Page 16 of What Matters Most

Setting her large-brimmed straw hat on the empty seat beside her, Carla nodded. “Great.”

The waiter appeared and handed them each a menu, but they didn’t look at them. “What would you like to do today?”

“Explore,” Carla replied immediately. “Would you mind if I dragged you to the arts-and-crafts center?”

Philip reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “Not at all. And tomorrow I thought we’d take an excursion to Palmito de la Virgen.”

Carla blinked. “Where?”

“An island near here. It’s a bird-watcher’s paradise.”

The only bird Carla was interested in watching was Philip, but she didn’t say as much.

“And Thursday I thought we might try our hand at deep-sea fishing.”

“I’m game,” she said, and giggled. “No pun intended.”

“My, my, you’re agreeable. Are you always like this in the mornings?”

Carla reached for the ice water, keeping her eyes lowered. “Most of the time.”

“I’d like to discover that for myself.”

The waiter arrived with his pen and pad, and Carla glanced up at him guiltily, realizing she hadn’t even looked at the menu.

—

After breakfast they rode a pulmonía to the Mazatlán Arts and Crafts Center, and Philip insisted on buying her a lovely turquoise ring. Carla felt more comfortable purchasing her souvenirs from these people and not from the beach vendors. Here the price was set and there wasn’t any haggling.

Tucking their purchases into a giant straw bag, Carla took off her hat and waved it in front of her face. Most of the shopping areas were air-conditioned, but once they stepped outside, the heat was stifling.

“Would you like something cool to drink?” Philip asked solicitously.

Smiling up at him, Carla placed a hand over her breast. “You, my dear man, know the path to my heart.”

Unexpectedly, Philip’s hand tightened on the back of her neck until his grip was almost painful. He dropped his hand and took a step forward as if he’d forgotten her completely. Surprised but not alarmed, Carla reached for his arm. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s going to be a fight over there.” He pointed to a group of youths who were having a heated exchange.

Although Carla couldn’t understand what was being said, she assumed from the angry sound of their words that they would soon be coming to blows. Her gaze was drawn to Philip, and she was witness to an abrupt change in roles taking place within him. After all, she was a policeman’s daughter. And Philip was an officer of the law. Once a cop, always a cop. He may be in Mazatlán, but he would never be entirely on vacation.

Philip’s jaw hardened and his eyes narrowed with keen interest. Briefly he turned to her. “Stay here.” The words were clipped and low, and filled with an authority that would brook no resistance.

Carla wanted to argue. Everything inside urged her to scream that this was none of his business. What right did he have to involve himself with those youths? Mexico had its own police force. She watched as Philip strode briskly across the street toward the angry young men. He asked them something in Spanish, and even from this distance Carla could hear the authority in his voice. She hadn’t a clue of what he was saying, but it didn’t matter. It was the law-enforcement officer in him speaking, anyway, and she didn’t want to know.

Only one thing prompted her to stay. If the situation got ugly and Philip needed help, she could scream or do something to get him out of this mess. But he didn’t need her assistance, and a few minutes later the group broke up. With an amused grin, Philip jogged across the street to her side.

“That was—”

“I don’t care to know, thank you,” she announced frostily. Opening her large bag, she took out the several small items he’d purchased during their morning’s outing.

“What’s this?” He looked stunned.

“Your things,” she answered without looking up. “You couldn’t do it, could you?”

“Do what?”

Apparently, he still didn’t understand. “For once, just once, couldn’t you have forgotten you’re a cop? But no, Mr. Rescue had to speed to the scene of potential danger, defending truth and justice.”

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