by Olivia Luck
“This”—he waves to our neat pile of luggage—“is a good look for us. Don’t you think?” he asks casually when we enter the private elevator.
I hum my acknowledgement.
“Like one well-matched package,” he muses softly.
As the elevator descends, my heart takes a flying leap into the air.
The Grant’s private jet waits patiently for us at Chicago Midway Airport. Max, Harris’ driver, parks the car no more than twenty yards from where the airplane stands proudly in front of the rising sun. It hasn’t set in until this moment that Harris’ decided to take me away for one night, and is doing so easily with the help of his family’s airplane.
“This is strange,” I admit nervously from next to him in the car.
“You’ll get used to it,” Harris announces with a peck to my forehead. “Come on, baby.”
Max opens the passenger door for Harris, who slides out of the vehicle easily like we haven’t only slept for a few hours. As I scramble to throw my travel tote over my shoulder and climb out of the vehicle, Harris extends his large palm to me.
“Ready?” He winks reassuringly when I’m by his side.
Now I am.
“Yes.”
While Max carries our luggage, Harris escorts me to the airplane steps. An older gentleman in a pilot’s uniform stands in the space of the aircraft’s open door, looking incredibly alert for such an early flight time.
“Good morning,” he greets us warmly when we’re at the base of the steps.
“Morning, Peter,” Harris says. “This is my girlfriend, Edith; she doesn’t know where we’re going. If you wouldn’t mind, keep the flight plan quiet.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss. Please don’t ask me where we’re going, I have a hard time keeping my mouth shut. Just ask my wife.” Peter’s eyes dance playfully, and he has a cheek-splitting smile plastered across his face.
Good thing he’s chipper.
“Okay, I wouldn’t want to get you into any trouble with this one,” I say, poking Harris’ waist with my elbow.
“My Edith knows me too well,” he says wryly. “After you.” Harris extends an arm ahead of us and I climb the short staircase. Peter has moved out of the entryway, back into the cockpit, I presume.
Inside the airplane I have to stifle a gasp. Sure, I thought it would be luxurious, but I never guessed the plush carpeting under my feet or the long stretch of a beige leather sofa against half the length of the cabin. Across from the couch is a cozy seat set on a swivel. There’s also a flat screen TV, and two sets of large leather chairs with a table set between them. In the back of the plane, there’s a galley kitchen.
I don’t realize I’m blocking Harris’ entry into the airplane until he speaks right next to my ear. “We can’t take off until we’re both inside.”
“Oh! Yes, of course.” My cheeks heat and I take a few more steps inside the cabin. I drop my purse onto a leather chair and then my body onto the couch, curling my feet to my side. Harris puts his own travel bag down, then slides into the space next to me, stretching his arm along the length of the sofa. Immediately, I drop my head to his warm, inviting chest.
“Can we sit in these seats for takeoff?”
“Whatever you wish.” He drops a kiss on my forehead. “The flight is less than two hours, but why don’t you try and rest? We’ll eat when we get there, unless you want something now.”
A sleepy yawn slips out, and I don’t try to stifle it. My eyes begin to droop shut, lulled into relaxation by Harris’ familiar and comforting scent.
“Harris, we’ll be leaving in fifteen,” I hear the pilot say.
Before we take off, I’m fast asleep.
“Wake up, baby, we’re almost here.” Hot breath tickles my ear and I reach up to bat it away. My hand hits warm flesh, and before my eyes open, I feel myself grin.
“Harris,” I whisper sleepily.
“Time to get up. We’ll head out as soon as we land.”
I blink my eyes open. During the plane ride, Harris arranged my body, so I’m draped across his lap. He smiles down at me tenderly.
“Ready for your surprise?”
That pulls me from the comforts of slumber. “Yes!” Using his chest for leverage, I move into a seated position and smooth down my braided hair. Turning around quickly, I peer out the window. Unfortunately, only flat lands are visible.
“Where are we?”
“Not yet,” he says, then plucks his cell phone from a slot in the armrest of the couch. Something on the screen captures his attention and he types a response. Sighing, I lean against the seat, waiting impatiently to get out of the plane. The pilot grants my wish; a few minutes later the landing gear bumps along the runway.
When we come to a stop, I hop up eagerly. “What’s next?”
“We’re meeting someone for breakfast,” he informs me, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Driving for about thirty.”
“I’ll get cleaned up. Is this a fancy affair?” I ask, wondering if my clothing is up to par for whatever events lie ahead of us.
“You’re perfect as you are,” he tells me.
Rolling my eyes outwardly, but inwardly pleased by his praise, I take my purse to the bathroom in the back of the cabin. Within a few minutes, my hair is brushed and re-braided, teeth sparkle with cleanliness, and eyelashes curled with a few wisps of mascara.
No one has ever gone to such great lengths for me. The concept thrills me, that Harris took the time and effort to plan a trip on such short notice. To think we smoothed over the painful ripples in our relationship on Wednesday, and it’s only Saturday now.
Meeting my gaze in the reflection of the small bathroom mirror, I can’t suppress my smile. It stretches across easily, permanently.
What a wild ride.
Revived from my nap, I hurry out of the bathroom. The plane door is already open, Harris no longer inside.
With one step outside the aircraft, I feel it—oppressive humidity curling its fingers around my body. Maybe we’re in Florida.
Harris waits for me near a sleek, black sedan. He chats with a tall man in a black suit, the driver, I guess.
“Patrick, ma’am,” he says when I approach.
“Pleased to meet you, Patrick. I’m Edith.” My grin’s still in place, no need to request it.
“Ready?” Harris asks.
“So ready!” I laugh. Patrick opens the car door and I slide in ahead of Harris. When he joins me in the car, his citrusy scent wraps around me. On impulse, I lean across the bench seat and kiss his cheek.
“Whatever this is, wherever we are, thank you for giving me this gift.”
“Wait for it, baby,” he says softly, because Patrick’s now in the front seat, accelerating away from the airfield. “The best parts are still ahead of us.”
His phone buzzes in his pocket, reminding me that I haven’t checked mine once this morning. When I power the device on, I have a text.
Sarah: I know you’re in the middle of a love fest with Harris and I’m so thrilled for you. But I need to know—what are you doing?
Eddie: I’m sorry for neglecting you over the past few days. Harris took me away on some super-sleuth vacation! We just landed, I have no idea where, trying to figure it out. What are you doing?
Sarah: The family is in town for the weekend, on our way to brunch. Have fun and CALL ME.
Eddie: Love you
I stash the phone back into my bag and my eyes flicker to the view from the window. There aren’t any road signs until…
“Washington, D.C. in less than fifteen miles!” I gasp.
“Welcome back,” Harris says with a smug grin.
I launch myself at him, throwing my arms around his neck and pressing kisses all over his cheeks.
“You brought me home?”
“Does this make you happy?”
“Happy is the low end of what I’m feeling—try blissful. What event could I possibly need a cocktail dress for here?” I wonder as I settle back in
to my seat.
Harris grasps my hand in his, brushing his lips across my knuckles. “Would you trust me to plan all of our time here? I’m not bullheaded enough to think I could do a better job of touring your hometown than you, but there’s not much time for anything other than what I have planned. I am bullheaded enough to know you’ll be very pleased by the time we leave tomorrow.”
“Okay, this time you can plan our D.C. trip.”
He nods agreeably, unfazed by the unspoken promise for more trips here.
“Then sit back and enjoy.”
Soon I find it impossible to sit still. What does Harris have up his sleeve? Now more than ever I want to tell him I love him. Imagining him organizing the details of a trip that I would enjoy causes a warmth to roll through my chest, my heart feeling fuller than ever. Instinctively I know not to ask him if we’ll see my father or Sarah while we’re here. Harris will take me where I want to go.
That little trickster! I think back on the texts I just exchanged with Sarah. She must know I’m here.
With each minute, my excitement grows. The car begins passing familiar landmarks and I’m practically bouncing up and down in my seat. Not because I missed this place so much, but because on the other end of this ride will be a father who wants to see me and friends that missed me as much as I missed them.
Less than thirty minutes later, Patrick slows the car to a stop in front of a diner that my dad loves. Before Patrick can exit the car and open the door, Harris climbs out, all masculine and strong. I scurry after him and sling my purse over my shoulder.
Standing outside the restaurant with his arms crossed casually over his chest, wearing a pair of mirrored aviators and looking very much the cop, waits Dad. As soon as he sees me, his arms fall to his sides and he grins. Before I think about what I’m doing, my feet carry me over to him. Behind us, Harris discusses something with the driver.
“He called you to arrange this?” I ask softly as I step into a hug.
“He did more than that.”
“Don, good to see you again,” Harris says smoothly from behind us. They exchange a friendly handshake like they’ve known each other for more than just a couple interludes. It reminds me of the way they parted ways in Chicago and I’m curious to know how and when they’ve gotten to know each other better.
We follow Dad into the folksy, no-frills restaurant. When we enter, the hostess welcomes my father with familiar conversation, asking about his work. Then she takes us to a booth next to a wall of windows facing the sidewalk. Harris takes my side of the bench seating, resting his palm on my thigh when we’re settled.
“Do you care to explain how you scheduled this meeting with my dad when he is typically sleeping during this time?”
“What’s good here?” Harris evades.
“Ed, things have changed at the station,” Dad says, ignoring the menu in front of him. He always orders the same thing: the deluxe breakfast special omelet, pancakes, and bacon.
“What does that mean?”
“I’ve taken on a bigger role behind a desk, and I’m working days now.”
“That sounds like another way of saying you got promoted,” I say, suspiciously excited.
“What can I get ya’ll?” a college-aged waitress interrupts. She holds a coffee pot, offering us a beverage that we all eagerly accept.
Dad orders as I guessed he would; Harris and I each select our own dishes.
“Go on,” I urge my dad once she’s left.
“It’s something they’ve been pushing on me for a while now,” Dad grumbles modestly.
“Congratulations on your new job, Dad,” I say softly, to not embarrass him.
“Cheers to that,” Harris says, lifting his coffee cup in salute.
“I’m not letting up that easily,” I teasingly tell Harris. The fingers around my leg give a gentle squeeze. Then he starts drumming some random beat, sending jolts of electricity coursing through my body.
“Tell me why you and Dad look like longtime buddies.”
The tapping on my thigh ceases, and Harris moves his hand to capture mine on the tabletop. “When you moved out of Claire’s apartment, your father told me to give you some space.” My eyes flicker to my dad, who watches us uncertainly. “At first I wanted to tell him to shove off”—Harris’ lips twitch upward—“but then I realized that as much as I wanted to be a hard-headed asshole and push him away, he had a point. Also, the man wanted the same thing I did—your forgiveness.”
Bump, bump, bump, my heart thumps in my chest. Everything around me mutes while my attention remains rapt to the two most influential men in my life.
“Once I calmed down, I told him he needed to start mending your hurt, because I had already caused enough damage,” Harris murmurs.
Tears well up in my eyes and I blink rapidly to keep them hidden.
Dad clears his throat. “I wasn’t sure that he was good enough for you; I mean, look at the guy.”
I nearly snort out a tuft of laughter. Harris looks statuesque as usual in a fitted gray T-shirt and light-washed jeans.
“He cleans up nicely, though,” I tease.
Harris shakes his head and leans back into the red cushioned seatback. “I made Luke get Don’s number. Before that night we all went to the bar I called and asked for his permission to date you.”
What? My eyes fly to his unblinking stare. Suddenly we could be anywhere—the moon, Paris, Antarctica. I wouldn’t notice because all of my attentions are focused straight on Harris.
“I betrayed your trust and his. I wanted your father to know that if you would be mine, I would take care of you. I apologized to him for the mistakes I made with you in the past, and assured him that it wouldn’t happen again.”
His hands reach up to cup my cheeks and he tugs me closer, our lips a breath apart. “Baby, you forgive me, right?”
“I forgave you days ago.”
His eyes shut and the terse facial expression gentles. “Good.” He touches my lips in the most tender of kisses.
I fall back against the back of the booth with a whoosh of breath. Slowly the word around me returns and I find myself studying my father. He watches us with the oddest smile like a pleased king overseeing his subjects.
“Don’t worry. I told him if he messed up one more time he wouldn’t like the outcome,” Dad says. Though his expression remains light, there’s no mistaking the seriousness in his tone.
“That won’t be a problem,” Harris agrees.
At that moment, the waitress arrives with our food, breaking the momentous encounter.
I’m at a loss of what to say. To think these two reserved men had such in-depth conversations about me is startling.
He loves you. The thought pops in organically. Tonight, I decide in that moment, tonight I will tell him. There’s no need to wait any longer; he’s demonstrated in many ways how he feels about me. Calmness settles my stomach, soothing the unease that had been brewing since the alarm sang this morning.
While we eat, the topic of conversation turns lighter; Dad and Harris discuss prospects for the upcoming football season. Meanwhile I observe their easy banter. The meal happens so naturally, I almost wonder if we’ve been having it for years.
The waitress stops by to ask if we want anything else and when we decline, she leaves the check sleeve on the center of the table.
Dad retrieves his wallet and slaps a few bills on the table. “We’ll have to meet like this more often.” His voice is gruff, masking emotion.
“I’d like that,” I pipe in.
Harris extends his long legs as he climbs out of the booth, offering his hand to help me up. “Then I’ll make it happen.”
Outside the restaurant, Dad engulfs me in another sturdy embrace. “Enjoy the rest of your time here. And don’t forget, if he hurts your heart again, I have friends in the Chicago PD.”
Giggling, I retract from the embrace, giving a smirking Harris a smile. “Dad, I have complete faith that won’t be an issue.”
/> Dad slaps Harris on the back. “Thanks for bringing her to me.”
“Anytime.” Harris slings an arm around my shoulder, leading back to the waiting car.
Looking over my shoulder, I give one final wave to my father, who watches us with a content smile.
“Bye, Dad!”
Harris hugs me against his side and I press the side of my face to his chest in response.
I can’t believe he went to all this trouble for me.
When we reach our ride, Patrick has the door open and we both climb into the back seat. The second Patrick shuts the passenger door, I throw myself at Harris. My hands curl into fists around his T-shirt. I yank him closer and slant my head to the side. My tongue darts out to drift along the seam of his closed-mouth smile.
With a growl, his arms curl around my waist, hauling me closer. Everything I’m feeling in that moment falls into the kiss. Harris’ actions feel just as urgent as mine, fingernails digging into me as his lips devour mine.
The slamming of the driver door causes me to jump back, breathing heavily.
“Does this guy not see we’re busy?” Harris mutters, yanking me back to his side.
“Sorry?” the driver says hesitantly from the front seat.
“Nothing!” Harris barks, then takes a deep, unsteady breath. “We’re fine, thanks. We’ll just go to our next destination now.”
Pressing my face to his neck, I attempt to smother my smile.
“You think this is funny,” he says in his dark, teasing way.
“Kind of.”
One hand slithers around my lower back, reaching my ass and giving it a squeeze.
“Harris!”
“No laughing,” he growls, then captures my mouth in his, nibbling at my lower lip. “You taste like cheddar cheese,” he mumbles against my mouth.
Placing my palms on his chest, I shove the playful Harris backward. “Where to next?”
“You’ll see.” He tugs his phone from his denim pocket and begins texting again.
“You know, Sarah said she’s with her family this weekend. She probably won’t have time to see us,” I tell him casually.
