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They had said his name. I wasn’t hearing things. I wasn’t going insane. I was at gate thirty-two.
Tugging my wheeled carry-on, I hurried toward the moving walkway to get to gate twelve.
“There can’t be more than one Daniel Pearson,” I muttered to myself, weaving around a family with a double-wide stroller and two screaming kids.
Then I thought about it, how I first actually met Daniel. Thereweretwo Daniel Pearsons. Could this be Danny? Why would Danny be at the Chicago airport?
I hopped off at the end of the moving walkway and onto the next one, making my way down the longest concourse that had to be in existence and made it to gate twelve.
I went up to the gate agent, a pretty Black woman with a dazzling smile. “Can I help you?”
“Daniel Pearson,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “You called for him. I need Daniel Pearson.”
“Melly?”
“Daniel!”
47
DANIEL
“Melly?”I asked again, completely stunned. I’d been thinking about her non-stop, ever since that text from Danny. Once I decided to go back to Hunter Valley, she was all I could see.
The red hair. The fucking glasses. Her pert ass bent over my bed. Those rosy nipples. Her pussy-clenching screams. Her moans. Her–
Every fucking thing about her and she was right here. At the gate in Chicago. WHAT THE HELL?
She was casually and comfortably dressed in black leggings, a white t-shirt, and a long green cardigan with a striped scarf loose around her neck. Her hair was down and her lips were glossy and stained pink.
A young man in a military uniform stood behind us. He was trained to be courteous and patient and we blocked his way to get assistance. I took Melly’s suitcase with one hand and her elbow with the other and pulled her to the side. I didn’t let go. I couldn’t.
I just got off a seven-hour flight from London and a commuter hop from Edinburgh before that. Somehow, my boarding pass to Missoula had slipped from my belongings getting off the international flight and they’d called me back to the gate. I’d already made it all the way to gate four when I heard my name and had to return. I cursed the whole way back, but now? Fucking thrilled. And tired because I was questioning whether she was real.
“I heard your name and oh my God, Daniel.What are you doing here?” she asked, clearly stunned. Her eyes were wide behind her black rimmed glasses.
“Me? What are you doing here?” I looked around. “Why are you in Chicago?”
A gate agent’s voice announced the final boarding call for a plane to Milwaukee at gate fourteen and passengers flooded past us.
“You’re supposed to be in Scotland.”
“You’re supposed to be in Hunter Valley.”
“I was coming to see you,” we said at the same time.
Bomb. Dropped.
WHAT?
I let go of her elbow and stepped close, cupped her face in my hands. “You were coming to see me? In Scotland?”
She nodded. “But I didn’t know where you were and then there was probably a pretty Scottish woman with you and I–”
“Who?” She wasn’t making any sense.
“You were returning to Hunter Valley?” she asked instead of explaining.
“To see you.”
