“'I'm still amazed at meeting MacGowan and Knowlan at the racecourse yesterday,” Rod said. “I never expected the meeting to happen so soon after we arrived in Ireland.”
“It surprised me, too.” Wyl grabbed plates out of the cabinet. “They're an interesting couple, but Declan's demeanor made me uneasy.” He set the table. “His pleasantness included a sinister undertone hard to miss. They both appeared a little...well...forced.”
“Yeah, almost like a faked close couple routine. I don’t trust either one of them.”
“That's healthy, Rod. You're an undercover agent now. You should trust nobody if you want to stay alive.”
The knife he held to stem the strawberries clattered into the sink. Rod white-knuckled the counter edge and rasped out, “Stay alive?”
Wyl surrounded Rod with his arms, nuzzling his ear. “Sorry, babe. You promised to melt in my arms for our second Christmas on the ranch, our first Christmas as husbands. We can’t if we're dead.”
“Dead?” Releasing his death grip on the counter, Rod rotated to face Wyl, dismay and uncertainty in his expression.
Wyl tightened his embrace, hoping to ease the angst in Rod’s voice, body language, and expression. “You've understood from the beginning this mission was dangerous. My job is to make sure nothing happens to you.”
Rod tightened his arms around Wyl. "It's not me I worry about losing.”
Wyl whispered in Rod’s ear. “We’ll be fine.” He kissed the ear and nibbled his lobe. “Now relax. We have guests coming.”
Rod took a deep breath before releasing his embrace. “Sorry, I freaked. The thought of death frightened me. In the back of my mind, it’s possible, but hearing the words sent me into a panic.” He stroked Wyl’s cheek. “Never stop telling me we’ll be fine.”
Wyl planted a fiery kiss on his husband’s lips, a sure way to pull him out of his panic. Rod melted into the kiss as he opened for Wyl’s tongue.
Wyl pulled away. “Better?”
The faraway gaze in Rod’s eyes told him yes as he nodded his head and smiled.
"Now those strawberries aren’t going to stem themselves. Need me to beat the eggs or something?”
Rod took a deep breath and regained his composure. “Sure. Use eight eggs, and add a bit of cream as you whisk. Sprinkle in a dash of cinnamon, nutmeg, and about half a teaspoon of sugar.”
They worked together in the kitchen preparing breakfast, nudging each other to maintain body contact.
At eleven o’clock, the doorbell rang.
“I’m on it.” Wyl checked the peephole. James Pearson and another man he assumed to be James’s partner, Glenn, the other British agent, waited. He opened the door.
“Hi, James.” Wyl extended his hand. “Please, come in.”
James shook hands, and turned to the man beside him. “Wyl, this is my partner, Glenn Cross. Glenn, this is Wyl Sterling.”
“Hi, Glenn. I’m pleased to meet you.” Wyl offered his hand.
“Blinding to meet you, too.” Glenn's noticeable Cockney accent came through. He shook Wyl’s hand as they entered the flat.
Wyl closed the door and whispered to James, “Blinding?”
“It means fantastic,” James said.
Wyl chuckled and called to Rod. “Babe, James and Glenn are here.”
Rod strolled into the living room. “Hi, James.” He offered his hand to James, then to Glenn. “Glenn, I’m Rod. Welcome to our little bit of Ireland.”
“At last we meet, Rod. James mentioned you two and told me a bit about your relationship. I understand you created quite a sensation in San Francisco.” Glenn smiled and emphasized the word sensation.
“Let’s say San Francisco won’t forget us,” Wyl laughed.
“Why don’t we sit and visit for a bit before brunch,” Rod motioned toward the seating area. “Can I offer a mimosa?”
"Count me in,” James said. “Glenn?”
“Me too,” Glen said. “It's been years since my last mimosa.”
“Babe, you open the champagne, and I’ll bring the orange juice,” Rod said. “You two make yourselves comfortable.”
Mimosa’s arrived, and the four settled in the living room.
“Glenn and I are on permanent assignment in Ireland,” James said. “We can discuss the mission with him as he is involved.”
“I’m glad you validate our intel,” Rod said. “I hoped we discussed things related to the mission.”
Wyl nodded. “O’Brien mentioned your name, Glenn, but didn’t provide any details. What do you do here in Galway?”
“I’m in commercial real estate,” Glenn sipped his mimosa. “I handle larger properties like warehouses and buildings with expansive square footage.”
“Glenn can keep an eye on properties possibly leased by criminal organizations. We’ve cracked some cases, netting quite a few arrests.”
“Wow, I never thought of that.” Rod rubbed his nose after a sip of the fizzy drink. “It’s comforting to realize the law enforcement effort is so well organized.”
