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“Thank you.” I hear Cassie say as I open the door.
Lifting my eyes to hers, I leave her with the same words I left with all the rest. “Leave, Cassie, and don’t ever look back.”
Chapter Three
ONE YEAR LATER
Watching the carousel do its job, I search for my suitcase. I glance at my cell. Shit! I’m supposed to be there in ten minutes.
I should’ve purchased a purple or pink suitcase. Hell, at this point, I’d be okay with polka dots. I like polka dots. Anything other than black.
I grab another one that looks like mine and set it back on the belt so it can be delivered to its rightful owner.
That’s it. I’m getting a new suitcase. I’m due. The last time I used the damn thing was a year ago when I left Florida. I never thought I’d come back.
Never!
I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. My four years of college finally paid off. After moving to New Hampshire and going through a few dead-end jobs, I landed this one. I’m the marketing director for GrandMark. It’s opened all kinds of doors for me.
Unfortunately, this door happens to open in Florida.
I couldn’t turn it down. I’m here to oversee the opening of GrandMark’s newest location. They promised I’d only be here for two, maybe three months. They set me up in an apartment and gave me a huge bonus. That’s if I can get the job done in their projected time.
The confidence they have in me is overwhelming but warranted. The revenue I’ve added to the company hasn’t gone unnoticed.
Another suitcase spits out of the black hole. It looks like mine. Rushing to the other side, I bump into a woman.
“Sorry,” I say, eyes locked on the luggage.
I snag it from the belt.
Yes!
Dropping it on the floor, I pull up the handle, and I’m on my way.
I step outside, and the warm air hits me. I stop, close my eyes, and, for a quick second, I absorb the only thing I’ve missed about Florida, the warmth of the hot sun shining on my face.
It was thirty-four degrees when I got on the plane in New Hampshire. The cold weather there is the only thing I don’t like about the place.
Shaking my head, I step closer to the street to wave down a taxi. One pulls up. The man gets out and puts my suitcase in the trunk as I climb into the back.
He gets in. “Where to?”
“The Emerald Hotel on Westchester, please.”
He clicks the meter and heads out into the traffic.
I get my cell from my purse and search for Matthew’s number, my go-to guy at the new location.
“Matthew,” I say, interrupting his hello. “It’s Cassie Redmon. I just left the airport. My flight ran late. I’ll be there in—” I look up at the taxi driver. “Excuse me, sir, how long will it take to get there?”
“Twelve minutes,” he replies.
I like that he didn’t say ten or fifteen. He didn’t round it off.
“I’ll be there in fifteen,” I tell Matthew, giving myself three extra minutes to haul my ass to the meeting.
“No problem,” Matthew says. “I’ll tell them your plane was late getting in and—”
