I was still rooted to the same spot when Grant returned, looking concerned. "They're going to see about getting you your bag. Are you feeling okay? Maybe you should go to the hospital. I'm sure they will have the medication you need on hand."
I shifted my weight to my other foot, feeling like a complete ass. I couldn't believe how concerned he was. "It's not medication I need from my bag," I admitted.
"It's not?" he asked. His eyebrows came together with confusion.
"No, I need my iPad and my phone."
"Are you serious? I thought you were diabetic or something," he said through gritted teeth.
"I need to call my mom, but I also make a living on those devices, so you can wipe that look off your face," I said in a huff.
We both watched the flight attendant talking to an airport official as she pointed in my direction.
"Great, what did you tell her?" I asked under my breath.
"What do you think I told them? I thought you needed your bag."
"Well, I do," I said defensively, though the guilt was now gnawing at me.
He looked at me incredulously for a minute. "For your phone."
"Well, you should have asked before charging off like some knight in shining armor."
He muttered something under his breath that I didn't quite catch, but I ignored him. I felt guilty over the mix-up, but a part of me still just wanted my bag. Time slowly trickled by and after a half an hour passed, it became clear finding my purse wasn't a priority. I watched with envy as Grant extracted his phone from his pocket and proceeded to make a call. I didn't have to attempt to eavesdrop since he didn't seem to care that everyone in the vicinity could hear him. The conversation sounded one-sided as Grant only interrupted occasionally to reassure the person on the other line that he was okay. I felt an odd stirring in the pit of my stomach. I didn't want to admit I was jealous that he obviously had a special someone who cared for him and I had no one. I was proud of the success I had reached with my business, but it didn't change the fact that when I left Woodfalls four years ago, I thought it was only a matter of time until I found Mr. Right. I wanted a relationship like my parents had, one that stood the test of time and was an equal amount of give and take. Now, five years later, I had dated enough guys to realize that Mr. Right was tougher to find than I thought.
My spirits perked up when I heard him address the person on the other line. He was talking to his mother. Thank goodness. Wait, that was harsh, I thought. It wasn't like his love life was any of my business. It was all but a given in high school that he would marry Amanda when we graduated, which was one of the reasons I had hightailed it out of Woodfalls. Even now, I made a point anytime I talked to my cousin Tressa to never ask about it. Only one person in Woodfalls knew about my past crush on Grant, and I knew that person would take that secret to the grave.
He gave his mom one more reassurance before hanging up. "My mom," he acknowledged after hanging up his phone, not that I needed the clarification. I nodded, though my eyes were focused on his phone. He grinned mischievously, wagging his phone in front of me. "Did you want to use my phone?" he asked. I reached out to snatch it, but he pulled it just out of reach. "Say please," he teased.
"Please," I said through a fake smile. This was the Grant I remembered, always the tease. I made another grab for the phone.
"And you're sorry you deceived me before," he added, pulling the phone away again.
I glared at him before turning away. He could shove his damn phone for all I cared. This was why he had infuriated me so much in school.
"Here, I was kidding," he said, holding the phone in front of my face.
I made no move to grab it. I knew him too well. I knew once I tried, he would move it again. Sucker me couldn't help myself. He moved it at the last second—of course.
"Say it," he taunted.
"God, are you ever going to grow up?" I fumed, glaring out the large window.
"Do you mean am I ever going to become uptight like some people?" he asked, looking at me pointedly. "I sure hope not," he added, shuddering dramatically. "Don't you get sick of always taking life so seriously?"
"We're adults, Grant. It's what adults do."
"It's what adults do," he mocked in a deep voice. "Oh my god. Obviously you're not hearing yourself. You're twenty-three, not forty-three. I bet you were a barrel of laughs in college," he laughed.
"You got me. I wasn't going to a keg party every night to hone my beer bong skills, so what? Excuse me for deciding it was better to get the education I was paying for," I snapped. Of course, I was lying through my teeth, but he didn't need to know that. Better for him to think I was a stick in the mud than to know how many parties I had attended, hoping to meet that one special person. After two years of the same crap, I was sick of the whole party scene and the college experience in general. I transferred to culinary school and focused on my career while I formulated plan B. Everything sort of clicked after that, at least professionally. Not long into my schooling, I came up with the idea to start a blog showcasing some of my favorite recipes. I named the blog Cooking for Love. After all, the old saying claims the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. I post meal prep videos twice a week, but the rest of the time I leave helpful hints on making yummy treats for your loved one. I also encourage followers to ask me questions and email their ideas. Once a month, I pick one of the ideas and prepare it on my site. The author of the winning recipe receives credit for the meal, a bottle of wine and chocolate-covered strawberries. My giveaways became an instant hit and each month the number of entries doubled from the previous month. Two and half years later, I've managed to build my blog into a successful business, but ironically, I haven't been able to cook my way into a man's heart.
"Never underestimate the mad skills it takes to become a champion beer-bonger," Grant said, standing up. He walked away dialing his phone and my stomach twisted into knots. It didn't take an Einstein to figure out who he was calling. Looking away, I studied the other passengers who sat with nothing more to do than wait like I was. I wondered how the crash would affect their lives. I shuddered to think if we would be sitting here if our plane had reached thirty thousand feet before whatever the malfunction was happened. I'm sure many of the other passengers were thinking the same thing.
"Here," Grant said, appearing at my side quicker than I expected. He dropped his phone on my lap before heading toward the bathroom. Maybe Amanda didn't answer his call. I dialed my parents' number and my mom answered immediately, like she had been waiting for the phone to ring. She sounded relieved when she heard my voice, but after she was certain I was okay, she chastised me for waiting so long to call her. It took me awhile to get her to pipe down long enough to let me explain what happened. My palms began to sweat as I recalled the fear of death I felt when the plane nosedived.
"What are you going to do now?" her voice interrupted my wayward thoughts.
"I'm not sure. Definitely not flying," I answered since the mere thought of stepping into another plane had me teetering on the edge of hysteria.
"But I want you home for Christmas," my mom all but wailed through the phone. "Especially after what happened today. I need my baby here."
"I know, Mom. I'm still coming. I think I'll rent a car. I can make the trip in one day if I don't stop."
"Dear, I'm not crazy about you driving all by yourself."
"Mom, I drive by myself all the time," I reminded her as Grant sank down in the seat next to mine.
"I understand that, honey, but driving halfway across the country isn't safe for any woman, especially after what you've been through."
"It's not halfway across the country," I pointed out. I refrained from reminding her that she's the one who wanted me to drive. When she started her worry mode, there was no reasoning with her. I listened with half an ear as she continued to bemoan my predicament. Only when she suggested that she could fly here to make the drive with me, did I intervene. I would have laughed at her suggestion, but I kn
ew she was dead serious. A mixture of amusement and dismay swirled through me. Don't get me wrong. I loved my parents dearly, but the idea of my mommy flying in to rescue me didn't sit right. "Mom, don't be ridiculous. I don't need you to fly here and hold my hand. The drive isn't that long," I explained. I shushed Grant, who was chuckling beside me. He wiggled his fingers in my face to get on my nerves until I elbowed him in the gut. You'd think he would have gotten the hint, but it only egged him on further. I swatted his hand away as I continued to try to convince my mom that I was indeed capable of driving myself to Woodfalls. I was in the middle of reminding her of all the traveling I had done the last few years when Grant plucked the phone from my hand.
"Don't you even do it," I threatened. I was shocked he had the nerve to snatch the phone from me.
He held up a hand to quiet my complaints, and for the first time in my life, I contemplated murder. I tried to retrieve the phone before he could speak, but once he stood up, he was too tall. All I managed to do was draw attention to us as I practically crawled up his body in an attempt to get the phone.
"Mrs. Lawton, this is Grant Johnson," he said into the phone. I could hear my mom's happy squeal from my seat. I rolled my eyes. For whatever reason, all the adults in Woodfalls had always liked Grant. Even when I used to complain about his endless teasing, my mom had always defended him, telling me that was his way of showing he liked me. She was wrong. I was nothing but a source of entertainment for him. "We were both on the flight," he said into the phone. "I know, small world, right? Me and Jams together," he added. I'm sure he didn't mean his words to sound the way they did, but it still didn't stop my pulse from racing slightly. Grant's next words made my blood pressure rise. I had to have heard him wrong because there was no way in hell he could have been serious. Otherwise, I really was going to have to kill him now.
Chapter 3
"Are you insane?" I hissed as he ended the phone call with my mom.
"What?" he asked, feigning surprise.
"There's no way I'm driving eight hundred plus miles with you."
"Nine-nineteen," he corrected, stowing the phone back in his pocket.
"What?" I asked, momentarily distracted as I watched the phone disappear from sight.
"It's nine hundred and nineteen miles to be exact. I Googled it," he said, patting his pocket.
"It doesn't matter if it's nine miles. I'm not driving anywhere with you," I stated. There was no way I could spend that much time with him. Eventually, we would move past the superficial talking we had been doing. I didn't want to delve into what he had been up to in my absence from Woodfalls. More specifically, I didn't want to hear about his perfect little life with Amanda. I would have continued my objection, but a team of airport personnel entered the holding area.
"Why not?" he asked as we joined the semicircle of passengers that had formed around the airport employees.
"Um, could it be because you made my preteen years hell?" I said, grasping for any excuse I could come up with. He started to argue, but I shushed him so I could hear what the airport staff had to say. Most of it didn't pertain to me since I had no interest in catching a new flight. All I cared about was getting my luggage and getting out of this airport. The spokesperson for the airline talked in a loud voice that carried through the large room. She first apologized for the trauma we had all suffered. She claimed they were doing everything in their power to get all of us to our destinations, yada yada yada. Once she had covered new flights and how the airline would compensate us with free flight vouchers, she moved to an explanation about the accommodations they had secured for those of us who would not be catching a flight that night. Finally, she got to something I actually cared about, collecting our belongings. They had a shuttle waiting to take us to the hangar where they had placed all our bags.
Without giving any thought to Grant, I was the first to step in line for the shuttle. I planned on finding my bags and getting the heck out of Dodge. Alone.
"Not so fast, Jams," Grant said, joining me.
"I think the end of the line is back there," I said, pointing over my shoulder.
"You're not leaving the airport without me."
"First of all, this isn't the line to leave the airport. Second, you're the only one who thinks we're leaving together," I pointed out, tapping my fingers impatiently against my leg as I waited for them to show us to our shuttle.
"Not true. I promised your mom I wouldn't let you drive home by yourself," he said, holding up a hand when I tried to argue. "And I never break a promise," he continued. He looked serious. It was the first time I could recall seeing him without a trace of teasing.
"Look, Grant. I appreciate the offer. Really, I do, but I'm a big girl. I've been on my own long enough now. Driving through a couple of states by myself is no biggie. Trust me. You know how protective my mom has always been."
"All that being said, it's still not a bad idea for us to drive together. We are going to the same place. Just think, if we ride together, we can share the driving duties and get there even faster," he reasoned as an employee led us out to the airport shuttle.
"Yeah, but you're forgetting something important," I said, climbing onto the large bus.
"What is that?" he asked, sitting down on the bench seat next to me.
I looked at him incredulously. Was he being obtuse on purpose, or was he really that dense? "We don't like each other," I answered, gripping the metal handrail to steady myself as the shuttle came to an abrupt halt.
"Who said I didn't like you, Jams?" he asked, reaching a hand down to help me get to my feet. A couple things happened simultaneously at that moment. One, I had never seen him look so sincere, and two, the feeling of my hand being wrapped inside his large and very masculine hand made my stomach twirl. Our eyes met for a brief instant before I pulled my hand away and scrambled out of the seat and down the aisle. In my haste to leave the shuttle, I neglected to notice the ground was covered in a fine layer of snow.
My feet hit the pavement for only a moment before they were out from under me and I was flat on my back on the tarmac. When I was nine, I fell out of the back of a pickup truck while trying to jump out. My sneaker got caught on the tailgate and long story short, I got a mouth full of dirt. I remember hitting the ground so hard it knocked the breath out of me. The fear of not being able to breathe overlapped the actual pain. At the time, I thought it was the single most embarrassingly painful moment of my life, until now. Falling on a snow-slicked airport tarmac in front of multiple witnesses, including the guy I had once majorly crushed on, was so much worse. Not only because it hurt my ass, which took the brunt of the fall, but my pride took a big punch because falling as an adult is way more embarrassing than when you fall as a child. Plus, the brand-new peacoat I had just bought was getting filthy.
Once I was able to gather myself, I looked up at the many individuals circled around me, who all looked concerned with the exception of one. Grant looked like he was trying not to laugh. I glared up at him, daring him to say anything. His eyes danced with merriment as he reached down to help me up.
"Oh my. Are you okay?" the driver asked from his perch on the last step of the shuttle.
"Fine," I wheezed, looking into Grant's smirking eyes.
"Can you believe she used to be a champion ice skater?" Grant announced loudly, making everyone laugh.
"Oh, that's good. Here, let me give you a round of applause," I said, jerking my hand from his as he helped me to my feet. I lost my footing again and my legs tried sliding out from under me in different directions. Grant reached out and grabbed my jacket just in time to keep me from going down a second time, much to the amusement of everyone watching.
"Hey, I'm not the funny one," he chuckled, keeping a firm hand on my elbow. I would have pulled away, but I wanted to be done embarrassing myself. Only after we entered a large hangar and I was on steady non-slick ground did I jerk my arm from his. His laughter followed me as I made my way down the long rows of purses and suitcases t
he airline had laid out on the floor. I found my purse quickly, but it took longer to find my small rolling suitcase, which somehow had broken open during the accident. Examining it closer, I could see I wouldn't be able to keep it fastened. Plus, some of my belongings were missing. I sighed, searching for any of my clothing and other personal items. Any loose items had been collectively piled up at the end of the row. Next to the pile was a stack of large plastic bags from Walt Disney World. I laughed at the phrase "The place where dreams come true," along with the image of Mickey Mouse printed on the bag like he was mocking me. Picking through the pile of unclaimed belongings until I was satisfied I had found everything I remembered packing, I transferred everything from my broken suitcase and my stuff I found in the pile into one of the plastic Disney bags.
Grant was waiting by the hangar door, where a security guard double-checked my belongings, making sure I wasn't taking someone else's luggage. I obliged him, but I wasn't in the mood anymore. I had enough of the airport and was ready to leave now that I had my stuff. After watching him paw through the plastic bag for a moment, my aggravation got the best of me and I spoke up. "Why don't you tell me what you're looking for and I can find it. Or maybe it's still in the plane I was in that crashed," I said sarcastically.
"Have a nice evening, ma'am," he said, looking unfazed.
"Yeah," I returned as I walked away.
"Everything okay?" Grant asked, plucking the bag off my arm.
"I can carry it," I protested as he slid it onto his shoulder.
"You have more important things to worry about. Like not slipping," he joked as we left the warmth of the hangar. The shuttle bus was waiting to take us back to the terminal. At least the driver had parked closer, and hopefully I wouldn't mortify myself by busting my ass again.
"I figured we can try to get a car from Enterprise when we get back to the terminal, and then maybe look into the rooms the airline is providing at the airport hotel," Grant said conversationally, like everything was set in stone. I opened my mouth to argue, but reason held me back. He was right. It made sense for us to drive together. We were headed to the same destination.