“You’re welcome,” he said. “Does anyone have to use the bathroom before we leave?”
The general consensus was no. He mentally prepared himself to stop at every rest stop and caravanserai between Konya and Ephesus.
*
Like most groups or teams, the Bucket List Babes had a routine: rehash the site, discuss vegetation, then a really pleasant silence would fall over the Land Rover as people read or listened to music and watched the countryside roll by. A little girl with wind-tangled hair and a pink dress tended sheep in a meadow just beginning to green into spring; a while later they watched a boy fly a kite. Keenan had expected nonstop chatter, but found to his relief they all knew how to keep their own company.
Rose flipped through Rumi’s poems, then dug The Iliad out of her shoulder tote. As the miles rolled by he watched her eyelids droop, then close briefly, open again, then finally shut for good. He kept an eye on her, waiting for the right moment to ease the books from her lap. Grannie worked her travel pillow between Rose’s seat and the door, holding it there while Keenan gathered the books from her unresisting hands, then gently nudged her head to the side so it rested on the pillow. A quick glance over his shoulder found Grannie smiling conspiratorially at him.
An hour later all the women were asleep, Marian and Grannie against the rear passenger doors, Florence with her head pillowed on Grannie’s shoulder. He scratched his ear and tried not to laugh. Keenan Parker, former U.S. Navy SEAL, chauffeuring three senior citizens and one jet-lagged Senior Director of Operations and Logistics through Turkey. It was almost ridiculous.
Except it felt really nice. Like he was responsible for everyday human beings doing everyday things. Almost ordinary.
They woke up in time for dinner at a roadside restaurant, a meal consumed in a friendly, companionable silence. Rose had the bleary, stunned look he saw too often in the mirror, coming down after days and days of little to no sleep, so he wasn’t surprised when she fell asleep again in the car. When they parked in front of the hotel’s entrance she didn’t even wake up. Grannie handled the room arrangements while he unloaded the baggage, then opened the passenger door.
Rose stared up at him. “We’re here, sweetheart,” he said. The endearment was out before he could think about it, much less stop it. “Ephesus,” he clarified, because she was looking around like she had no idea where she was.
“Okay,” she said, groggy, throaty.
“Come on, Rose,” Grannie said, holding out her hand. Keenan was struck by the tenderness in the gesture. Grannie had probably done that for Rose since Rose could toddle. Based on the way Rose slid out of the truck and went to her grandmother, it was as familiar as an old, soft T-shirt.
“Good night,” she said over her shoulder, her gaze sleepy, soft.
And that was that. No late-night conversations in the bar. No hot slippery sex. On the plus side, no difficult questions, no looks that cracked open that increasingly vulnerable space inside him, the one he hadn’t known existed until Rose walked up to him at the Ankara airport.
He should have been disappointed. Instead, all he felt was a flicker of the same tenderness for his jet-lagged girl.
Chapter Six
A rooster went off at crack-of-dawn o’clock the next morning. Rose sat bolt upright in bed, hand flailing for her phone to shut off the crowing alarm but succeeded only in knocking the small digital clock to the floor. “What the hell is going on?”
No answer. Grannie’s bed was empty, and the shower was running in the bathroom. Rose flung back the covers and padded over to the sliding doors that opened onto a small balcony. A big fan of fresh air and cool nights, Grannie had left the door partially open. Once outside on the patio she saw her barnyard alarm clock perched on a high stucco wall around a tiny garden, cock-a-doodle-dooing his proud bantam heart out.
Feet curling away from the chilly cement, Rose braced her palms on the railing and stretched onto tiptoe while she took stock. Anticipating the day’s events, she felt almost deliriously happy, body rested, mind clear and calm, like the blue sky stretching to the horizon. They would have a delicious breakfast, then drive to the premier archaeological site in Turkey, the highlight of Grannie’s bucket list, and spend the day wandering among the ruins. Then they’d drive to just outside Troy. The trip was a little less than half done, and every single moment that remained was full of promise.
Movement on the street caught her eye, a man in shorts, running shoes, and no shirt sprinting along the edge of the road. As he neared the hotel he slowed to a jog, then to a walk. His hair was damp with sweat, and he linked his hands behind his head as he strode up the semicircle drive in front of the hotel.
Keenan.
Rose waved to catch his attention. He waved back, then came to stand under her second-floor balcony. “Good morning,” he said.