Now he found his voice. “I’d love to—you have no idea how much I’d love to—but my mom’s waiting in the car.”
“You may be surprised to know that you’re the only man who’s ever said that to me,” Hadley said, picking up her coat and handing it to him. “Help me?” she said. In the past few weeks, she had worked to find small ways to let him serve her. It was still a stretch to say she needed the help, but she didn’t mind, and his willingness to stay close to her side just in case he could be useful? That was a bonus.
Fletcher’s strong arms held her coat and wrapped her inside.
He held an arm out to escort her to the limo that waited at the curb.
Nodding in the direction of the car, he said, “I didn’t want to make it more awkward by making one of you sit in the back,” he said, “so I got us a driver.”
Hadley grinned at him playfully. “I would have been happy to drive so you could sit in the back.”
She allowed him to open the door for her, and even thanked him as he handed her in. Rose sat on the long leather seat, smiling and lovely. Hadley leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Ready to party?” Hadley asked her.
“For exactly as long as I need to,” Rose responded.
Once inside the hotel ballroom, Hadley found Savanna and Nick seated at a round table. Savanna stood up and gave Hadley a hug, and as Nick began to stand, Fletcher put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and told him to keep his seat. “We’re coming to sit with you,” he said.
Nick was recovering nicely, and had regained all of his function, but a mean headache accompanied too much movement and bright light, so Savanna planned to escort him home at the end of the meal and program.
“There are years ahead of us we can fill with dancing,” Savanna had said.
Hadley found herself amazed by the change in Savanna, but her friend insisted that she was exactly how she’d always been. “I’m still me, but I’m me with all the missing pieces put back,” Savanna had told her. Hadley imagined there was much more explanation to come, but for now, she was delighted to see her friend so happy.
And she was allowing herself to feel happy with Fletcher, too.
Hadley barely tasted her meal; she was so consumed with watching Fletcher. She couldn’t get enough of him. He played the table like a fine musical instrument, attending to everyone and making them each feel like the most important person in the room.
When Chief Grantham stood to begin the program, he spoke a few words of introduction.
“For many years, our friends in the Gates family have served beside us, and this evening, we would like to honor the memory of Paul Gates. Rose, if you would please come stand beside me?”
Rose, already crying, but smiling through her tears, stepped up on the dais. Behind her, Hadley saw a picture of Fletcher’s parents looking young and fearless and untouchable.
“They’re beautiful,” she whispered to Fletcher.
He smiled at her. “You’re beautiful,” he said.
They listened together as Chief Grantham enumerated Fletcher’s dad’s merits, awards, and honors. She had a suspicion that he would have gone on much longer if Rose had looked stronger, but he kept his tribute simple and sincere.
“With gratitude in our hearts for the years of faithful service and brotherhood, we present you, in memory of Paul Gates, with this lifetime achievement award.”
The audience rose as one to their feet, clapping and cheering, and Rose nodded and smiled her thanks. Hadley watched Fletcher’s face, his pride and happiness at seeing his father honored for so many of the same things that mattered so deeply to him.
Chief Grantham settled the audience and opened the ball by directing Rose and Fletcher to lead the first dance. Nick and Savanna joined in, as did many of the other guests. Hadley was delighted to stand and watch Fletcher lead his mother across the floor, Rose’s eyes still shining with happy tears. At the close of the song, Fletcher bent down and kissed his mom on the cheek before giving her his arm and escorting her off the floor.
Hadley hugged Rose and congratulated her. “Will you stay for the party?” she asked.
Rose shook her head. “Time for me to get back before my carriage turns into a pumpkin,” she said.
“I’ll ride with you,” Fletcher said, helping Rose into her coat.
“Oh, no,” she said. “You can’t leave your date behind. I’ll send the car back for you two when I’m home. Have a good time,” she said, the glint in her eye as sweet as sugar.
Fletcher walked his mom to the car and returned to Hadley, who was happy to wait; there was something magical about watching him cross the room, looking elegant and confident in his tuxedo, his eyes never leaving her. She felt his smile reflected in her own face.
Holding out his hand, he invited her to join him on the dance floor.
She slid into his embrace effortlessly, as if her body remembered that this was, in fact, where she’d always belonged.
Looking up into his eyes, Hadley grinned. “You kind of like me, don’t you?”
A look of confusion crossed Fletcher’s face. “What do you mean?”
Hadley playfully swatted at his arm. “Admit it, Fletch. You like me and you want to date me, and you can’t get enough.”
He shrugged. “Everyone’s wrong sometimes,” he said, an air of disinterest in his voice. Before Hadley could object beyond her small noise of disbelief, he spoke again. “I don’t kind of like you. I am undeniably in love with you, and if you’ll have me, I plan to never again let you go.”
When he leaned down and his lips brushed across hers, she felt herself lean in—all the way in. Nothing could come between them now. She wouldn’t stand for it.
He was hers, and she was his, and every day she would prove that nothing would make them happier than fulfilling each other’s wishes.
As their lips parted, she placed her hands on his face. “Thanks,” she said. “I needed that.”
What a relief and a joy to know what she needed, and that what she needed was him.
<<<<<<<>>>>>>>
I hope you enjoyed Hadley and Fletcher’s story!
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a sweet romantic comedy
BRENNA JACOBS
Chapter One
As soon as the woman in the Gucci track suit took the seat across the aisle from him, Geoffrey knew he was in trouble. He pulled down his Dodgers hat—a little souvenir he’d picked up when his agent took him to a game—and hoped she got the message that he was in no mood for socializing.
She didn’t.
She glanced at him, did a double take, then settled into her seat with a smug grin plastered across her face.
The engines roared to life and a flight attendant stopped between their seats with complimentary glasses of champagne. “My name is Stacey. I’m here to make sure you have a first-class experience on British Airways. Can I get you anything else before we take off?” She gracefully set the glasses on their trays.
“I’ll have a gin and tonic,” his Guccified neighbor said and let her eyes take a slow walk from the top of his head to his chest before turning back to the flight attendant. “He’ll have coffee, black, with a splash of Bailey’s in it.”
For a split second, Geoffrey, who’d been about to order a cup of chamomile tea, wondered why this woman would think he wanted coffee, especially on a red-eye. Then he remembered. The bloody Tattler article. He opened his mouth to change his order, but the flight attendant had already moved on to the couple seated behind them.
“I’m Blythe.” Blythe held out her hand and pressed it, and her chest, toward him. “I saw the spread about you in Tattler.”
“Did you?” Geoffrey grasped the tips of Blythe’s fingers and shook them, being very careful not to accidentally graze anything else.
He guessed from her accent she was from Manchester. He also guessed she’d be throwing herself at him for the rest of the flight. Even if she hadn’t ordered his drink, she sti
ll wouldn’t have stood a chance. He’d caught a glimpse of what looked like a Manchester United tattoo on her ankle, and he loathed Man U; every self-respecting Tottenham Spurs fan did.
“I don’t actually drink much coffee.” He moved as far from her as possible, which wasn’t far. “Or Bailey’s, for that matter. I’m not sure where the boys at Tattler got that idea.”
From him, that’s where.
It had been a stupid question, so he’d given them a stupid answer. Who in the world cared what he liked to drink at teatime?
Well, other than Blythe, who apparently cared enough to remember that “fact” six months after the article about him had come out.
The lights dimmed and he pushed the call button. As the plane began moving backward, the flight attendant made her way to him. She bent forward to ask, “Can I help you, sir?” at the same time the pilot asked the flight attendants to be seated for take-off.
“Tea—chamomile, when you have a moment,” he said.
“Of course. As soon as we’re airborne.” She was about to sit when another flight attendant stopped her.
“We’ve got a puker,” he whispered loudly enough that Geoffrey could hear. “She’s preggers, and the smell of the loo set her off. She needs to lie down.”
Blythe peeked her head around the two attendants and held up her phone. “Do you mind opening the blinds so I can get a pic as we take off?” she asked Geoffrey.
Geoffrey pushed up his blind but kept his attention on the attendants’ conversation.
“We’re packed,” Stacey whispered. “Where’s she supposed to lie down?”
Blythe’s phone clicked, and Geoffrey didn’t need to see the picture to know it was of him and not the scenery.
“Pardon me.” Geoffrey stood and tapped Stacey’s shoulder as she and the other attendant walked toward their jump seats. “I overheard . . . the lady can have my seat.”
Stacey glanced from Geoffrey to his first-class seat, not hiding her surprise. “Are you sure you want to do that? It’s in coach, sir.”
The airplane picked up speed, and Blythe’s phone clicked again. She’d have a year’s worth of Instagram posts by the time they touched down in London.
Geoffrey leaned close to Stacey and whispered, “Please. You’d be doing me a favor.”
“He’ll be doing us a favor too,” the other flight attendant chimed in. “If she’s lying down, she can sleep. If she’s sleeping, she won’t be retching.”
Stacey nodded. “Okay. Let’s get them switched. But after we reach cruising altitude.”
“Thank you.” Geoffrey breathed a sigh of relief and sat down again. He breathed another sigh of relief when Stacey asked Blythe to put her phone away during take-off. In the meantime, he’d have to do a little damage control.
“Blythe.” He leaned across the aisle and rested his hand lightly on her arm. “I hate to be a bother . . .” He gazed deeply into her eyes, firing up his best smolder. “But if you happened to get me in any of those shots, would you mind deleting them?”
“Oh.” She turned toward him, leaning forward to give him a view of everything her low cut t-shirt offered and fluttering her fingers up and down his hand. “I just assumed you were part of the scenery.”
He pulled back but kept a smile on his face. “Well, feel free to keep those for yourself, but if any show up in the public sphere, you’ll be hearing from my barrister.”
Blythe’s smile disappeared as she sat up straight. “Of course.”
“Thank you.” Geoffrey faced forward again as the plane lifted off, and the momentum of it pressed him into his seat. He closed his eyes and made a mental note to have Ardis keep a lookout for any mentions about him on social media once he could use electronics again. The last thing he needed was a crowd when he landed. Usually flying commercial wasn’t a problem, but every once in a while, he got a Blythe who ruined it for him.
By the time the plane leveled off, Blythe hadn’t said another word to him, and he was starting to regret offering up his seat. But then Blythe put her hand on his shoulder.
“As long as I’m keeping these photos to myself, can I get a selfie with you?” she asked.
At the same moment, the curtain separating first class from the rest of the plane opened, and Geoffrey heard Stacey’s voice.
“Right this way, love,” she said, and Geoffrey turned to see her steering a woman holding an airsick bag over her mouth toward him.
He stood and moved aside to allow the woman room to sit in his seat. She pulled the bag away from her face long enough to mumble, “Thank you so much,” before gagging and pressing the bag back to her mouth.
“My pleasure,” he said as he moved past her. A sound of surprise from Blythe drew his attention back to her. She glanced from the heaving pregnant woman to him, her mouth drawn into a pout, the kind that never looked as good in real life as people thought it did in pictures.
Geoffrey tipped his chin to Blythe, then followed Stacey through the curtain. He’d never actually sat in coach before, but it couldn’t be worse than sitting next to Blythe for the next ten hours.
He changed his mind as he passed business class and realized Stacey wasn’t stopping. In fact, she was headed toward the rows of seats where people were sitting shoulder to shoulder and some of the taller travelers had their knees pressed into the backs of the seats in front of them.
“How far back are we?” he asked Stacey before nearly tripping over someone’s foot jutting into the aisle.
“Last row.” Stacey glanced back at him, and her smile faltered at the look on his face. “It’s very kind of you to do this, Lord Bellingham.”
“Geoffrey, please. I’d like to keep a low profile.” He pulled the bill of his hat down and tucked his chin into his chest.
“I understand, Geoffrey.” A satisfied grin slid across her face and she pushed her shoulders back as though he’d just pinned a medal on her chest. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen the same reaction from someone he’d encouraged to call him by his first name. He never understood why it made people feel so special.
He looked past her to see how much farther they had to go. When he saw the only empty seat in the middle of the very last row, he felt slightly sick. There would be no reclining comfortably for him.
Then the woman next to the window in his row glanced up at him. Even in the dim light from five feet away, the intensity of her eyes struck him: an amber brown that reflected gold. She had short, dark hair, which he usually didn’t go for, but the way her bangs feathered across her brow only made her eyes more striking.
Geoffrey chanced a closer look as he approached, and Stacey motioned toward the empty seat next to her. She was definitely pretty, and he had a hard time not staring.
The giant of a man in the aisle seat stood to let Geoffrey in without bothering to take off his headphones. As Geoffrey took his seat, the woman acknowledged him with a nod before putting on a pair of heavy-framed glasses so severe they looked like they could have belonged to Mrs. Birch, the last—and worst—of his long line of nannies. As he sat down next to her, she turned all her attention to her computer screen.
“If you need anything at all, just press this.” Stacey pointed to a button above Geoffrey’s head. “I’ll be right up front.”
Before Stacey could turn to go, the lady next to Geoffrey stopped her. “Excuse me. Could I get some water?” If her voice hadn’t given her away as an American, her teeth would have. They were too perfect.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. You’ll have to wait until drink service starts,” Stacey answered, not looking very sorry at all.
His neighbor’s eyes widened in disbelief, making her look even more beautiful than before. “But you’re right here, steps away from the drink cart.” She waved her head to the galley behind them at the exact moment the flight attendants happened to peal into laughter like they were Stacey’s mean-girl backup.
Stacey’s mouth formed a tight smile. “I’m assigned to first class. You’ll have to wait
.”
“Pardon me, Stacey,” Geoffrey said as the flight attendant turned to leave. “I’m actually quite thirsty myself. Could you bring me a bottle of Perrier?” His eyes darted to the woman next to him before he could stop himself. “Perhaps two?”
Stacey’s practiced smile fell.
“I anticipate being very, very thirsty.”
“Certainly, Lor—”
His eyebrows went up.
“—Geoffrey. Whatever you need.” She turned around and walked to the galley, reappearing seconds later with two small bottles of Perrier. She handed them both to him.
Geoffrey didn’t break eye contact with her as he twisted the cap off of one of the bottles and held it toward his thirsty neighbor. “Thank you, Stacey,” he said in his most regal voice.
Her lips puckered, and she didn’t reply before turning her back to him and walking quickly toward first class.
It was then that Geoffrey noticed his neighbor hadn’t actually taken the water he offered her. He turned to face her and held it closer, assuming she hadn’t realized what he’d just done for her.
“Thank you, but no,” she said, apologetically. “The carbonation bothers my stomach.”
“Oh.” Geoffrey slowly pulled the water back. “I’m sorry. I should have asked for still.” He replaced the cap on the water and looked for somewhere to put it. “Quarters are a bit tight, and there don’t seem to be any drink holders.”
“You can set it here.” The woman moved her laptop to make room on her tray, offering him the briefest of smiles, even though he could have sworn he’d seen her roll her eyes before making her offer.
As Geoffrey set down the water bottle, he noticed the picture on her screen, and his interest was piqued.
“You’re a fan of Tobias Whitney?” he asked leaning toward her to get a better look at the picture. When she moved toward the window, he quickly sat back, embarrassed he’d obviously encroached on her personal space. Usually he was on the other side of that scenario.
Always You: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (ABCs of Love Collection Books 5-8) Page 35
