Finally, the aisle begins to clear, and I climb from my seat. “You’re right.”
“I know it’s not easy,” she says, her voice a bit softer. “You both have feelings for each other and all of us on the outside can see it, but there is so much up in the air right now—for both of you.”
“You’re right.”
“I’m right?! Of course I’m right. You just signed on to film a pilot for TV. Television. If that gets picked up, you’ll be going places.”
“You too,” I say with a smile, warming at the fresh memory.
We got the news yesterday, signed the contracts today. Nick Bennett secured us positions to film the pilot of a new female comic-centric show. Nothing is set in stone yet, but it’s a better start than we’ve ever had before.
“At least I know that you and me, we’re going places together.”
“Damn straight!” She laughs. “I’d handcuff myself to you before I let them drag us apart, but that’s not all you’ve got going for you. Graduation is around the corner. You’ll have your degree. You have a job and a family who loves you. We’ll find an apartment together so I can get rid of Derrick for good.”
“You’re right,” I agree. Life’s really not so bad. “But I’m still nervous.”
She lets out a long sigh. “What are you wearing?”
I look down. I have on everything. “Everything,” I tell her. “Ryan told me to be prepared. Minnesota has unpredictable weather.”
She sucks her breath back in. “You know it’s August, right?”
“Yes.”
“It’s too late now, I suppose,” she says. “Go. Get off the phone with me, then get off with Ryan.”
“Jeez, you’re crude.”
“I’m honest.”
“Bye,” I say as my phone beeps with a message.
It’s from him.
Ryan: I’m here.
Those two little words have me ready to collapse back into my seat, even if it means giving the creepy old man next to me a peek down my V-neck t-shirt. I can’t wait to see him, but I’m not ready, either.
Plus, I’m really really hot—literally. Since I didn’t quite know what to wear on the plane—Ryan warned me multiple times that the weather in Minnesota is finicky at best, disastrous at worst—I wore everything.
Being a Cali girl, I know exactly two sorts of weather: sunshine, and a little bit more sunshine. Therefore, to battle this so-called ‘unpredictable’ weather, I wore clothing to be prepared for all occasions: a t-shirt, a cardigan, a rain jacket, knee-high boots over skinny jeans, and a pair of gloves tucked into my pocket. Judging by the attire of other passengers, I am slightly overdressed. Most women here are sporting shorts or dresses.
Damn, I should’ve checked the weather before getting on the plane, but I was running late after signing contracts, and I don’t have any room in my bags to stash additional clothes. Therefore, I’m stuck wearing all of it, and now I’m about to die from overheating.
The line moves along. “Did you come from the North Pole?” The man behind me crinkles his old, fluffy eyebrows and I frown at the amount of hair poking out of his nose. “All you need is a team of sled dogs.”
“Funny,” I murmur.
“You look good,” he says. “Would look better with less clothes, I bet. I have to say, I overheard you talking to your friend on the phone, and—”
“Bye,” I say, bursting through the gates of the plane. I’m running down the terminal dragging my carry-on behind me. I’m breathing heavily—between the running and the clothes, it’s like a sweat lodge in here.
I don’t have the patience to deal with my new-old friend; I’m already rattled enough. Heading to a new state with a guy I hardly know is more than enough to do the trick.
Sure, I’ve talked on the phone with Ryan more than I’ve ever talked to anyone in my life. It sort of feels like we’ve known each other forever, but in the grand scheme of things, we’re new, and the feelings are strong.
I don’t stop jogging until it’s too late, and I barrel into the waiting area. I mean to dodge the other passengers and slow down, maybe use the restroom to reapply perfume and mascara, scrub some of that gross airplane air off of me, but I’m totally out of it. I crash into the first pair of arms I see.
The embrace is familiar, his arms strong as bricks, muscle twined beautifully underneath a simple white shirt. These arms are attached to a sturdy torso, a chest so firm I let out a puff of air as I hit it, losing what little breath I have left.
The legs underneath this torso are gorgeous in a pair of worn jeans, as if someone styled Ryan Pierce for a country fashion catalogue, and of course all these body parts are attached to the sexiest face on the planet.
“You sure are in a hurry to see someone,” he says, those chocolate eyes of his melting my stomach to nothing. “I sure hope it’s me.”
“Yes,” I say. “Definitely yes.”
His eyes twinkle, and in the next second he’s got me dipped, carry-on and all, in front of all the passengers and airline staff. I hear at least one woman sigh, and a man near the back whistles loud enough to pop an eardrum.
The kiss is just as fantastic as I remember, if not better. Our month apart has both of us burning for more, and if I’m not mistaken, one or both of us will spontaneously combust into flames as soon as we’re alone.
“Hi,” he whispers against my neck as he returns me to my feet.
“Hi,” I say back.
“Let’s get out of here.” He grabs my hand. “Please.”
I nod, mute, and follow him.
He leads me through the airport, and I have to admit, I feel like a queen. Ryan Pierce didn’t only pick me up from the airport, he showed me off to the world, and by George—whoever George actually is—I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.
If we part ways after this wedding, my heart is going to hurt.
A part of me wishes I’d played by the rules, had never let any of this evolve into anything more than the physical relationship I requested.
But the other part of me, that little corner of my heart that my dad tugged at with his words of advice—that part of me is content.
Despite all my efforts to remain distant, I am falling in love with Ryan Pierce.
CHAPTER 37
Ryan
She’s even more beautiful than I remember. Despite the odd getup she’s got on, she’s the prettiest person in the entire airport. We shuffle into my waiting car, which I parked illegally at the curb while praying airport security would be light during the lunch hour.
I hold my breath as we push through the doors.
“Where are you parked?” she asks, scanning the pickup lane.
“Here.” I gesture to the truck right before us, its hazards blinking.
“But—” She frowns and bites her lip, and it’s the most adorable thing ever. I want to lean over, nibble on that lip for her, but she’s too busy glancing furiously toward the man in a security uniform strolling toward my vehicle.