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| Festung Hohensalzburg |
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| The Gardens at Mirabell Palace |
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| Doe, Re, Mi |
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| The Marble Hall in Mirabell Palace. |
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| Getreidegasse |
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| Fred's inspiration |
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| Mozartkugeln |
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Salzburg
How could this story not go to Salzburg?
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Dinner and a Movie - A Valentine's Day Story
Despite frigid Colorado temperatures and snow piled high along the winding road, Scott Barstow’s hands were so slick with perspiration that they nearly slipped off the steering wheel of the borrowed Porsche. He couldn’t remember being this nervous on a date. He hadn’t even been this nervous the night he’d taken Becky Anderson to senior prom. Becky Anderson, of Anderson Cattle Ranch, where they castrated bulls and offered Rocky Mountain Oysters to waiting prom dates. He still had to suppress shudders at the memory of Mr. Anderson’s steely blues watching him swallow that little delicacy. Apparently his smile and weak comment of "Uh, tasty" had passed off as genuine, at any rate.
But his companion for this evening was even more intimidating than the sweet, yet vaguely alarming Becky Anderson. His date was the most exciting, dangerous, fascinating, exotic and formidable woman he’d ever met. He dropped one hand to his thigh and rubbed the nervous perspiration on his jeans. And anxiety inducing. Definitely anxiety inducing.
He pulled his eyes away from the road and glanced at her. She looked smashing in her faux fur coat. Mr. Bartowski had offered to loan him his cashmere overcoat but Scott had declined. He’d opted for utilitarian instead. Glancing down at his heavy North Face jacket, he realized he should have taken him up on his offer. Carina was definitely not anything like Becky Anderson.
“Really, Scottie? That’s the best you can come up with for Valentine’s Day?” Carina asked. “Dinner and a movie?”
He wasn’t sure if she was teasing or not. He sure hoped so. Swallowing down the spurt of stomach acid that crept up his throat, he said, “Well, since this is our first normal date, I thought it would be fun to do something lots of people do on dates.”
“What about the Christmas parties we went to in D.C.? You don’t consider those normal dates?”
“I guess they were, technically. But are going to CIA and DEA parties really normal? And you certainly can’t call what happened in Amsterdam and Monte Carlo normal.”
He shot her another quick glance and saw the corner of her mouth lift. Her throaty chuckle allowed him to relax the tiniest bit. “Okay, I’ll give you that. Now, tell me more about this normal date we’re going on,” she said.
“We’ll have dinner and see a movie, but in the same place at the same time. You eat dinner while you watch the movie.”
“Nachos and a Diet Coke is not dinner.”
He felt a drop of sweat trickle down the side of his face as he chewed on his lower lip. This was the end. He was going to crash and burn on what was supposed to be the most romantic day of the year. He should have listened to Vegas. His partner had warned him that Valentine’s Day sucked no matter what. He should have just let it go by with nothing more than a dozen red roses delivered to her apartment in D.C. by some pimply-faced teenager who made minimum wage. Instead, as part of her present, he’d arranged for her to come visit Colorado for a few days. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Oh well. Looking at the bright side, if his Valentine’s Day plans bombed out, at least Carina would get to spend some time with Agent Walker, Mr. Bartowski and the kids. He pressed harder on the accelerator of the Porsche and took the turns at an even faster clip.
A wave of boldness overtook him. If he was going to go down, he was going to go down swinging. “Give it a chance, please? It’s not crappy movie theater food. It’s restaurant food prepared by real chefs.”
That bit of intel seemed to change her attitude. He definitely heard teasing in her voice when she said, “Gourmet nachos?”
The muscles in his neck and shoulders suddenly relaxed. He hadn’t realized they’d been so tight. “Topped with only the freshest, free-range jalapeños.”
She laughed out loud. From the corner of his eye, she saw her flash a grin. “You’re cute.” After a moment, she asked, “Do they serve alcohol?”
“Yup. Movie inspired drinks, actually.”
“Okay, Scottie. I’ll give it a chance.” She reached out and traced her finger over his ear. In a sultry voice, she said, “You know, instead of a movie, we could find a nice place to park and violate the sanctity of Walker’s car.”
Clearing his throat, he said, “I sort of already paid for the tickets to the movie. I have it all planned out." He hoped that would be a good enough excuse since there was no way he was going to do anything like that in Agent Walker’s car. But he wasn’t going to tell Carina that. He had the feeling it would only make her want to do it more.
Her chuckle was deep and dangerous and sent a chill up his spine. “As far as I’m concerned, Scottie, my idea would be much more fun. But since you already bought the tickets, and you want this to be a normal date, I’m game.” She shoved his shoulder with her hand and warned him with a smirk, “Don’t say it.”
Breathing a silent sigh of relief that his plan had earned her approval, he smiled back and relaxed into the seat of the Porsche as it rocketed down the interstate toward Vail.
They arrived thirty minutes before the movie was scheduled to begin to ensure their food would arrive before the film started, just as Scott had read on the website when he made the reservation. They had decent seats and he was especially pleased to find his shoes didn’t stick to the floor of the theater. As they looked over their menus, he kept sneaking peeks at Carina. Thankfully, she seemed to be amused by it all.
Their server, a young woman dressed in a white dress shirt, red bow tie and black slacks, approached. Her gaze remained on her tablet as she intoned, “Happy Valentine’s Day. My name is Tammy and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Would you like to start off with a drink?” Eyes sliding to Carina, she gave the DEA agent a bored stare.
Carina glanced up from her menu and squinted at the waitress. “I think I know you. Did you used to work at the Rusty Spittoon?”
The woman eyed the redhead back. “Still do. They cut back my hours, so I picked this up as a second job. I take it you’ve been there?”
“Yeah, about a year ago my friend and I went there for her bachelorette party.”
Tammy scrutinized Carina’s face. After a moment, she brightened with recognition. Pointing the eraser end of her pencil at her, she said, “Right! I think I remember you. Tequila shooters, right? I never forget people’s drinks.” She smiled proudly. “It’s kind of a gift.” Her smile faded. Apparently she was beginning to remember more specifics of the evening. “Your friend’s a pretty blonde, right? Seem to recall that some kind of ruckus broke out.”
Carina snickered. “Yeah, that was us. I hope you didn’t get in any trouble because of it.”
“Nah,” Tammy answered. “Deputies get called up there all the time.” She tilted her head to one side. “I haven’t seen you guys there in a long time.”
Barstow gulped when Carina gave him a side-eyed stare and then looked up at Tammy. “I haven’t been there, but don’t tell me my boy Scottie here has been to the Spittoon without me.”
“Oh, no,” she said, throwing Barstow a panicked glance. “I haven’t seen him there at all.” As if trying to take the heat off Scott, she continued, “I think I saw your blonde friend with a tall guy there one evening, though. Handsome fella. This past fall, maybe?” She tapped the end of the pencil to her lips, deep in thought. “They drank sodas and only danced the slow dances.” She winked at Carina. “Speaking of drinks, hate to tell you, hon, but we don’t serve tequila shots here.”
“That’s okay,” Carina said, flipping the menu over to look at the drink section. “I’ll take a ‘Pity The Fool.’ It has my three of my favorite men all in one delicious place: Jack Daniels, Johnny Walker and Jim Beam.”
Grinning, Tammy made a note on her pad. When her attention fell to Barstow, he said, “I’m driving, so I’ll just have a Pale Ale.”
“Gotcha. I’ll be right back.” Just as she had done at the Rusty Spittoon, she returned quickly with their drinks. After she set them in the holders between their seats, she asked, “Have you decided?”
Carina handed the menu to Tammy and said, “I’m feeling adventurous, so I’m going to try the Buffalo Tenderloin.”
“Good choice,” she said absently as she jotted on her pad. “How would you like it cooked? Medium? Medium-well?”
“Rare, Tammy. I want it rare. I want you to knock that big furry beast on the head and drag it past a fire.”
Tammy stared wide-eyed, as if Carina had just announced she wanted to eat a plateful of diseased cockroaches. “I, uh.” She held up the menu and pointed at a specific spot on it with her pencil. “It says right here that undercooked food might make you sick.”
“Yes, I noticed. I appreciate the owners, management and staff covering their collective asses,” Carina answered with a derisive snort. “Rare, Tammy.” Her voice was calm. Chillingly calm. “I want the meat so rare that it’ll grunt when I stick my fork in it.” When one of her eyebrows rose to nearly touch her hairline, Scott’s blood ran cold. “Rare.” Her tenor informed Tammy that the discussion was over.
The young woman, now slightly pale, nodded furiously and returned pencil to pad. “Rare,” she mumbled to herself. “And for you, sir?”
Scott felt for Tammy. Carina could be a very scary person. “I’ll have the salmon.” When he said nothing else and simply smiled when he handed her his menu, the waitress heaved a huge sigh. After she wrote down his order, she spun on her heel and scampered off.
Just as Tammy left, Scott absently eyed the young couple that sat down on other side of Carina. The seats were wider than regular theater seats, but still lined up in a row with small trays that swung in front of them where their plates would go. They reminded him of the seats in a big lecture hall. Wanting to get the conversation going again, he asked, “What are the Bartowskis up to for Valentine’s Day?”
Carina rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand. “God, married people are so boring. They’re staying home. I heard Sarah say something about Nutella and strawberries.” She shuddered. “I don’t even want to know.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, but stopped and listened with amusement when the young woman sitting next to Carina ordered her Oven Baked Goat Cheese like Meg Ryan’s character from When Harry Met Sally. Scott tensed when he noticed Carina’s nostrils flare when “Sally” made a stink about the lack of vegetarian choices on the menu.
A few minutes before the movie was scheduled to begin, Scott and Carina’s food arrived. With a critical eye, Carina cut into her meat and when it oozed red, she purred happily. “Perfect. Nice and bloody.”
“Sally” next to her had the opposite reaction. Although she didn’t say anything at first, the horror and disgust that twisted her features was more than ample evidence of what she thought of Carina’s food choice. “That’s so gross!” If she was trying to whisper discreetly to her date, she didn’t do a very good job.
Scott was thankful when Carina ignored her and took another bite of steak. He watched her more closely, however, when he saw her eye twitch and noticed the slug she took of her drink when the woman started listing off all of the health problems believed to be linked to the consumption of red meat. It was only through a combination of his CIA training and sheer luck that he was a fraction of a second quicker than Carina as he caught her wrist just before her fork impaled the woman’s hand lying on the shared armrest.
“Carina, ignore her,” he pleaded, gently rubbing his thumb over her wrist. “I really don’t want to make a second trip in one year to the Eagle County Jail.”
Carina’s eyes still sparked with danger, but her features softened. “Okay, Scottie. I’ll do it for you.”
He blew out a breath. “Thank you.”
“I still want to stab her hand.”
“I know.”
“Sally” seemed to sense the threat to her life and limb, so she thereafter remained silent. Even so, just as the movie was starting, Scott convinced Carina to switch seats with him. He thanked the stars above when the rest of the evening went surprisingly well and without further incidents.
After dessert and coffee following the movie, Scott drove them back to the Bartowski residence where he parked the Porsche in the street. He almost pointed out that they’d successfully had a normal date, but thought better of it. Tempting fate was not high on his list of things to do at that moment.
As they sat together in the car, he suddenly felt as awkward and nervous as a teenager. The small box he’d carried around in his pocket the entire evening—the one that was burning a hole in his leg—didn’t help either.
Ignoring the perspiration that sprouted on his upper lip, he decided to just do it, like ripping off a Band-Aid. “I got something for you,” he blurted.
“Oh, Scottie, that’s really sweet. I didn’t get you anything.” He saw her teeth flash with a grin in the moonlight. “Well, I did get something for you, but I’ll be wearing it.”
It was as if someone jammed a rod into the gearbox of his brain. Everything came to a full and grinding stop. He gave himself a moment to enjoy his happy place and then pulled himself together. Digging into his pocket, he drew out the red velvet box and held it out.
He’d never seen her flustered before. “Oh, Scott. I, um… I don’t think—”
When he realized what it looked like, he straightened up so fast he bumped his head on the ceiling of the car. “Oh, no! No, no, no, no.” He flipped open the box. “They’re just earrings. See? They’re little silver Glocks.” When she didn’t say anything, he said, “I know you usually carry a Ladysmith, but they only had Glocks.” His tongue seemed to double in size. “I hope you don’t mind,” he mumbled. God, he felt completely lame.
When she leaned into him and gave him a slow, lingering kiss, all his nerves melted away. “I don’t mind at all.” She arched an eyebrow and opened the car door. “Now it’s time for your present.”
The nerves tried to edge back. “But what about Agent Walker?” he hissed. She was the only woman he feared more than Carina. Well, other than his mother, of course. “If she finds out…”
“I can handle Walker. Trust me,” she said with a purr.
Hand-in-hand, they walked up the drive toward the front of the house.
“You know, we can sprinkle a few normal dates in with the helicopter flying, bomb-defusing, orphan saving ones,” she said, her breath forming a cloud in the cold air. “I wouldn’t say no.”
He sure couldn’t ask for anything more. He took the spare house key she handed him and slipped it in the lock. “I’ll remember that,” he said as he opened the door for her. All things considered, he figured he could call this Valentine’s Day a success.
But his companion for this evening was even more intimidating than the sweet, yet vaguely alarming Becky Anderson. His date was the most exciting, dangerous, fascinating, exotic and formidable woman he’d ever met. He dropped one hand to his thigh and rubbed the nervous perspiration on his jeans. And anxiety inducing. Definitely anxiety inducing.
He pulled his eyes away from the road and glanced at her. She looked smashing in her faux fur coat. Mr. Bartowski had offered to loan him his cashmere overcoat but Scott had declined. He’d opted for utilitarian instead. Glancing down at his heavy North Face jacket, he realized he should have taken him up on his offer. Carina was definitely not anything like Becky Anderson.
“Really, Scottie? That’s the best you can come up with for Valentine’s Day?” Carina asked. “Dinner and a movie?”
He wasn’t sure if she was teasing or not. He sure hoped so. Swallowing down the spurt of stomach acid that crept up his throat, he said, “Well, since this is our first normal date, I thought it would be fun to do something lots of people do on dates.”
“What about the Christmas parties we went to in D.C.? You don’t consider those normal dates?”
“I guess they were, technically. But are going to CIA and DEA parties really normal? And you certainly can’t call what happened in Amsterdam and Monte Carlo normal.”
He shot her another quick glance and saw the corner of her mouth lift. Her throaty chuckle allowed him to relax the tiniest bit. “Okay, I’ll give you that. Now, tell me more about this normal date we’re going on,” she said.
“We’ll have dinner and see a movie, but in the same place at the same time. You eat dinner while you watch the movie.”
“Nachos and a Diet Coke is not dinner.”
He felt a drop of sweat trickle down the side of his face as he chewed on his lower lip. This was the end. He was going to crash and burn on what was supposed to be the most romantic day of the year. He should have listened to Vegas. His partner had warned him that Valentine’s Day sucked no matter what. He should have just let it go by with nothing more than a dozen red roses delivered to her apartment in D.C. by some pimply-faced teenager who made minimum wage. Instead, as part of her present, he’d arranged for her to come visit Colorado for a few days. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Oh well. Looking at the bright side, if his Valentine’s Day plans bombed out, at least Carina would get to spend some time with Agent Walker, Mr. Bartowski and the kids. He pressed harder on the accelerator of the Porsche and took the turns at an even faster clip.
A wave of boldness overtook him. If he was going to go down, he was going to go down swinging. “Give it a chance, please? It’s not crappy movie theater food. It’s restaurant food prepared by real chefs.”
That bit of intel seemed to change her attitude. He definitely heard teasing in her voice when she said, “Gourmet nachos?”
The muscles in his neck and shoulders suddenly relaxed. He hadn’t realized they’d been so tight. “Topped with only the freshest, free-range jalapeños.”
She laughed out loud. From the corner of his eye, she saw her flash a grin. “You’re cute.” After a moment, she asked, “Do they serve alcohol?”
“Yup. Movie inspired drinks, actually.”
“Okay, Scottie. I’ll give it a chance.” She reached out and traced her finger over his ear. In a sultry voice, she said, “You know, instead of a movie, we could find a nice place to park and violate the sanctity of Walker’s car.”
Clearing his throat, he said, “I sort of already paid for the tickets to the movie. I have it all planned out." He hoped that would be a good enough excuse since there was no way he was going to do anything like that in Agent Walker’s car. But he wasn’t going to tell Carina that. He had the feeling it would only make her want to do it more.
Her chuckle was deep and dangerous and sent a chill up his spine. “As far as I’m concerned, Scottie, my idea would be much more fun. But since you already bought the tickets, and you want this to be a normal date, I’m game.” She shoved his shoulder with her hand and warned him with a smirk, “Don’t say it.”
Breathing a silent sigh of relief that his plan had earned her approval, he smiled back and relaxed into the seat of the Porsche as it rocketed down the interstate toward Vail.
They arrived thirty minutes before the movie was scheduled to begin to ensure their food would arrive before the film started, just as Scott had read on the website when he made the reservation. They had decent seats and he was especially pleased to find his shoes didn’t stick to the floor of the theater. As they looked over their menus, he kept sneaking peeks at Carina. Thankfully, she seemed to be amused by it all.
Their server, a young woman dressed in a white dress shirt, red bow tie and black slacks, approached. Her gaze remained on her tablet as she intoned, “Happy Valentine’s Day. My name is Tammy and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Would you like to start off with a drink?” Eyes sliding to Carina, she gave the DEA agent a bored stare.
Carina glanced up from her menu and squinted at the waitress. “I think I know you. Did you used to work at the Rusty Spittoon?”
The woman eyed the redhead back. “Still do. They cut back my hours, so I picked this up as a second job. I take it you’ve been there?”
“Yeah, about a year ago my friend and I went there for her bachelorette party.”
Tammy scrutinized Carina’s face. After a moment, she brightened with recognition. Pointing the eraser end of her pencil at her, she said, “Right! I think I remember you. Tequila shooters, right? I never forget people’s drinks.” She smiled proudly. “It’s kind of a gift.” Her smile faded. Apparently she was beginning to remember more specifics of the evening. “Your friend’s a pretty blonde, right? Seem to recall that some kind of ruckus broke out.”
Carina snickered. “Yeah, that was us. I hope you didn’t get in any trouble because of it.”
“Nah,” Tammy answered. “Deputies get called up there all the time.” She tilted her head to one side. “I haven’t seen you guys there in a long time.”
Barstow gulped when Carina gave him a side-eyed stare and then looked up at Tammy. “I haven’t been there, but don’t tell me my boy Scottie here has been to the Spittoon without me.”
“Oh, no,” she said, throwing Barstow a panicked glance. “I haven’t seen him there at all.” As if trying to take the heat off Scott, she continued, “I think I saw your blonde friend with a tall guy there one evening, though. Handsome fella. This past fall, maybe?” She tapped the end of the pencil to her lips, deep in thought. “They drank sodas and only danced the slow dances.” She winked at Carina. “Speaking of drinks, hate to tell you, hon, but we don’t serve tequila shots here.”
“That’s okay,” Carina said, flipping the menu over to look at the drink section. “I’ll take a ‘Pity The Fool.’ It has my three of my favorite men all in one delicious place: Jack Daniels, Johnny Walker and Jim Beam.”
Grinning, Tammy made a note on her pad. When her attention fell to Barstow, he said, “I’m driving, so I’ll just have a Pale Ale.”
“Gotcha. I’ll be right back.” Just as she had done at the Rusty Spittoon, she returned quickly with their drinks. After she set them in the holders between their seats, she asked, “Have you decided?”
Carina handed the menu to Tammy and said, “I’m feeling adventurous, so I’m going to try the Buffalo Tenderloin.”
“Good choice,” she said absently as she jotted on her pad. “How would you like it cooked? Medium? Medium-well?”
“Rare, Tammy. I want it rare. I want you to knock that big furry beast on the head and drag it past a fire.”
Tammy stared wide-eyed, as if Carina had just announced she wanted to eat a plateful of diseased cockroaches. “I, uh.” She held up the menu and pointed at a specific spot on it with her pencil. “It says right here that undercooked food might make you sick.”
“Yes, I noticed. I appreciate the owners, management and staff covering their collective asses,” Carina answered with a derisive snort. “Rare, Tammy.” Her voice was calm. Chillingly calm. “I want the meat so rare that it’ll grunt when I stick my fork in it.” When one of her eyebrows rose to nearly touch her hairline, Scott’s blood ran cold. “Rare.” Her tenor informed Tammy that the discussion was over.
The young woman, now slightly pale, nodded furiously and returned pencil to pad. “Rare,” she mumbled to herself. “And for you, sir?”
Scott felt for Tammy. Carina could be a very scary person. “I’ll have the salmon.” When he said nothing else and simply smiled when he handed her his menu, the waitress heaved a huge sigh. After she wrote down his order, she spun on her heel and scampered off.
Just as Tammy left, Scott absently eyed the young couple that sat down on other side of Carina. The seats were wider than regular theater seats, but still lined up in a row with small trays that swung in front of them where their plates would go. They reminded him of the seats in a big lecture hall. Wanting to get the conversation going again, he asked, “What are the Bartowskis up to for Valentine’s Day?”
Carina rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand. “God, married people are so boring. They’re staying home. I heard Sarah say something about Nutella and strawberries.” She shuddered. “I don’t even want to know.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, but stopped and listened with amusement when the young woman sitting next to Carina ordered her Oven Baked Goat Cheese like Meg Ryan’s character from When Harry Met Sally. Scott tensed when he noticed Carina’s nostrils flare when “Sally” made a stink about the lack of vegetarian choices on the menu.
A few minutes before the movie was scheduled to begin, Scott and Carina’s food arrived. With a critical eye, Carina cut into her meat and when it oozed red, she purred happily. “Perfect. Nice and bloody.”
“Sally” next to her had the opposite reaction. Although she didn’t say anything at first, the horror and disgust that twisted her features was more than ample evidence of what she thought of Carina’s food choice. “That’s so gross!” If she was trying to whisper discreetly to her date, she didn’t do a very good job.
Scott was thankful when Carina ignored her and took another bite of steak. He watched her more closely, however, when he saw her eye twitch and noticed the slug she took of her drink when the woman started listing off all of the health problems believed to be linked to the consumption of red meat. It was only through a combination of his CIA training and sheer luck that he was a fraction of a second quicker than Carina as he caught her wrist just before her fork impaled the woman’s hand lying on the shared armrest.
“Carina, ignore her,” he pleaded, gently rubbing his thumb over her wrist. “I really don’t want to make a second trip in one year to the Eagle County Jail.”
Carina’s eyes still sparked with danger, but her features softened. “Okay, Scottie. I’ll do it for you.”
He blew out a breath. “Thank you.”
“I still want to stab her hand.”
“I know.”
“Sally” seemed to sense the threat to her life and limb, so she thereafter remained silent. Even so, just as the movie was starting, Scott convinced Carina to switch seats with him. He thanked the stars above when the rest of the evening went surprisingly well and without further incidents.
After dessert and coffee following the movie, Scott drove them back to the Bartowski residence where he parked the Porsche in the street. He almost pointed out that they’d successfully had a normal date, but thought better of it. Tempting fate was not high on his list of things to do at that moment.
As they sat together in the car, he suddenly felt as awkward and nervous as a teenager. The small box he’d carried around in his pocket the entire evening—the one that was burning a hole in his leg—didn’t help either.
Ignoring the perspiration that sprouted on his upper lip, he decided to just do it, like ripping off a Band-Aid. “I got something for you,” he blurted.
“Oh, Scottie, that’s really sweet. I didn’t get you anything.” He saw her teeth flash with a grin in the moonlight. “Well, I did get something for you, but I’ll be wearing it.”
It was as if someone jammed a rod into the gearbox of his brain. Everything came to a full and grinding stop. He gave himself a moment to enjoy his happy place and then pulled himself together. Digging into his pocket, he drew out the red velvet box and held it out.
He’d never seen her flustered before. “Oh, Scott. I, um… I don’t think—”
When he realized what it looked like, he straightened up so fast he bumped his head on the ceiling of the car. “Oh, no! No, no, no, no.” He flipped open the box. “They’re just earrings. See? They’re little silver Glocks.” When she didn’t say anything, he said, “I know you usually carry a Ladysmith, but they only had Glocks.” His tongue seemed to double in size. “I hope you don’t mind,” he mumbled. God, he felt completely lame.
When she leaned into him and gave him a slow, lingering kiss, all his nerves melted away. “I don’t mind at all.” She arched an eyebrow and opened the car door. “Now it’s time for your present.”
The nerves tried to edge back. “But what about Agent Walker?” he hissed. She was the only woman he feared more than Carina. Well, other than his mother, of course. “If she finds out…”
“I can handle Walker. Trust me,” she said with a purr.
Hand-in-hand, they walked up the drive toward the front of the house.
“You know, we can sprinkle a few normal dates in with the helicopter flying, bomb-defusing, orphan saving ones,” she said, her breath forming a cloud in the cold air. “I wouldn’t say no.”
He sure couldn’t ask for anything more. He took the spare house key she handed him and slipped it in the lock. “I’ll remember that,” he said as he opened the door for her. All things considered, he figured he could call this Valentine’s Day a success.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Vienna
There are so many things to do in Vienna, it was hard to pick the right thing for the family to do. Eating schnitzel and going to the Prater just seemed to fit.
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| Schnitzel at Figlmüller. |
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| The Riesenrad. |
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| Schwarze Mamba. |
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| Yeah. |
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