“Just stay and have your dinner first,” he said.
As if on cue, the young waitress appeared with a tray holding a dark green bottle, two clear silicone wine glasses, and two large sandwiches. She placed the entire load on the small table in front of us and handed it out.
“Shall I charge this to your room?” she asked.
“Two thirteen,” he said.
I didn’t want to remember the number, but it seemed the harder I tried to forget it, the more firmly it was imprinted on my brain.
“I thought hotels always skipped thirteen,” I said. “Bad luck.”
“I don’t believe in luck.”
A popping sound announced the opening of the cava, which the waitress poured into the glasses for each of us. I took mine and waited until she’d put the bottle in a small stoneware bucket and gone.
“Are we still celebrating?” I asked.
His dark eyes met mine, and for a moment we didn’t speak, he only studied my face. I was starting to grow self-conscious when he broke the silence.
“Every day’s a celebration, right? We’re alive?”
I smiled and nodded, tapping my glass against his. He put his down on the table and picked up his huge sandwich.
“We could’ve split one,” I said evaluating the size of mine. “Half would be plenty for me.”
He smiled. “But not for me.”
I gingerly took a bite and set the savory concoction back on the plate. The sharp cheese flavor filled my mouth, and I thought it was the perfect blend of tangy and salty.
“So you were a Marine?” I asked, watching him chew.
He nodded, swallowing. “Did my tour in Iraq during the first Gulf War.”
“You must’ve been just a boy!”
“Eighteen,” he said, lifting the glass and taking a sip of cava.
“And the special forces?”
“Did that for a while after, before I retired and went to the police academy.”
I nodded. “How long were you a police officer?”
“I wasn’t,” he said with a smile.
“But…”
“I bypassed that and got my private investigator’s license. In college I studied finance, and with the Internet taking off, I wanted to hunt down cyber-criminals. I worked in Law Enforcement Online a bit.”
“What’s that?” I studied his dark hair in the moonlight, imagining him in uniform, in the desert, fighting terrorists. It was an extremely attractive image.
“LEO is a branch of the FBI.”
“So you’re a special agent?”
He laughed. “No. I just worked there a little while.”
“What do they do?”