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I rise from my seat. “Okay.”

“I see you’re working,” Dad says, inclining his head towards my screen.

I glance back at my laptop. I have an Excel spreadsheet pulled up, and I’m plugging in target demo numbers.

“That’s data on Millennial and Gen Z consumers who are female,” I say. “I talked to Erin, and she put me in touch with the head of the online store. I’m meeting with her whilst I’m there today. I hope that is okay. I wanted to pick her brain on some things for my presentation for you.”

Now the smile appears on Dad’s face. Is it good or bad that he’s only smiling now that I brought up the data and a meeting, and wasn’t smiling when he talked about Mason?

This whole situation is making me neurotic. I hate this.

“Catherine. One day you and Caleb will be running this company. You can meet with anybody you want. I trust you.”

I nod. “Okay, thank you. Oh, and you can have my seat,” I offer.

“Thanks,” he says.

I move to the back of the plane. The air has been smooth today, not turbulent, which is so ironic considering how bumpy my personal life feels at the moment.

Mason is sitting in a chair, dressed in his black Collings Motors polo shirt, his eyes locked firmly on the clouds outside the window. My nerves kick up as I get closer. What will I see when he feels my presence?

Will I see a man who fought to prove to my dad that he is worth the risk I’m taking?

Or doubt after talking to my father?

I pause. Or worst of all, that he no longer wants this potential drama in his life or workplace. That I’m not worth it after all.

Mason abruptly shifts his attention from the window to me, and I stop walking. My heart leaps into my throat. “Let’s go into the bathroom. I don’t want anyone to walk up on us,” he says.

Shit. This is bad. “Okay.”

He gets up from his seat and heads to the luxury bathroom installed on the jet. I shut the door behind us, and Mason immediately presses me up against the door, so fast and quick that a surprised gasp escapes my lips.

And before I can say a word, Mason’s mouth crashes down on mine.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Mason’s lips are greedy and desperate as they demand access to my mouth. I open for him, still stunned by the ferocity of his kiss. His hips are pinning me to the door, his hands are in my hair, and my heart is hammering against my ribs as his tongue wars with mine. His body is pressing into me, all hot, lean muscle, and his scruff is so rough against my skin, it burns.

And oh, I want more of it.

I don’t think about what this kiss means. I’m no longer writing scripts. I’m kissing Mason, losing myself in him, tasting him and feeling him and taking everything he is giving me right now.

He tears his mouth away from mine, both of us gasping and holding on to each other as we try to take in some air. Mason keeps me pinned to the door, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stares down at me.

I search his eyes, trying to decode that kiss.

“What?” he asks, a crease forming in his brow.

“What kind of kiss was that?”

Now he really looks confused. “What?”

“This … that kiss … it wasn’t a goodbye kiss, was it?”

His eyes widen in complete shock, and I swear if he didn’t have me pinned to the door, I’d sag to the floor in sheer relief.

“You thought that was a goodbye kiss?” Mason asks, astonished.