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“And your young lady?” He gives me a little nod and a wide smile, which I can’t help but smile back at, shyly. But hang on, I’m not anyone’syoung lady. Dean, still holding my hand, tugs me forward and introduces me.
“John, this is Abbi. She’s… an associate.” Dean smirks. I’m not too sure what to make of that, and I find myself blushing as I take my turn shaking the man’s hand. John has the good grace to keep a straight face and not press the subject. I like him already.
“I’ve signed the contracts and emailed them all back to you, Dean. Our first customers are signed on for next weekend. I can’t thank you enough for rushing the work for me.”
I raise my eyebrows. Now I’m confused.
Dean fills me in. “This is a special helicopter. It’s the safest in the world, in fact, and the only one some big-name celebrities and high-wealth individuals are able to obtain insurance to travel in. When John’s not using it, he’ll lease it out to carry clients, and one of his sons is going to run that business for him. A chopper flight across the city is much more efficient for Beyoncé than road transport.”
“Ah, I see.” I don’t really, this all soundswaaayout of my league.
“So, you’re ready to go up?” he asks, and again, I look at Dean questioningly.
“Go? Go in that?”No way.I thought we’d be dropping off some paperwork and maybe grab a burger or something to go over the plan for the rest of the week.
A ghost of a smile crosses Dean’s lips, and it stirs up the butterflies in my stomach. He nods slowly.
“Ready?”
Good question. I’m definitely ready for the experience in a helicopter, but am I ready to get bundled into another tight space with Dean Lawless, where my blood will be rushing, my heart pounding caused by the events going on around us as well as his closeness? At this point, I really don’t have a choice. It’s all organized, and the hopeful expression on his face—saying no would be like kicking a puppy.
Also, this looksfun.
There’s only a small, rational, annoyingly outspoken part of my brain that’s whining about this being a mistake. I probably should’ve just spoken to him on the phone, run through all of the dating advice, let him get on with the next date, and continue to cross my fingers. Maybe sacrifice a chicken in the hope that it’ll help him make a match. That would keep him out of harm’s way or at least out of my way before my heart-filled eyes give the game away.
A small part of me must have known that there was a chance of ending up way too close to Dean and having to get a grip on myself to remember my role in all of this.
I find myself rationalizing it all away. Who’s even going to know if this is a somewhat unorthodox counseling session that might qualify as the most exciting date of my life under other circumstances? Yes, I still have to work on finding a match for Dean. His next date is organized—I just have to give him the details.
Would it be so wrong to enjoy myself for once and see where the evening takes me?
