Page 21 of Better Late Than Never

His eyes lit up. “Have you been there?”

“Couple of times. It’s really cool; definitely worth visiting.” I glanced at him. “If you look closely, a lot of the cathedrals are converted mosques. That one’s just the most obvious.”

“They are?”

“Mmhmm.” I grinned. “Next time you go to the one here, check out the belltower.”

Connor shot me a look. “Are you fucking with me?”

“Nope.”

He pursed his lips. Then he halted and took out his phone, and I realized he was pulling up the photos he’d taken today. He paused on one and peered at it. “Okay, what am I looking at?”

I stepped in close to him so I could see too. On the screen was the belltower in question. “Right, so you see the top part where the bells are?” I covered them with my thumb. “Now look at the rest.”

He pulled the phone a little closer. “Okay, so it’s—wait, no shit. Is that… Wait, what the hell?”

I chuckled. “It’s the minaret from the mosque that used to be there.”

“Wow. How did I not notice that?”

“Because you just got here. Give it some time, and you’ll start seeing the Moorish architecture in a lot of the historical spots.”

“And here I thought you weren’t into—” He stopped abruptly when he turned to me. So did my breath.

Because oh, hell—we werereallyclose.

I quickly broke eye contact and sidestepped to put some space between us. “I’ll have you know, I do pay attention to historical stuff and architecture.” I motioned for us to start walking again, and as we did, I added, “Just not when I’m trying to get laid.”

Connor coughed a laugh as he put his phone in his pocket. “Hey, at least you’ve got your priorities straight.”

“That’s about the only thing straight about me.”

He snorted. “Oh my God. And I thoughtmydad jokes were bad.”

I just laughed, and we continued down the block to where a brightly colored neon sign glowed above tinted glass doors. “That’s the place.”

Connor tensed a little, and he pushed out a nervous breath.

The temptation to put a reassuring hand on his back was almost overwhelming. “Relax. It’s just a club.”

“Uh-huh. Says the guy who’s been going to clubs since he was a teenager.” He swallowed. “Didn’t you say you’d be intimidated in my shoes?”

Damn, maybe that hadn’t been the best thing to tell him, even if it was true. “I did. And I would be. But I’d also hope I had someone there to tell me, ‘dude, it’s just a club—let’s go have a couple of drinks and dance.’”

He seemed to consider that. “Okay, that… doesn’t soundtooterrifying.”

“Exactly. Oh, and just so you know, they pour the drinksstrongin there. Pace yourself.”

I’d gone into Spanish clubs with younger guys from the base before, and they’d invariably puff out their chests and insist they could handle it. After all, they were a Sailor! Or a Marine!

But Connor—either because he was a doctor who knew better or a seasoned officer who’d learned the hard way—was apparently wise enough not to play chicken with his own liver. “Duly noted. I’ll probably just stick with beer anyway.”

“Good call.” I dug into my pocket. “Also, you’ll want to wear these.” I held out a pair of bright orange earplugs.

Connor eyed them, then me. “Really?”

“Trust me. You’ll still be able to hear just fine, but it’ll cut through the noise enough that you can actually hear someone talking.”

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