He would have to buy a bed if she said yes.
She wasn’t going to say yes.
He hoped she would say yes.
Blair:That’s so sweet of you. I would love to. In June after Esme gets home from school, maybe? I’m going to ask her to stay here and take care of Edward and Morticia.
Shit.
Chapter 22
Martini with a Twist
Six weeks later
Jack went to the airport to surprise Blair. He wasn’t sure why. She’d told him he didn’t need to pick her up. She was a Hollywood producer here on business. She probably had a car rented.
But there he was, waiting at luggage carousel number eight. When she’d picked him up at LAX, she’d said she always checked a bag, and he was counting on that being the case today.
The bags started appearing before the humans did.
He eyed a giant pink suitcase making the rounds and went over to inspect the tag on it. It read “Barb Tybee.” He smiled and grabbed it.
Another, smaller pink case appeared, and he retrieved it, too.
Then he started fretting. The last time they’d seen each other in person, they’d basically had sex. Some people would argue that since there hadn’t been penetration, it didn’t count, and she herself had referred to it as making out. To his mind, they’d both had orgasms, so it counted.
They had talked about a lot of stuff surrounding the way they’d parted—about his harsh words, about her disappearance.
But they hadn’t talked about the sex.
Were they just going to pretend it hadn’t happened?
Based on their recent interactions, it seemed the answer was yes.As they’d discussed the logistics of her visit, neither had mentioned it. Which had been fine, over text. But now she was here. Probably already off the plane. Breathing the same air.
He should have at least told her he was coming, like a normal, sane person would do. He should have—
There she was. Approaching with her hair tucked up into a baseball cap and wearing big sunglasses.
He froze. He felt like the prey in a nature documentary.See how the human Minnesotan freezes, hoping the Californian female will fail to notice him, thus sparing him to live another day.
She was wearing the wide-legged white jeans she’d been wearing the other first time he’d seen her, at LAX. On top she wore a jean jacket with the collar turned up. She looked like the poster girl for a preppy fashion brand.
She was walking toward the carousel and looking around surreptitiously. Suddenly she changed course and headed toward a man holding an iPad. Jack cranked his neck to read the iPad. “Barb Tybee.”
He could still leave.
But he had her bags.
He was such a fucking idiot.
Time to man up.
“Bl…Barb,” he said, striding toward her. At least his voice sounded normal. He wasn’t betraying any of the inner turmoil he felt. “Hey, Barb.”
That she didn’t answer to the name tickled his funny bone.
The driver, who was doing his job well, moved so he was standing between Jack and Blair, no doubt mistaking Jack for a fan.
