“By the way, my mom asked about you, wanted to know how you were doing.”
Another wince.
On the bright side, we’d fought most of the flight and I didn’t have to wait long to land.
I supposed Wes would want me to get off first. Ugh, I didn’t want to face him.
Don’t let him break your heart.
Sorry, Mom.
The plane touched down while I clutched the armrests. We taxied for a few minutes before coming to a stop. I’d come up with a game plan through my haze. I had my debit card and license. How much would a ticket cost? As long as there were signs pointing me to a ticket counter, I’d find my way home.
What if private jets landed in an entirely different area?
No matter. I’d foot the bill for a ride.
I unbuckled and clutched my purse. Wes walked down the aisle. His ominous presence warranted a long black cape billowing behind him to the beat of “The Imperial March.”
One of the pilots appeared and Wes spoke a few words to him. Then the door opened with a burst of cold air and he disappeared.
Not even a look back. And I’d hoped for what?
For Wes to not be the heartless prick he’d been the last hour, to show me some of the guy who’d tucked me in and curled up behind me.
Would it matter? He’d proved what he was capable of.
I pushed up, but the pilot Wes had spoken to walked toward me.
“Ms. Baranski, Mr. Robson made arrangements for us to return you home.”
I stomped my relief down but made a quick, rash decision. “I appreciate it, but all I’d like are directions to where I can buy a commercial plane ticket.”
Confusion registered in the man’s expression, with a touch of worry. “I’m sorry?”
“Mr. Robson has made it clear how he feels about me accepting anyone’s generosity. Thank you. I’m sure it’s been a long night for you as well.”
“But Ms. Baranski—”
“Excuse me.” I skirted around him but stalled on the first step. Lights from buildings and planes surrounded me and I could make out little in the dark.
“Are you sure, ma’am?”
“Positive.”
He rattled off what I had to do to get to a ticket counter and I was on my way.
Chapter 18
Wes
I relayed the story. Exhaustion weighed me down. The whirlwind and stress of business in New York, the flight delay back due to a storm, all piled onto sleepless nights.
Flynn listened with ever-rising eyebrows.
We sat in Canon’s office on a Friday night. I always kept my door shut, but tonight it guarded against the beat of the music that would add to my pounding headache.
“She didn’t let you fly her back?”
“Nope.” I recalled my pilot’s worried recounting of Mara’s refusal and the man’s resentment at being put in the situation of ditching a young woman in the middle of the night in an unfamiliar city. Guess I deserved it.
“What if she’s telling the truth about everything?”
“Are you on her side?” My friend’s hypothetical question was the same one that had been running through my mind all week.
“Look at you, Wes. Bloodshot eyes, wrinkled clothes. If you thought she was a money whore, you’d be out on the floor, picking up your entertainment for tonight.”
I stared at the floor. “She got to me, that’s all. She’s that good.”
“Good enough to get her grandpa to leave her money,” Flynn said dryly.
I flipped him off. “I wasn’t talking about that.” And Helen had warned me she didn’t have all the facts. “The professor, Sam, her employee, and her customers. She’s a user.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Flynn’s tone wasn’t his usual confident one. “I don’t like seeing you like this. I’m worried about you, bro.”
“Don’t be. I’ll get over it.” I refused to admit that I’d fallen for Mara, but my words came close.
“I was going to tell you to get out there and get back in the saddle.” Flynn leaned forward and whispered, “Bachelorette party. But,” he returned to concerned friend, “I don’t want you to do something stupid like elope with a fling because you have a broken heart.”
I made a psssht sound. “I don’t have a broken heart. I don’t like her.”
“Mm-hmm. In case I didn’t mention a bachelorette party, there’s one out there now and it’s calling me. Nothing like the always-a-bridesmaid-never-a-bride hookup.” Flynn left, but I didn’t miss the holy shit, dude, you’re a sad sack and I’m worried about you glance.
I dove into my work. Pouring over shipment notices and orders, I was finally at a point where Mara wasn’t dominating my thoughts when my office phone rang.
“Boss,” his bartender said, “there’s a hot chick here asking about you.”
I was out of my office in seconds and weaving through the throng of people to the bar. What I saw when I approached slowed me to a halt.
No Mara. Just Hailey in leggings and a low-slung top. With a frustrated grunt, I spun around and slammed back into my office.
Mara
I sat in my half-empty office and dabbed my eyes. It was the last game day. Chris had brought donuts again. Ephraim and Joe had each brought food and they’d lined up a goodbye potluck that had lasted until closing time.
Choking on the overwhelming sense of loss, I’d escaped to my office.
I hadn’t heard from Wes all week. Hadn’t expected to and had deleted his contact info from my phone.
“Mara?” Chris called from the other side.
“Come in.” Who cared if he saw me crying?
He pushed open my door and his smile was understanding, and, dammit, I’d miss him.
“I’ve been working on a proposal and looking for space. I…I emailed you a proposal if you’d seriously consider partnering with me.”
“Oh god, Chris.” I scrubbed my eyes and cursed Wes for the eight-hundredth time in a week. If he hadn’t dragged my past
