"Craig?" she asked, the shock stealing volume from her voice. The tremble in her voice cut through the warm festival air. "What are you doing here?"
He stood with his hands tucked casually into his pockets, his silhouette framed by the blur of passing strangers. "It's a carnival," he said, like that explained everything. "What do people do here?"
"No," she shook her head, still stunned. "I mean, here. In Spain. Mallorca?"
Frustration prickled beneath her. He wasn't really going to play this off like it was just some random coincidence, was he? Had he known exactly where she was?
She wasn't crazy for thinking it. She couldn't be.
The idea that he'd flown all the way from Lake Tahoe to Spain because of her. Even thinking it felt insane.
He tilted his head, his mouth twitching. "What, do you own the country?"
She blinked. Her stomach flipped, and her heart wouldn't stop pounding. She couldn't even come up with what next to say.
