A note? What the hell would that fix? He was pretty sure no apology had ever begun or ended with a schmuck leaving a call me note with a woman’s roommate. “Which airport? What time is her flight?”
“JFK.” The unnamed roommate glanced at the activity band on her arm. “After her hot stone massage, but if you get there early enough, there are free cocktails in the Delta Sky Lounge. She has a membership, so if I had to guess, I’d look there.” The roommate shrugged. “It’s always five o’clock somewhere, especially when your heart’s been broken.”
He’d broken her heart?
Great.
Also, JFK was a madhouse at all times. Maybe less so at night, but he was still screwed. He’d never find her in that throng. Especially without more specific information. “Thanks,” he yelled, running to the street and flagging a cab. As crazy as Grady probably looked, he was surprised the guy stopped.
Grady gave the driver his address and was promptly punished with a New York-worthy U-turn, probably illegal, on the icy road. When the cab stopped at his building, Grady threw him a twenty—overkill at its finest—and ran up the stairs to get his computer.
There were about a thousand ways he could miss her in that airport, and only one way he could be sure he wouldn’t. He picked up his cell and held it a moment, debating the complete ass-hattery of his plan, before coming to the rapid conclusion that seeing Olivia would be worth the fallout.
Assuming he could get clearance.
To that end, he called his contact and cut to the chase. Sort of. “Am I still on the list to test your online security?” he asked the man who answered.
“For?” Bob sounded amused, which was amusing in itself. People with the federal government, especially the guys who had been there forever, seldom had a smile in their voices.
“Grady Donovan.”
The clacking of keys filled the dead space. “Unless you’ve been arrested and it hasn’t hit the system yet, then you’re still good.”
“All I needed to know,” Grady said. He still had his written credentials, but if there was a time to double check, it was now.
He hung up with Bob, then proceeded to make a litany of other phone calls, each one seemingly more ridiculous than the last.
There was just one thing left.
He woke his computer and did one of the shittiest things he’d ever done in his life.
He hacked into TSA and put Olivia on the no-fly list.
Chapter Twelve
Olivia stared at the security agent. “I’m on the no-fly list? You’re kidding.”
The burly agent, utterly lacking in humor, didn’t crack a smile. “Miss, we don’t kid. Please step aside.”
“I bought this ticket yesterday. Wouldn’t someone have told me?” Crap. Triple crap. So much for that floaty, post-massage feeling. Her stress levels were now jacked into overdrive. She normally hit the TSA line early, then the Delta Sky Lounge. This time she’d run into an old friend and had nursed her drinks at an airport bar, pre-security. Figured, the first time in her life she wasn’t dutifully early, she hit a snag. A severely understated snag.
“Please step aside.” TSA man’s tone had changed, not for the better, and by now, they’d garnered the attention of onlookers.
She blinked, a beat slow to the realization that this guy was serious. “How do I get off the list? How did I get on the list? It’s not like I—”
Her jaw snapped shut. Dammit.
Grady.
If he was good enough to blow holes in her program, he could sure as hell put her on the no-fly list.
She took a deep, unsteady breath of stale airport air and spun on her heel, realizing a bit late that she might need to clear her exit with security, but she didn’t get far.
A guy with a luggage cart veered in front of her and made no attempt to move. At least not until she tried to go around him, at which point they did that stupid dance people do when they both try to dodge in the same direction at once. Only this time, she’d swear it was on purpose.
When she opened her mouth to ask the guy what his problem was, she realized who he was supposed to be. A rock star with a luggage cart, blocking her way. What the hell, Billy Idol? Or at least a decent lookalike. One who wore a grin that didn’t belong on any person in any airport ever. People might smile when they got on their planes, or in their cabs, but definitely not anywhere near the TSA line.
And this guy was milking it.
The moment struck her as strangely familiar, and she only had to rack her brain for a few seconds before she realized why—he was the same rock star who’d blocked Drew Barrymore’s soon-to-be ex-boyfriend inside an airplane in the movie The Wedding Singer. She tried to go around him, but he veered in front of her again with his trademark-infringed lopsided grin-sneer, and she couldn’t help feeling like he was trying to steer her to the right.
Which made absolutely no sense.
She veered right and ended up in the center of the airport lounge, away from the security screening lines. Billy Idol-esque shot her an approving wink. Before she could say anything—because really, what would she say?—a shrill stretch of static bit through air, silencing the murmurs of the crowd. In the moment that followed, the first words of “You’ve Lost that Loving Feeling” filled the void over the loudspeaker.
People stared.
People also began to do double takes at her lookalike rock star, but they were understandably distracted by what looked like a five-person band, decked out in fake Naval dress whites.
Top Gun. Sort of.
She looked around, wondering what the occasion for this bizarre flash mob was, and what on earth Billy Idol had to do with any of it. Maybe someone was getting proposed to, and she and her roller bag were standing right smack in the middle of it. She swiveled her gaze around, looking for the exit farthest away from Fake Billy, who had strode into the band’s midst and was now strumming a bass guitar, oddly enough, his spiky white-blond head a beacon.
She had to get out of this crowd and get herself back on the list of people who were allowed on planes. If she didn’t put some distance between herself and her real life…not likely, not being able to fly. Which had been cruel and pointless, because as far as she could tell, Grady wasn’t even there.
Which was a good thing, because if she ever saw him again, she was going to kill him.
She had her chance sooner than she expected, because there he was, emerging from the middle of the choir.
Her heart flailed. Not in the you are dead to me way, either. More of a traitorous series of cartwheels, because she was suddenly far too aware of what she adored about him, which was inconvenient, considering he’d ruined her vacation. And her job. Sort of. He’d only been doing his job, so she couldn’t fault him for that, but he’d figured it out before she had, and he’d kept that from her. The betrayal stung.
But if she’d ever thought that betrayal compared to what her ex had done, she was wrong. Really wrong. Everything in front of her eyes was evidence to that, because for a man who wasn’t in love with romance, he’d sure pulled out all the stops.
And there wasn’t an ounce of cockiness in his expression. Or even pride.
This wasn’t about what he could do.
It was about what he was willing to do for her.
Idiot.
She fought back the first threat of tears when she realized what he wore. A white T-shirt with “As You Wish” written on it in black Sharpie. An unimpressive bandana-wearing stick figure beside the words was probably supposed to be the Dread Pirate Roberts from The Princess Bride. And her romance-hating, ex-one-night-stand held a piece of blank white poster board.
The man had clearly spent the last several hours of his life Googling fairytale endings and piecing them together with masking tape.
And if he thought that changed anything, he was out of luck.
She didn’t want him to be some guy from a movie. She didn’t want someone else’s hero…she wanted her own.
God help
her, she still wanted him. The way he was. Wrong for her, but completely right.
The song ended with him directly in front of her, people as far as she could see having abandoned their airport things to stare.
He flipped the card around, but she was too busy staring back to realize right away what it said. It wasn’t until she looked down and made out the words, “To me, you are perfect” that a lump formed in her throat and quickly slid to her chest, where it blossomed into a giant ball of hope. He’d pulled together every ridiculous grand gesture she could imagine, and he didn’t even believe in gestures.
Which meant he believed they had something worth pursuing. It was with that realization that she started to cry. Not the sweet, romantic movie grand-gesture cry where a single tear falls daintily down the heroine’s rosy, beautiful cheek, but big, ugly, horking sobs that were sure to send him running for the hills. And she couldn’t stop.
“Love Actually,” she managed to choke out. “You remembered that’s my favorite.”
She had no clue if she should laugh or continue crying. None. So she just stared in disbelief. “You hate everything about this, don’t you?”
He offered a small, tormented smile. “Not everything. Turns out I care enough about a certain woman to have gained the desire to be romantic.” He glanced around. “If this is actually romantic, that is. Which I’m having a hard time believing.”
With one flick of his wrist, he tossed the poster board behind him and held out his hand, which clutched a single red rose. He gave her an adorably sheepish smile. “Olivia, will you accept this rose?”
So apparently he’d been watching The Bachelor, too. Romances and reality…he’d clearly gone over the edge.
For her.
She stared into those now-familiar gray eyes and tried to be mad. “You put me on the no-fly list.”
He didn’t flinch over the accusation. “I may have,” he admitted. “Slightly.”
Annoyingly, she melted. “That might possibly be the most romantic thing ever. And also the worst.”
“I needed you here,” he said quietly.
“And Billy Idol? You needed him here?”
Grady shrugged, offering a cautious, hopeful smile. “Fake Billy Idol. And the cover band from Foam’s For You, which is a neighborhood bar my brothers-in-law frequent. I’m told they sound a little better with beer, but what are you going to do in a pinch?”
“This is amazing,” she said.
“You’re amazing,” he replied. “Now please amazingly take this rose, because there are about four hundred people staring at us right now, and I’m actually a bit of an introvert.”
“You didn’t need to do all this. These gestures,” she said, still sniffling. God, she must look terrible. Her mascara had probably run to her knees. “Turns out they don’t mean anything if they’re not from the right person. And the right person, it seems, is going to be right whether or not he believes in grand gestures.”
“I want to be that guy,” he said, gray eyes dark, the intensity she loved now brimming with emotion. “The right guy. And I want a relationship with you. I want strings. And I promise it’ll be amazing, if you’ll give me a chance. I have no idea where this might go, but I’m willing to do anything to find out.”
“Clearly,” she said, fresh tears falling. “I’m pretty much obligated to give you a chance. The mob might turn on me if I don’t.” Both sentiments tied for the world’s most epic understatement, but she’d make it up to him later. They’d have to renew that pinkie swear to something ending in hours. Days.
Or something longer.
Much longer.
“That’s all I need,” he said. “A chance, out of the airport and without all these people staring. So will you kindly take this thing?”
She accepted the rose to the sound of thunderous applause.
After the most epic airport embrace that had ever been a thing, he led her to a quiet corner, stopping along the way to shake a half-dozen hands and accept so many congratulations that she wondered if she’d somehow missed a proposal, all while he beamed.
Some introvert.
She remained shaky and unconvinced she wasn’t dreaming, at least until he finally got her alone. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For not telling you once I’d figured it out—”
“Forget the job thing,” she said. “You were right. It wouldn’t have mattered, had we gotten the one-night thing right.”
He offered a gentle smile. “I, for one, am thrilled we didn’t get it right. But this, I want to get right. I want to give this relationship a try.”
Relationship? “Doesn’t that go against everything you believe in?” she asked, half-joking, half-really-needing-an-answer.
“I believe in you, and I believe in us. I screwed up, worried about the wrong things, not stopping to see that you’re not what I’ve been running from. You’re what I want, and I just didn’t know you were out there, or I wouldn’t have stopped looking until I found you. I think we’re worth the chance, if you’re willing to give me one.”
“I might be willing to give you a chance,” she said, sniffling again.
He kissed her lightly, then harder. “I’m going to take it and run with it,” he promised her.
“Then let’s go for it,” she whispered. “All of it.”
“As you wish,” he said with a goofy grin.
Six hours later, she was back on the fly list and they were headed somewhere hot.
Somewhere together.
Epilogue
One Year Later
In retrospect, using every romantic gesture in one shot had been a mistake.
Grady had been thinking that for months, but never so much as in that moment, when he had a ring in his pocket and no brilliant strategy for getting it on Olivia’s finger.
Not even the setting helped, even if it was stunning. Of course, she had a way of making everything that way. He’d turned into one of those schmucks, as predicted by any number of sappy movies, but that was okay.
It was all for her.
And she was gorgeous.
“Why, exactly, are we here?” she asked for the hundredth time.
“You asked for coffee twice during that storm,” he said. “I thought you liked coffee.” It was a stupid excuse—one she wouldn’t buy—but he wasn’t quite ready to give her the real reason. As for why they were in Costa Rica, he could only divert to his globe-trotting sister-in-law Rue, who said if he wanted to visit an authentic coffee plantation, this was the place to be.
“You realize there are about seven coffee shops on every city block back home?” Olivia asked.
Slight exaggeration, but he let it go. And confessed. “It’s from a movie,” he said. “The one where they go buy the coffee plantation. Out of Africa.”
Her eyes widened. “You do realize we’re not in Africa.”
“Loophole,” he said. “Because, again, Out of Africa.” Easy enough to argue, but inside he felt like he was sliding down a razor-sharp cliff. Did it matter they weren’t in Africa? He’d been so worried about doing something special for her that he’d somehow overlooked the obvious. Or what should have been, because being around her tended to turn him into exactly the kind of lovestruck idiot who would choose the wrong movie to emulate for what he hoped would be one of the biggest moments of his life. And now what? It was hard to backtrack out of a misstep that big. They were in Costa Rica.
Not Africa, and certainly not New York City.
He was standing there, staring at this woman he loved more than life, and they were on the wrong damned continent.
Olivia covered her mouth. For a moment he thought she’d inhaled a mosquito, but then he saw her eyes dancing. Was she laughing? “That movie doesn’t end well,” she said.
Grady stared. “You said you loved that movie,” he said, his tone a bit accusatory.
“Did you watch the movie?” she asked.
“Not exactly,” Grady said. “I just pulled certain details.”
“
Let’s hope you left out a few,” Olivia said dryly. “Because if you brought me to a coffee plantation for infidelity, I’m on the next donkey out of here.”
“I may have missed the plot point about infidelity,” he admitted. “And on that point, I want it noted that we are not in Africa.”
“And why are we not in Africa?” Olivia asked, humor still lighting her eyes.
“Africa might have been overkill,” he said. As if there was anything bigger than what he had to ask her. Or how much he wanted her to say yes.
“And putting me on the no-fly list and putting on a show for the entire airport terminal, not so much?”
“Hey, it worked.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Okay, so I may have screwed up on the movie, but I get points for setting, I hope.”
“Coffee plantation, symbolic of infidelity?”
“Ring setting, symbolic of forever.” While that sunk in, he took the ring out of his pocket and dropped to one knee. “I’m missing a few cast members,” he said, “and apparently an important plot point or ten, but I have you, and I have this, and I say with near-sincerity that I hope we have forever for you to remind me about the no-fly list. I love you and cannot imagine not having you in my life. Will you marry me, Olivia?”
She stared at him for the longest, most agonizing moment ever before uttering, “Are you serious?”
“Are you kidding? Do you think I’d come at you with a ring if I wasn’t? And in front of the whole family?” He gave a head-tilt shout out to the right, where the entire Chase family waited in a screened tent, where a feast awaited. Having met them, he’d flat out refused to let them anywhere near his proposal, but he’d wanted them along. They were family, and more often than not, they seemed to travel in a pack.
If she ever said yes.
One Sexy Mistake (Chase Brothers) Page 9
