“Good, I would like to see them.”
And just that easily, she’d agreed to go with him. As Cuervo said, sometimes life was just that simple.
“First thing tomorrow,” he promised. “I’ll find them.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Can we pick up the dogs at Sunny’s on the way home tonight?”
He exhaled, hard, relief whooshing through him as they made plans, wove their lives together. “Of course.”
“And can you pick out a new name for Fang, please? I really don’t like it now that I know what it means.”
“Okay, we’ll call her Rocki.” In honor of the Afghanistan dog, Rocky. Yeah, that fit. It felt right. The way Rachel against his side felt right. “Rocki’s mine, you know.”
She smiled up at him, then winced. “Ouch.” She adjusted the ice pack. “Tomorrow, I’d like to drive down to Catriona’s place and get the rest of my dogs too.”
He frowned, weaving around an ambulance on his way to patient parking. “How many would that be exactly?”
“Don’t make me laugh. And don’t worry. Just a couple more, Tabitha and Ruby Two.”
“Four dogs total.” Sounded like a family to him. His chest clenched up a little more, but he wasn’t going to surrender to that fear. He was through self-destructing. “Cool. No problem. I can swing that.”
“Because you feel sorry for me?”
His arm twitched, pulling her tighter against him. Too tight. He forced himself to ease up. He ushered her deeper into the muggy parking lot, one foot in front of the other, his heart in his throat.
He stopped beside the rental Jeep—had to be theirs, because no way in hell were there two metallic purple Jeeps on the planet—and faced Rachel full on, frustration pushing the words out until they exploded into the night air. “Because I love you, damn it.”
“Well, good,” she shouted right back. “Because I love you too, damn it.”
Her chest heaved and the echo of their voices faded like sparks showering from the bolt of lightning he’d once seen skip through an airplane. Tingling. Singing, even. A little dangerous. Definitely scary.
But exciting as hell. She deserved to hear just how exciting. No assuming she understood. No repeating mistakes of the past. Rachel was a gift. She was his future.
He took the ice pack from her and held it to her jaw gingerly, careful not to hurt her.
“Rachel Flores, from the moment I saw you in the Bahamas I knew I would claim you. That may not sound PC or romantic, but I felt it”—he thumped his chest over his heart—“here. Right where you’ve stayed, no matter how much time we spent apart or even when you wouldn’t return my calls. I have loved you. I still love you. I want you in my life as my partner, my lover, and if you can bring yourself to trust me, I would be honored to be your husband.”
She clasped his face and said simply, “I love you, and I trust you. Now, and always. Lover, friend, husband.”
His forehead fell to rest on hers, relief and happiness threatening to send him to his knees. “Let’s go home, Mrs. Franklin.”
He felt her smile against the ice pack.
“That sounds like a lovely idea, Mr. Franklin. Do you have any new sex games in mind to keep your old-guy libido revved?”
Stepping back, he gave her the ice pack and opened the door for her. “I was thinking that given your current condition, the best option would be for you to just lie back and let me be your gigolo.”
She swung up into the front seat. “Now that sounds like the perfect proposition to me.”
Epilogue
Ten days later
Wind rolled off the ocean and tugged at the frothy scarf Rachel wore to cover the fading bruises as she stood on the bleachers with Sunny Rocha. The United States Air Force Band played the national anthems of each country represented during the closing ceremony for the weeklong summit.
A blessedly uneventful week that went off without so much as a hiccup.
Today’s Florida summer weather was sweltering but breezy, without a cloud in sight. The lush lawn stretched out a natural carpet for the dais. Leaders from around the world who’d attended the confab on global missile and satellite technology were gathered. Behind them, an air force rocket launch facility loomed with a missile at least twenty stories high. What a backdrop.