Page 47 of One Hot Chase

To Hungary, and more precisely, to Budapest.

All right, perhaps she didn't mention that city in her note. But she seems to be enjoying a whirlwind tour of famous capital cities, beginning in London, then down to Athens, and finally Budapest. It makes sense. To me, at least.

Four of the five Hungarian words she mentioned are types of food. But the fifth...No férfi is going to make time with my girl. If a Hungarian bloke tries to steal her away from me, I'll bash his skull.

As I land in Budapest, the crisp autumn air nips at my cheeks. She suggested I should bring a warm jacket, and so I did. Now I find myself imagining Bree's face when I surprise her. The metropolis unfolds before me, a tapestry of Gothic and Art Nouveau architecture, the Danube River snaking through its heart.

I make my way to the bustling Great Market Hall, figuring it's as good a place as any to start my search. The aroma of paprika and freshly baked pastries fills the air, and I find myself salivating despite my mission.

As I weave through the crowd, my eyes dart from stall to stall, searching for a glimpse of strawberry blonde hair. Suddenly, I spot a familiar messy bun bobbing through the throng. My heart races as I push forward, determined not to lose her.

"Bree!" I call out, my voice lost in the cacophony of the market.

I quicken my pace, dodging shoppers and vendors, my eyes locked on that tantalizing glimpse of ginger hair. Finally, I break through the crowd and reach out, my hand grasping her shoulder.

"Gotcha," I say triumphantly, spinning her around.

But instead of Bree's mischievous green eyes, I'm met with the startled gaze of a middle-aged Hungarian woman.

"Bocsánat," I mutter, backing away swiftly.

Blimey. I've made a right fool of myself. I can almost hear Bree's laughter echoing in my head. She'd be in stitches if she could see me now, chasing random women through a foreign market.

Dejected, I make my way to a nearby food stall. Might as well try some of this lángos Bree mentioned. I order one of those and learn it's deep-fried dough topped with sour cream and cheese. I sink my teeth into the pastry, savoring the comforting flavors. As I chew, I ponder my next move. Where would Bree go in this sprawling city?

Just then, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn, expecting another vendor trying to sell me something, but instead, I find myself staring into a pair of familiar emerald eyes.

"Took you long enough, Your Knightliness. I was beginning to think you'd given up."

I nearly choke on my lángos. "Bloody hell, Bree. How long have you been watching me make a fool of myself?"

She laughs, the sound like music to my ears. "Long enough to thoroughly enjoy the show. That poor woman you accosted...I thought she was going to wallop you with her shopping bag."

I grin and shake my head, enchanted by Bree's infectious laughter, and soon I'm chuckling along with her.

"Well, I'm glad I could provide such quality entertainment," I say, wiping a bit of sour cream from the corner of my mouth. "Care to join me for a lángos? I hear they're quite good here."

"Oh, I've already had my fill. But I wouldn't say no to some somlói galuska for dessert. That is, if you aren't too full."

I wave my arm in an imperious gesture. "Lead the way, love. I am never too full to enjoy a luscious Hungarian delicacy. Though nothing is as sumptuous as the taste of your cream."

She grabs my hand and drags me through the crowded market. We weave between stalls, the scents of paprika and freshly baked bread filling the air. I'm acutely aware of her small, warm hand in mine, her fingers intertwined with my own.

"So, tell me," I say as we navigate the bustling aisles, "how did you manage to stay hidden all this time? I thought I had caught you back in Athens."

Bree glances over her shoulder and winks. "A magician never reveals her secrets. But let's just say I have a few tricks up my sleeve that even you can't predict."

I smile at her playful evasion. "I'm beginning to think you missed your calling as a secret agent, love. MI6 would be lucky to have you."

She laughs, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "And give up the thrilling world of insurance underwriting? Never."

We emerge from the market into the crisp Hungarian air, the sun casting a golden glow over Budapest's stunning architecture. Bree leads me down a winding cobblestone street, her hand still firmly clasped in mine.

"So, where are we off to now?" I ask, trying to ignore the way my heart races at her touch.

"Patience, Sir Declan," Bree teases, tugging me along. "You'll see soon enough."

We wind our way through the charming streets of Budapest, passing ornate buildings and quaint cafes. I'm content to let her lead, drinking in the sight of her bouncing strawberry blonde curls and the sway of her hips.