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The hunt for Odran’s spies and scouts remained constant.
Though she’d have preferred to stay snuggled in the cottage with her work, Marco’s music, and whatever culinary magic he conjured in the kitchen drifting through the air, Keegan pushed her through daily training.
Every evening, she trudged back to the cottage wet, muddy, and bruised. She wore the sword and almost grew used to it.
On the first day some blue broke through the gray, she came out of her office to where Marco sat working.
She got herself a Coke, let Bollocks out for a run to the bay, then sat. She waited as Marco held up a finger.
“Another minute. Solid blog this morning, by the way.”
She said nothing, just studied him as he worked.
He had his long braids tied back and wore the red sweater Finola had knitted him. His black high-tops tapped to some inner tune as his clever fingers raced over the keyboard.
“And there we go. Got your daily social media posts up. I’m thinkingif they can bring Darling over one day, I’d get some shots of her and Bollocks, ’cause I’m betting you’re going to add her to one of his adventures sometime soon.”
“You know me so well, and that’s a great idea. I couldn’t do this without you, Marco Polo.”
“Oh hell, girl, you’d write the books and the blog.” He picked up his tall glass of fizzy water. “But you sure wouldn’t shine as bright on Twitter.”
“You’re going to do a cookbook.”
“I am?”
“You read the comments on the blog, and the asks for recipes whenever I mention something you’ve cooked or baked. I can help you—not with the cooking and baking, but with the text and the photos—and I’ve already asked my agent what she thought.”
“Well, Jesus, Breen.” He scrubbed at his face. “You know how I cook. Try this, try that, how’s it look, smell, and all that.”
“And that’s just how you should do it, and Carlee agrees. I don’t want it to be work—more work for you. But I think you could have fun with it. Just think about it.”
“I guess I could think about it, but—”
“No buts. Just think. Anyway, a couple other things, if you’ve got the time for it.”
“We need to start over pretty soon.”
“I know, but a few things first. I should have Bollocks’s next book ready to submit in another six or eight weeks. Maybe. Pretty sure. Hope.”
“That’s great.”
“And I have an idea I can outline—I think—for the third. And yeah, it’ll introduce Darling.”
“I knew it!” He bopped his shoulders up and down. “You really need to let me read the one you’re finishing up. I can work little hints into social. Nothing major because we’re still seeding the first, and we want that to drop before we start seeding the second.”
“Listen to you with your publishing talk.”
“I like it. Never saw myself doing this for a living, but I like it.”
“It shows, and that’s good, because that leads me to one of theother things. I think, hope again, maybe early April we could take a couple days. We could surprise Sally for his birthday.”
His eyes popped. “Go to Philadelphia?”
“For a start, yes. See Sally and Derrick. And I’ll go to see my mother.”
He took her hand. “I’ll go with you.”
“No, I’ll be fine, and I’ll be ready. Then we’ll take the train to New York.”
