Abigail was a hit at the fund-raiser, as Owen knew she would be. He sat with her the next morning in her tiny yard, drinking bad coffee while she strapped on gun and pager and whatever else she carried as one of Boston’s finest.
“Austin, Boston, Maine, my life, your life.” She grinned at him. “We’ll figure it out, won’t we?”
“We will.”
“I love you, you know.”
He winked at her. How many times had he told her he’d loved her in the past two days? Not nearly enough. “I love you.”
“I like hearing that. What’re you going to do while I’m off catching bad guys today?”
“Buy you a new multimedia system. The bed works fine. As you know.” He sipped more of his coffee, which tasted as if it’d been boiled in her gritty grill. “But your multimedia system has to go. Your TV has rabbit ears.”
“That’s an exaggeration.”
Bob and Scoop yelled from their balconies, “No, it’s not.”
Abigail started arguing with them, and Owen grinned, stretching out his long legs and feeling at home.