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Somehow Chance negotiated for the Warners to pick the boys up, and they come around first so that we get a chance to get goodbye kisses and hugs, and thank the Warners for agreeing on such short notice. Chelsea hands them a stack of notes, explaining that it contains emergency numbers, general food requirements, and a quick rundown of their developmental benchmarks for reference. Wow. That just reminds me why I love…
Why I think she is tops.
Finally we’re all in the back seat on our way to the small airfield where we keep the jet. Chance catches my eye over the top of Chelsea’s head and gives me a knowing wink. We have a lot of treats in store for her. We haven’t been able to get out, so there is still a lot of rich-kid fun time to be had.
She sighs and snuggles between us in the back seat, a constant grin on her lips. We aren’t too far, and the small airfield appears almost as soon as we emerge from the dense forest that surrounds the lake. The driver circles to the front of our hangar, where the pilot stands in front of the jet, his arms crossed, his official-looking hat perched on top of his head.
“Wait, are you serious? Is this it?” she asks in awe.
“This is the place,” Chance announces with a smirk of satisfaction in his voice.
She looks at me seriously, as if to get confirmation.
“We just drive right up? To the actual airplane? Is this an airplane garage?”
I catch her chin and pull her close, kissing her deeply before answering.
“We call it a hangar,” I smile back. “Now, try to be cool, okay? I don’t want to have to explain to the pilot that you are adopted or something.”
“Wait, what?” she asks hurriedly as I leave the car, smug and delighted.
The driver hands the luggage to the pilot, who stows it in the narrow belly of the plane. Chelsea can barely keep her mouth closed; it gapes as she stares at the Jetstream.
“Hello, sir,” she chirps at the pilot as she climbs the few short stairs to the cabin.
“Good afternoon, miss,” the flight attendant greets her.
Chelsea stops in her tracks, twisting back to crouch down and stare at me as I stand on the stairs behind her. I got a little close, because I was checking out her ass, so I have to lean back.
“You have a flight attendant!” she stage whispers.
“She came with the plane,” I shrug nonchalantly.
“Holy shit!” she hisses before turning back around.
“Hi, Lorraine,” I smile, catching her eye.
She hands me a bottle of champagne and takes my jacket. She’s professional and friendly, without even a trace of jealousy or anything.
“Hi, guys,” she answers. “I was surprised to get your call today. This is a pretty short trip for you, isn’t it?”
Chance shuffles in behind me, dipping his head even though the ceiling really is tall enough for either of us. He smiles fondly at her but doesn’t flirt, not even a little bit.
“Yeah… About twenty minutes? But, you know… Doesn’t make any sense to just leave it here in the hangar. Thanks for coming out on such short notice.”
“Plus, we wanted to show off,” I admit, since I know she has busted us anyway.
She gives me a wink of understanding. “I am happy to help.”
Chelsea is all smiles, childlike and eager, sitting in one of the captains’ chairs with her cheeks rosy, her eyes gleaming. That’s very much exactly the expression I was hoping for. That makes the whole thing worth it. Not exactly cost-efficient, if you know what I mean. But worth it, nonetheless.
Chapter 19
Chelsea
This shit is bananas.
The guys had mentioned that they had their own jets, but I figured that was going to be something huge. Something you would see at O’Hare airport maybe. Instead, it’s totally adorable. Obviously it costs a ridiculous amount of money and it lives in its own airplane house in this strange kind of airport in the middle of nowhere field with other airplane houses, but it’s ridiculous. Like having your own personal hovercraft. Like the Jetsons.
