I give him a curious look. “What is it?”
He takes my hand. “A week ago yesterday, I left Southern California thinking how much I wanted it to rain this week. And it really only did that one day, when we got caught in it, and I didn’t even notice.”
“I love a good rainstorm,” I say happily, squeezing his fingers. “Maybe when we come back next year, you’ll get the downpour you wanted.”
“Oh, Goldilocks, don’t think for a second that I didn’t get exactly what I wanted this week. You in the sunshine? There’s nothing better.”
“There’s a lot of sunshine in San Diego.”
“That there is.”
I beam at him.
“Speaking of that, I probably need to warn you that my apartment isn’t anything compared to what you’re used to.”
“Do I look like a girl who cares about that?”
“No.” His mouth twists, like he’s holding in a laugh. “Okay, yes, you do. I’ve managed to keep this on the inside all week, but you understand that you look and act like a literal princess, right? Not a diva, but…all posh and poised.”
I bury my face in my hands. “I was trying to be cool.”
“What’s that, Miss Mumbles?”
“I wastryingto becool,” I repeat, lifting my face and pointing my chin in his direction.
“The lock picking was very cool, if that’s any consolation. And I mean, the ‘trained to be a diplomat from birth’ thing was also very cool, just in a different way. Everything about you is impressive. But it’s hard to hide your true nature.”
“So I won’t make a good spy?”
“Abby, there’s not a chance in hell I’d let you do anything half as dangerous as being a spy.”
“Buzzkill.”
“That’s Daddy Buzzkill to you, Troublemaker.”
I pick his hand up off my knee and kiss his knuckles. “Okay, Daddy.”
He groans. “Speaking of that…my brother’s going to give me a bit of a hard time about the age difference between us.”
“What?” I laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”
“That’s what brothers do.”
“You’re hardly old.” I’m defensive already. “I won’t hire him to be my lawyer if he’s mean to you.”
“He’s my baby brother. He’s allowed to pick on me a bit. It makes up for fifteen years of his life where I was significantly bigger than him.” He slides a glance sideways at me. “But I’m relieved to know you don’t think I’mold.”
“Just old enough,” I tease.
“For what?”
“To take me over your knee?”
A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face. “Damn straight.”
* * *
It takes an hour and a half to get to Justin’s hometown of Conception Ridge. He drives me past his childhood home, where his brother lives now, then we park on Main Street. He points out what businesses are new since he lived here—a coffee shop called Wake Up Call, for example—and which he remembers from his childhood, like a dusty shoe store that looks like something from another time.