Struggling not to cringe visibly, I take a quick glance across the cabin in the direction of the loud, off-key singing.

Sophia looks like the American dream sitting here in the front seat of my drop-top red Chevy. With sunglasses tucked into her dark, windblown hair and her flirty little floral top slipping off her shoulders...

But as she tries to hit the highest note of Tom Cochrane's Life is a Highway, she sounds like she’s being strangled by her seatbelt. I glance over at her just to make sure she’s okay.

Our eyes meet and the widest smile curls her lips. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

I live for that smile. There's no way in hell I'm killing her vibe by telling her to shut the hell up with that singing. I’ll listen to her disharmonious vocals until my ears bleed if it means I get to see her happy.

As I bring my eyes back to the open road stretching ahead of us, I grab her hand across the console. I bring her palm to my lips. "You're just beautiful, that's all."

She’s not fooled, though. "I'm sorry. My singing must be awful." Laughing, she closes her eyes and drops her skull against the head rest. The sun kisses her face and neck. "I really needed this." Her head rotates to the side and she stares at me with worried eyes. "Don't get me wrong—I love our daughter—”

"You don't have to convince me, Daisy. I see it every time you look at her."

She squeezes my hand and continues. “It’s just that I haven’t had a getaway, a minute to breathe in two years. I've been operating in panic mode every day. On emergency setting, y’know? And it's just nice to take a breath. Finally." She pulls air into her lungs.

“Well, you deserve it,” I tell her. “And this weekend, I’m going to make sure you have the time of your life.”

"I can’t wait.”

We have no destination in mind. It’s just me and my girl doing one of my favorite things, cruising in the Chevy, discovering new towns, meeting new people.

As we approach the upcoming exit, I reach across and brush her windblown tendrils from her face. "How about we stop and grab a bite to eat?"

With a big grin, Sophia nods. "Yes, let's do that."

I merge onto the off-ramp and soon, we’re riding along a narrow cobblestone road that runs parallel to a beautiful waterfront. Yachts and speedboats are docked in the harbor and tourists duck in and out of the little artisanal shops and boutiques that line the other side of the street. Sophia’s eyes are alight as she takes it all in. My heart jives around when I see how fascinated and happy she looks. I love being at least somewhat responsible for that look on her face.

“You see anything you like?” I ask as we drive by a grouping of fancy-looking restaurants with nice terraces and well-dressed waiters.

She leans across, her attention fixed on the crooked sign hanging off of a rundown building across the street. "Merlini's Sandwich Bar...That looks good."

Surrounded by all these elegant, touristy restaurants, she chooses the shabby deli with the crooked sign. We’ve come a long way since that burrito shack in Vegas. I can’t help but smile. “Sure. Why not?”

Pulling up to the curb, I put the car in park. Sophia digs around in her purse for some lipstick and before she’s finished swiping it on, I'm at her door, holding it open. She places her hand in mine to exit and there's really no way to describe how good that makes me feel. Caring for her and River is my purpose now and it's satisfying on the deepest level.

With her arm looped through mine, I make a big deal of looking both ways before we cross the narrow roadway. I even hold up my hand like a stop sign, commanding an oncoming minivan to slow down.

She tilts her head back and roars. "You're so silly."

Once we're on the sidewalk, I kiss her cheek. "I take my job of protecting you very seriously, Sophia. Nothing happens to you or River. Not on my watch." I believe deeply that a man isn’t a man unless he can protect his family.

She stops walking and takes my face between her hands. "I can live with that." She slides her lips over mine as people mill around us. "It feels good to be taken care of." There’s a tremor in her voice when she says it.

The asshole she was with before me didn’t treat her the way she deserved. That mistreatment made her build up all kinds of defense mechanisms, thinking she had to do it all herself, that she couldn’t rely on anyone else for help. Well, you know what—she’s mine now and I have her back. No matter what.

"Get used to it, Daisy. I’m the kind of man who goes all in to protect what’s mine. There's no getting rid of me now." I give her butt a firm tap. She yelps, clinging to the front of my T-shirt, and I grin slyly. "Come. Let's go feed you."

I drag her into the dingy sandwich shop and it's bustling. Each of the weathered plastic chairs is taken and each table is littered with soda cups and potato chips and mouth-watering sandwiches.

We're at the back of the line and from where I’m standing, I can’t even get a glimpse of the menu or of the deli-style food display on the other side of the cash register. I'm gradually losing hope that we'll get to eat sometime before the turn of the century.

At the far end of the counter, past the line of workers busily taking the orders and assembling the sandwiches is an angry little blonde in her twenties. She wears an almost trance-like look on her face as she whacks at the counter with a meat hammer and food particles fly up all around.

Looking alarmed, Sophia turns to me and whispers into my chest. "What the hell is she doing?"

"I think she's murdering our food." I murmur out the side of my mouth. “They’re taking fresh produce to a whole new level in here.”

Sophia snorts through her nose. "Do you think we should leave?"

"Not a chance.” I puff up my chest. “You've got me here to protect you if shit goes down."

She nods. "Right."

The tall, quirky girl standing in line in front of us leans over her shoulder and whispers. "That's Iris. She's one of the owners. She's going through a divorce and her fave emotional outlet these days is hammering olives and ginger and garlic into submission."

Sophia's face softens with sympathy as she watches the blonde. "Oh...we all deal with our baggage in different ways, huh?"

"I guess.” The stranger nods. “And the food seems to taste better since she started going all hammer-crazy on it. But maybe that’s just me." She pauses and eyes us curiously. "Where are you folks from?"

"Copper Heights," I supply proudly and flash Sophia a wink. Yup, Copper Heights is my home now. I might as well claim it.

My girl stretches a hand out. "I'm Sophia." I watch as the women shake hands.

"Archie,” I tell her. With a lopsided grin, I shake her hand, too.

“I’m Penny. I'm a local girl. Born and raised in this god-forsaken town." She says theatrically with a woeful sigh.

Sophia laughs. "It's beautiful here. The waterfront. The shops. The funky European vibe. I wouldn’t mind being from around here.”

Penny waves a hand through the air. "It’s pretty cool until the tourists invade every summer. And then you can’t even get a sandwich around here without losing two years off of your life expectancy." She laughs but it sounds kind of sad. "It's not like I'm going anywhere, so I should stop complaining."

I wrap my arms around Sophia's middle and pull her into my chest. The top of her perky ass nestles right against my crotch. Where it belongs. "Why's that?" I ask Penny as the line inches forward.

Her face grows red with embarrassment. She flinches. "Walker Kingston has had my heart in a chokehold since kindergarten. I'm the ultimate cliche. The girl secretly pining away over her best friend."

Sophia's fingers tighten around my forearm. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

Penny shakes her head dismissively, playing it off as if it’s no big deal. "Ack! I'm the one who should be apologizing. You guys don't even know me and here I am spilling my guts." She heaves a hell of a sigh as she steps up to the counter to order. "Welcome to Crescent Harbor—land of sailboats, charming architecture and local melodrama." She chuckles sarcastically. "Who knows...maybe someday someone'll write a book about it.”