He came to a stop in front of her mother’s cabin, and he watched her bite her bottom lip as she thought about it.
“I wouldn’t feel right about . . .” She didn’t finish, since the front porch light flipped on, and Kimberly stepped out with a robe draped around her.
“Zoey?” Her mother stepped out into the night.
He sat in the cart as Zoey rushed forward and talked to her mother on the deck.
“Mom, it’s Dad. He’s . . . well, he’s in hospice. They say he’s been fighting cancer for months.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Her mother held on to her again as Zoey cried softly on her mother’s shoulder.
When Kimberly noticed him sitting in the golf cart, she invited him in for a drink.
He followed Zoey inside and sat on Kimberly’s sofa while she made up a pitcher of lemonade. Mother and daughter talked as he listened. Kimberly filled Zoey in on how to handle making arrangements for her father.
“I’ll call around a couple places in Vegas tomorrow,” Kimberly said, hugging Zoey just before they left. “I’m sure he had his desires already planned out. Your father was always very organized in those sorts of things.”
“I’ll call you when we get there.” Zoey hugged her back.
“We?” Kimberly asked, glancing over in his direction.
“I offered to fly her to Vegas. I’ve been flying since I was sixteen,” he added, unsure why he felt the need to supply reassurance.
“Oh, that’s wonderful. I was worried about Zoey going by herself.” Kimberly walked over and grabbed him into a sudden hug. “Now I won’t be. She’ll have you there with her. She’s not a very comfortable flyer.”
He nodded and took Zoey’s hand. “We’d better head back if we’re going to be ready to leave by morning.”
Zoey hugged her mother one last time, and he heard her whisper, “I’m sorry.”
When they arrived back at the main building, he followed her up the stairs, pulling her to a stop on the second floor.
“I’m going to go get some sleep. When do you think you’ll be ready to go?” he asked.
She sighed heavily and rubbed her forehead. “How about seven?”
“I’ll meet you here.” He bent down and, before she could respond or pull away, kissed her softly on her lips. “I’m sorry about your father.”
Zoey nodded before turning and heading up the rest of the stairs.
When he entered his room, he found his brothers fast asleep. After a quick shower, he pulled out his phone and shot off a text to Joel, the family’s personal assistant, asking him to make sure the plane was full of fuel and prepped for the trip to Vegas. He also had the man arrange for a hotel, since he wasn’t sure where in Vegas they would be.
He hadn’t unpacked most of his own clothes, since they mainly wore camp uniforms. It took only a few minutes to stuff the rest of his small personal items into his overnight bag.
He crawled into his bed a few minutes later and soon drifted off to dreams about losing his own father.
When he woke, his brothers were already getting dressed.
“Going somewhere?” Owen asked, motioning to the bag he’d set at the base of his bed.
“Vegas. I’m taking Zoey there. Her father is sick.” He sat up and stretched. When he realized conversation had ceased, he glanced around. “What?”
“Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too far?” Liam asked.
“Why? Because I’m helping her out during a rough time?” He pulled on his jeans.
“We’re supposed to be finding Dad, not going off to Vegas for the weekend,” Owen said.
“Damn it.” He stood up, shoving his chest toward his brother, knowing full well that all the extra hours he’d spent outdoors had made him bigger than Owen. “If we can’t be decent humans along the way, then we’re no better than our father.”
Owen took a moment, then sighed. “Go.” He turned to head out. “Maybe you’ll find something more about the money along the way.”
Feeling a little defeated and a little grimy from all the secrets he was keeping from Zoey, he finished getting ready and met her on the stairs.
He should just come out and tell her everything. At this point, he knew things had progressed between them. Even if they hadn’t technically slept together yet, he felt something stronger for her.
But he hadn’t had the time to talk to his brothers about exposing their secrets yet. Which made him feel as if he were being pulled in two different directions.
He couldn’t help being in a foul mood but tried to hide it as he went down the stairs. Apparently, he hadn’t been successful enough.
By the time he’d put their bags into the trunk of her car, Zoey was watching him closely.
“I can book a flight, you know,” she said after getting behind the wheel.
“No.” He shook his head. “Let’s go.” He took her hand in his. “I’m in a foul mood because . . . well, brothers can be jerks.” She was dealing with a sick, possibly dead, father, and he was bitchy about keeping a stupid secret from her. His problems didn’t seem relevant at this point. Maybe his light tone would divert her.
“Are you sure?” she asked. “You’re not upset about having to—”
He stopped her by leaning down and brushing his lips across hers.
“Yes, it’s all arranged,” he replied. “Let’s head out. Everything’s waiting for us at the Destin airport.”
They both climbed into her car and drove in silence for a while as the sun rose. She pulled into a small café in Pelican Point for bagel sandwiches and coffee.
While they drove through town and ate in the car, they talked about that first summer at River Camp and how the women had all met and had grown into more than just friends over the years.
“I’ve seen it myself—you’re more like sisters,” he said.
“We call ourselves Wildflowers,” she said as she pulled into the parking lot of the airport. “Each of us is unique, but we make a great bundle.”
He interrupted her. “Long-term parking.” He pointed to the underground parking area and added, “It must be nice, having extended family like that.”
She parked and sat there for a moment. “I didn’t know how lucky until last year, when we all came together for the camps.”
“More on this later. I want to hear all about it, but for now, let’s get in the air.” He motioned.
“I have to be honest with you.” She shifted in her seat. “I’m terrible at flying.”
He smiled. “You won’t have to. I’ll do all the flying.”
Her voice quavered. “You know what I mean.”
Reaching over, he took her hand. “Trust me—this will be one of the smoothest rides of your life,” he said, deepening his voice with a hint of a smile.
There was a moment of silence, and then she burst out laughing.
“Oh god!” she said between laughs. “That was just what I needed.” She leaned forward and kissed him, then climbed out of the car and stood back as he took out their bags.
They made their way toward the private-plane-storage buildings near the end of the runway.
“Sorry for the hike.” He shifted their bags.
“Don’t be.” She glanced over at him. “You’re the one carrying all the bags.”
He chuckled. “This is us.” He motioned toward the Gulfstream his father had purchased for the three of them.
“This?” Zoey stopped. “It’s huge.”
He whispered, “That’s what she said.”
She slapped his arm playfully. “Whose plane is this, anyway?”
Shit—he hadn’t thought that far. “A friend’s. Come on, that’s Joel.” He waved to the family’s general factotum.
“So it’s his plane?” Zoey asked.
“No; he just made sure everything was ready for us. He’s a friend of the family.” He walked over and set the bags down and shook Joel’s hand. “Joel, this is Zoey; Zoey, Joel.” Joel was a few years older than Owen. He
was shorter than the three brothers but could have easily passed for part of their family. His dark hair, tan skin, and dark eyes spoke of his Greek heritage. The fact that Dylan believed that Joel could be their father’s son from a previous relationship had at one point weighed heavy on him. But now, years later, the brothers treated Joel as family, no matter if their father couldn’t own up to the fact that he was.
“Nice to meet you. I’m sorry to hear about your father,” Joel added to Zoey.
“Thank you,” Zoey replied.
Joel turned to him. “Everything’s arranged. Your flight patterns have been logged and are in the onboard system. Since you didn’t know where in Vegas you’d be staying, I’ve booked you the rooms at the Bellagio.”
“Thank you.” He picked up the bags and turned to Zoey. “Shall we?”
She nodded, then turned to Joel. “It was nice meeting you.”
“Same.” He nodded. “Have a pleasant trip.” Joel turned and started to walk back to the building.
“Go on in. I’ll just walk around the plane and make sure everything looks good.” Dylan set the bags down at the base of the ladder.
“Sure.” She started to pick up her bag, but he stopped her.
“I’ll get the bags—head on in.” He started to walk around the plane for his normal preflight checks.
When he finally climbed up the ladder, he found her standing just inside, her eyes huge. “You’re going to fly this?” she asked. “Alone?”
“No.” He shook his head, then stowed the bags in the closet and hit the button to close the door. “You’re going to be here with me,” he added. “Come on up; I’ll show you around.”
“Wait. Up front? Have you flown this before?” she asked as he opened the cockpit door.
“Almost five hundred flight hours.” He smiled and gestured for her to take the copilot seat.
“Is that a lot?” she asked as he settled down and put on his headset.
Glancing over, he said, “It’s enough to promise you that this will be a good ride.”
The corner of her mouth quirked. “Right.”
“Put on your headset.” He pointed to the headset hanging up, turned to prep the plane, and asked her, “Ready?” once he was done.
She wiped her hands on her jeans and reached down to tighten her seat belt.
“Yes,” she finally said.
He called up to the tower and found out they were fourth in line for takeoff. He made his way toward the runway and joined the queue.
“Here we go,” he said when it was their turn. After calling the tower again and getting clearance, he punched it. The acceleration forced them back in their seats as the engine noise rose, and the plane rushed down the runway.
He noticed that she remained silent the entire takeoff. That was, until he leveled off the plane.
“How are you doing over there?” Her fingers were gripping the armrests, and her knuckles were turning slightly white.
“Okay,” she said in a tense tone. “I’ve never . . . sat up front and watched a takeoff before.”
“It’s a lot different than sitting in the back. We’re going to be turning soon.” He pointed to the computer screen. “The red line is our flight pattern; we’re the blue dot.”
He was happy when she looked over and watched their progress.
“Turning . . . now?” she asked.
“Yes—watch.” He turned the wheel, and the plane tilted. He noticed that she didn’t return to gripping the armrest with her hands; instead, her eyes remained glued to the screen.
Once they were on a straight pattern to Vegas, he relaxed back and flipped on the autopilot.
“Don’t!” She jerked her head toward him. “You’re not holding the wheel.”
“It’s okay—it’s on autopilot. We’ll stay stable and on course for the next few hours.” He sighed and stretched. “Do you want some coffee?”
She shook her head, her eyes still glued to the computer system.
“Zoey”—he reached over, unbuckled her seat belt, then helped her up to stand—“it’s okay. There’s nothing but sky between us and Vegas.”
He nudged her until she stepped into the rear of the plane.
“Sit.” He motioned to one of the white leather captain chairs. “I’ll get the coffee.”
She sat, her eyes darting to the cockpit door occasionally.
“Are you sure it’s okay?”
“Yes. I’ve done this so many times.”
“It only takes one time for things to go bad,” Zoey hinted.
His smile fell. “I know; that’s why I’ll be returning up front, while you rest back here. There are plenty of movies, or if you want, there’s a full-size bedroom in the far back. You could get some rest.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “I’ll be better when you have your hands back on the wheel.”
He chuckled and handed her a cup and the thermos of coffee. “There are some sandwiches in the fridge, as well as snacks. Help yourself.” He took a soda and a bag of chips for himself. “Relax. I’ve got this. Have fun. You’ve got your own private plane with, if I might say so, one of the best pilots around. I would have thought that flying was included in your list of fun.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I prefer having fun when my feet are on the ground.”
He went back in to babysit the plane. He checked on her a few times during the flight; each time she looked more relaxed than before.
The last time he checked on her, she was relaxing in the bed, fast asleep.
Looking down at her, he wanted nothing more than to crawl in bed with her, but they were less than half an hour out of Vegas, and he knew that the traffic in the air around the city of sin was something he’d need to prepare for.
Turning away from her was harder than he’d imagined. He was looking forward to spending a few days with her, even if they had to deal with the unpleasantries.
This would be his first chance to see her away from the camp and maybe get to know more about her. The thought tickled in the back of his mind about the possibility of seeing if she knew anything more about his father.
After all, she was bound to be different when away from her friends and work. People normally were. Besides, he knew she was raw from the news about her father. He hated himself, knowing he would be, in essence, exploiting her during a weak time, but thoughts of his father in the same situation loomed over him.
CHAPTER TEN
Zoey woke when the plane tilted slightly. Then Dylan’s voice came over the intercom.
“We’re heading down into Vegas. I thought you might want to come up front to watch the landing.”
She stretched her arms over her head, then rolled her shoulders. The first part of the flight had been pretty tense, until she’d sat in the back and told herself over and over and over again that it was safer than driving.
Now as she made her way up to the front, she wondered if the landing would stress her out as much as the takeoff had.
She strapped into the seat beside him, glanced around, and saw the city in front of them.
“It looks so different from up here,” she said, leaning back in the seat.
“It looks cleaner,” he replied with a grin. “Have you been to Vegas?”
“A few times. You?”
“Yeah.” He checked the instrument panel. “Did your dad live here long?”
“He moved here after he divorced Mom and married Bridgette. She used to be a dancer, and after they married, she convinced my dad that she should return to it.”
“What kind of business was your father in?” he asked.
“Investments, like his father had been.” She had never really paid too much attention as a child. “I don’t think I ever remember him working hard—you know, nine-to-five type of work. I know that he was always traveling, and when he was home . . .” She glanced out the window as the plane pitched slightly. Still, she didn’t have an urge to dig her nails into the armrests like she had at takeoff. “Life
was different.”
“Did your parents not get along?”
“No.” She thought about it. “Actually, it was the opposite. I never remember them fighting. They had what Scar and I liked to call ‘polite disagreements.’ My father never raised his voice, but his words could cut my mother down, just the same.”
Dylan fell silent for a moment. “I heard someone say that Elle’s grandfather took you in and taught you how to sail?”
She smiled at the instant memories and settled back in her seat. “He was really the first genuine father figure I’d ever experienced. Actually, I think that’s true for all of us.”
She was surprised at the bump when the tires finally touched the ground, and he taxied to the hangar—she hadn’t even noticed the landing.
“That was a lot easier than takeoff. Will it stay here until we return home?” she asked as she followed him out of the airplane. She’d watched him shut everything down and had been curious as to what would happen to it next.
“Yes, it’ll get serviced and given a full tank of gas for the trip home.” He swung his bag over his shoulder and took hers after hitting the button to lower the ladder. “Joel’s taken care of everything.”
“Speaking of Joel,” she said once they were in the rental car that had been waiting for them. “He seems to be really connected to your business.”
“He is. Actually, he’s an employee—my father hired him fresh out of school. He’s been an asset as well as a friend of the family ever since.”
“Is he . . .” She paused, unsure how to ask him if the man was related to him. Maybe he didn’t even know the answer, but just by looking at them, it was sort of obvious. “Related?”
“We’re not sure,” he said. “But yeah, we get that a lot. Every time we ask our father, he looks like he’s been hit in the gut.”
Zoey nodded and leaned back in the seat as Dylan drove away from the airport. She couldn’t explain it, but knowing she was going to be dealing with her father had wiped her out. Even after a full hour’s rest on the plane, she could sleep for another ten.
Summer Nights Page 13
