For the next two days, Cyrus and Daniella spent their time as tourists. They met the O’Ryans for dinner once—this time managing to actually complete a meal—but the rest of the time they spent alone, exploring the coast.
Today they had rented a car, and with maps in hand they drove to the neighboring town of Mijas Pueblo. In the quaint hillside village, all the buildings and houses were white, and they stopped several times so Daniella could take photos from several vantage points along the way.
Once in Mijas, they visited La Ermita de la Virgen de la Pe?a, where the virgin was said to have miraculously appeared. The small shrine, formerly a cave, had been excavated in the rocks at the base of the hill that led up to the village. Another must-see was the Plaza de Toros, a small bullring built in 1900 where bull fights were still conducted.
At one of the restaurants in the village they ate a leisurely lunch and then strolled through the streets, stopping every now and again in a shop so Daniella could purchase souvenirs in the form of crafts and leather goods for herself and as gifts.
Before they left, she convinced Cyrus to take a ride on one of the burro taxis. Each donkey was covered in beautifully woven fabrics that riders could sit atop, and they were “parked” on the street level near the main plaza. At first Cyrus had been adamant he wouldn’t ride one, but she finally talked him into it and giggled at the sight of his tall figure on the small donkey.
“Don’t you dare take a photo,” he warned.
“Too late.” She grinned and snapped another, and they formed a procession with other riders to make their trip to other parts of the village.
By the time they made it back to the car, it was starting to get dark, and they had a long drive back to Málaga.
“I smell like donkey,” Cyrus grumbled, sliding into the driver’s seat.
“No you don’t.” Daniella giggled, snapping her seatbelt into place.
He paused with the key in the ignition.
She stopped laughing. “What?”
He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’re laughing.” He said it as if he’d noticed for the first time.
“I’ve been laughing a lot lately,” she said softly. “I guess I’m happy.”
He leaned across the seat and kissed her. His mouth was soft and sweet and warm. “Good.”
****
“Who are all these things for?” Cyrus asked. They dropped all the bags on the plush settee in the sitting area of their bedroom.
“Friends, my employees, and remember the colorful glass bowls I picked up in the shop with all the ceramics? They would be nice on the shelves in the kitchen, don’t you think?” He watched as she took out her earrings and kicked off her shoes, and he couldn’t care less about bowls in the kitchen. If she wanted to put them in the bedroom, he’d be fine with that, too.
He stalked over to her and placed his hands on her hips. She tilted her head up to him and graced him with one of her cute smiles. “Did you hear me?” she asked.
“I was distracted by you getting undressed.”
“I said, I’m going to take a shower before dinner. Are you planning to join me?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
“Silly me.” She took a few steps back and pulled the sleeveless top over her head. The satin bra she wore underneath cupped her breasts, and soon he’d be replacing it with his hands. Her lashes lowered over her copper-colored eyes, but couldn’t hide the heat in them. “Are you coming?” She turned and added an extra sway to her hips as she headed toward the bedroom, her hand resting provocatively on the zipper at the back of her skirt.
“About to make you come,” Cyrus said. He was about to follow when his private cell phone rang. He swore angrily. Since not many people had that number, it had to be important.
“Don’t move,” he said.
Daniella stayed put at the door, and he looked at the phone. Trenton. Damn.
“Trenton, this better be damn important,” Cyrus said into the phone.
“I hate to bother you, but I thought you should know about the latest with Hardy Malcomb.”