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“Speaking of the roads, Dad, shouldn’t you get going if you want to get to the market before heading up?” I ask, noticing the time.
“Shoot! Honey, you’re right. I’ll call you when I get to the lake house then. And please drive carefully, okay,” he pleads and I peck his cheek, already counting the seconds as I look at the clock until it’s just me and Zak.
For a few hours anyway.
I see Dad off and try to relax while also packing up the last of everything I know Dad’s left behind into the SUV. This dinner, the whole week, it all means so much to Dad.
But I’m excited for another reason.
It gets dark early and despite trying to get some sleep after setting my alarm so I don’t miss Zak’s arrival, I find myself holding him again with both hands as I stare into his eyes.
His picture anyway.
Tracing a finger across his powerful jaw, wondering what it would feel like to have him so close to me in real life, I’m sure I won’t sleep a wink.
I bolt upright with a start.
Crap!
I’ve slept through two alarms already and now I’m late.
I had a whole get ready for Zak routine, a special outfit even but all that’s gone to hell if I want to make it to the airport in time.Chapter TwoZakWho takes a connecting flight to arrive at four a.m.?
Zak Ramon when he’s so jet lagged it’s a relief to have something else to do to stay awake except stare at four walls, that’s who.
Plus, I’d fly all night to see Mark Rivers again. His invitation was more of an order to come spend a week with him and his daughter, Misty at his lake house as soon as I got back stateside.
I couldn’t refuse, a perfect chance to get back home to homely traditions, American style.
No more computer screens, no more conference calls. I’ve made it and now I’m coming home, having taken a big enough chunk of the world’s financial pie to last me several lifetimes over.
But what now? Enjoy the rest of my days alone with a mountain of money?
I push that thought to the back of my mind. A week with no stress, no drama, and plenty of good food and friends is what I’m looking forward to most.
No pressure. No stress.
Misty Rivers.
Her name flashes through my mind but only for a second. I’d texted Mark to let him know I was definitely arriving and he’d passed on his daughter’s details who said she’d come pick me up herself.
It’s a long drive from the city airport to their lake house, but she’s all grown up now.
How time flies.
The last time I saw her in person she would have been big enough to bounce on my knee, now she’s driving a car in the wee hours in what I hear is rotten weather to come get her old man’s oldest friend.
I feel nostalgia, and regret that I have no one of my own. No family, nobody to squeeze tight when I get off the plane.
No bed to warm up later on.
Another memory flashes across my mind, Misty’s graduation photo Mark emailed me. It was the proudest moment of his life, he’d said.
But I was shocked where my mind went, seeing his little girl all grown up.
I’d put it down to work pressure, getting old, or just plain living like a hermit the past twenty years.
I’ll be forty this year, Misty must be… half that.
I shiver as I try hard to replace her image in my mind, glancing at my Rolex and estimate the time left before I can set foot on US soil again.
Shuddering a breath I try and push Misty’s thick curves and heavy chest down, but something hard is pushing it all the way back up.
I never knew I had a ‘type’, and for the first time in a long time, I find my thinking about her has an unexpected response from my groin, giving me an aching hard on at thirty thousand feet.
I smile to myself, sure it’s just the cabin pressure.
There’s no way a twenty-two year old girl is gonna wanna jump these old bones, even though I do look after myself.
The thought plays happily in my mind as I manage to doze off until the jolt of the plane touching down wakes me suddenly.
Maybe I dreamt the whole thing?
My incessant hardness tells me I didn’t.
I suddenly feel like I’m getting closer to something, to something that’s going to make the past twenty years of my life make perfect sense.
Still grinning, and covering myself with my carry on, I happily wait through the international arrivals process, wondering what has me so dream-happy all of a sudden.
Stepping out into the arena-sized arrivals area after about an hour, I don’t have a sea of people waiting.
