Page 173 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

Then she smiles.

And just like that—all is right with my world.

Chapter 36

Clara

My hands are shaking.

Actually shaking.

The nose of the plane dips and my stomach swoops somewhere near my knees as Manhattan comes into view beneath us—steel and glass and glittering water.

“You okay?” Greyson’s voice crackles through my headset, calm as ever.

“Yeah,” I lie. “I just didn’t realize when you said you were flying to New York that you meant you were actually doing the flying.”

Even without seeing his face, I can hear the grin in his voice.

“We’ll land in one piece, Trouble. I’m a good pilot. Have my license and everything. I promise.”

That promise does dangerous things to me.

He sounds so sure. So steady.

I make a small sound that’s neither agreement nor panic and close my eyes, defaulting to rosaries in my head—leftover muscle memory from childhood weekends at my Catholic grandmother’s house.

Hail Mary, full of grace—I clasp my hands together.

The wheels touch down.

Smooth.

Controlled.

Perfectly, beautifully uneventful.

When we taxi to a stop and the engine powers down, I rip off my headset and grab him, kissing him like we just survived a crash landing instead of the most competent descent in aviation history.

He laughs against my mouth, hands sliding to my hips.

“I told you, I got you,” he murmurs.

He does. Have me, that is.

We exit the plane and when we’re on firm ground, I kiss him again just to be sure.

He groans, licking into my mouth, his big hands reach down and cup my ass possessively.

I whimper.

I really like it when he does that.

Someone clears their throat.

“Sir, your car is here.”

I freeze.