beach were rebuilt too.And farther up in the community, new houses sat where the others had been torn from their foundations.
But best of all, he’d approved plans for the new trauma wing of Mariposa’s small hospital.
A couple kids ran by, holding surfboards, their hair and bodies wet, leaving prints along the sidewalk.
“I brought you a johnnycake.”
He looked up at the voice—Doyle Kingston.Tanned, wearing shorts, a collared T-shirt, and flip-flops.Doyle held out the pastry covered in powdered sugar, in a napkin.“Rosa says hello and to come by Hope House and get a real meal.”