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He opened his mouth. Wisely, he shut it again. “What do you want? Flowers delivered weekly? A photo-op for social media? A meet-and-greet with Feehan HR? What do I have to do to convince you to come with me tonight? Name your bribe and it’s yours.”
The way he rattled off favors, flaunting his influence as if he were some kind of fairy godmother, was intensely irritating. “Sure, okay, fine. Tell you what, you get me to Seattle on New Year’s Eve and I’ll attend your fancy party with you.”
When his eyes lit up with hope, Paula’s conscience twinged. He’d soon learn what she’d just asked for was impossible.
“You got it. Consider it done.” His expression was one of deep satisfaction. “Excellent. That’s settled. We’ll have lunch at noon, then start getting ready right afterwards. Alternatively, we could get ready, have a late lunch, and then take off for the pre-dinner performance at my parents’ house. I’d like to make it in time to see the children’s concert if possible. Either way works.”
“Nope. Dude, it’s not happening.”
“Paula—”
“You’re not going to be able to get me to Seattle, sorry,” she cut him off. “Local flights are all booked up, and I refuse to do the passes in the wintertime.” She was referring to the three main mountain passes bridging Eastern and Western Washington.
He frowned. “What’s wrong with the passes?”
“Nothing, I just hate the steep roads when there’s ice and snow.” She was not about to confess she had a thing about Ferris wheels, rooftops, canyons, and balconies, too.
“The roads aren’t steep.”
“They are steep.”
“You’re afraid.”
“I am not afraid.”
“You are. You have a fear of heights.”
“Precipices,” she corrected. “And it’s not a fear per se. Witness this highrise where I’m living. I’m fine with elevators. I just don’t care for roads that are slick with ice or otherwise hazardous conditions.” Such as being too far from the ground below.
His eyes sought the windows, noting how the blinds were completely drawn. “Have you ever been up to the Seattle Space Needle?”
“Hell, no.”
“Glass elevators?”
“Never.”
“Ever go rock climbing?”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Thought about it, then.” When she shook her head emphatically, he said calmly, “It’s a flat-out phobia.”
She huffed out apffftsound.
“Why not go by way of the Columbia Gorge?” he said slowly.
“I’m not happy with the driving conditions this year.” In particular the steep sections.
“I see.” He contemplated her. “Do you fly?”
“With an aisle seat and plenty of cocktails, absolutely.”
“All right, I’ll buy you a first class airplane ticket.”
“All booked up.” She spread her arms wide in asee? It’s uselessgesture. “Every airline is booked up.” There was no need to elaborate on how hard she’d been trying, and failing, to get home for Christmas. In a wild moment she’d entertained the ludicrous possibility of driving south all the way to Mexico to avoid the mountain passes, but her family refused to hear of it.
“I promise, Paula, that I will get you there. Seattle? On New Year’s Eve, you said? Not a problem.”
