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Just as we set our stuff down at the gate, my phone buzzes, but before I can pull it out, I know what it says by the chorus of groans and grumbles that rise around me and Serena’s grimace as she tilts her screen. I check my phone anyway, just to be sure.
Cancelled.
At the desk, the attendant raises the microphone, her tired voice asking passengers to come up for rescheduling. Serena sighs. Next to me, a girl bursts into tears. I stand, hoisting my duffle bag over my shoulder and remember the bus terminal. I took that bus between Toronto and here a few times, but a quick check tells me I’m out of luck. It’s too late.
I know for sure I’m not sleeping in the terminal, so I take one last look at the line-up, where a family is currently arguing with the attendant about how all seven of them have to fly together and I dip my head to Serena’s. She’s furiously typing on her phone, her expression tense.
“You going to get in that line-up?” I ask.
She looks up, biting her lip. “I should, I guess.”
“I’m going to head to the hotel and get some sleep. I’ll try to rebook online, or at the counter tomorrow, and worst-case scenario, I can get the bus from here to the Toronto terminal first thing in the morning, if they have seats left.”
Serena cranes her neck to where the line is snaking down from the desk. She wrinkles her nose. “I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon.”
“You really think standing here for two more hours is the best option?”
“No, you’re right.” She tilts her head. “You know how to get to the hotel? Lead on.”
2
Serena
My phone buzzes incessantly, but I ignore it as I follow Mr. Tall, Dark and Dangerously Handsome through the airport, up escalators and through lines of people without really noticing anything but the way Owen moves. He moves with the kind of grace I’m used to seeing from celebrities who are big enough to have the kind of confidence that comes from never having to say, ‘don’t you know who I am?’ because everyone and their dog actually knows who they are.
Except, I don’t know who this guy is. He moves like a rock star, but he’s built like a linebacker. His clothing is well-made but not loud or flashy. Maybe he’s just a guy whose family owns a bakery, like he said. Maybe he’s the king of pop-tarts. I smile, just as he turns to see if I’m keeping up and he shoots me a slow grin that makes my lady parts tingle.
I give myself a little shake. Tingling or not, my recent experiences have convinced me to swear off guys. Prior to being ghosted by Snapchat guy, I’d been dating Travis, a hot guitarist who was only trying to get close to my sister. And before Travis, I was dating Sharif, a businessman from Dubai, who turned out to have more than just business interests there. He had a whole other freaking family. And apparently, a girlfriend in Australia too. California, Dubai, Australia? That guy’s frequent flier miles probably gave him enough leeway to cheat all over the world.
And what did these guys all have in common? Too hot formyown good. Confident, sexy men who were able to pull the wool over my eyes too easily.
Now here I am following another gorgeous man when I really should have just stayed in the terminal and begged to get on the next flight to Toronto. My trip doesn’t even end there. Once I land, I have to pick up a rental and drive to the quaint little town of Sugar Maple Shore, where I need to swing into action and finalize the most amazing Christmas wedding for my sister. All within a couple of weeks. Savannah has been living in Los Angeles too long. My very famous sister – so famous everyone, their dog,andtheir grandma has heard of her – is a popstar princess who is currently on a massive tour and is secretly marrying the love of her life in a surprise wedding at this fairytale-esque bed and breakfast where her best friend got married last summer. But, because of the aforementioned tour, and because she can’t exactly show up easily in a small town and blend in, I’m taking care of things.
Am I a wedding planner? Nope. But Sav doesn’t trust easily, and she’s afraid her perfect Christmas wedding will somehow be less than perfect, and I’m the details person, so here I am, shivering in my wool coat, hoping I get there in time to meet the wedding coordinator tomorrow. This whole thing is already more last-minute than I’m comfortable with and Sav has sent me off with a list as long as my arm for all the fun, holiday stuff she wants to incorporate.
Fun. My idea of holiday fun is an all-inclusive beach resort without wi-fi, a good book and as little communication with anyone as possible. Snow, holiday cheer and a secret, celebrity wedding? Kill me now. If Sav wasn’t my sister, and the most generous, sweetest person on earth, I wouldn’t be here, in Detroit following Hottie McHotterson around.
We move past a check-in counter and through another door and I blink. Suddenly we’re in a hotel lobby. I turn around and glance at the door behind me. I had no idea there was a hotel here.
Owen steps up to the counter, a charming smile on his face. The man behind the counter smiles flirtatiously as he takes Owen’s card and hands him a key card in return. I move forward, my bag feeling like a hundred pounds. Oh, shit. My luggage. Do I need to go get it? What happens when they cancel a flight?
Owen is off to the side, staring down at his phone. “I’d like a room, please,” I say, sliding my card across the counter.
The man taps his keyboard, frowning. He leans in and peers at the screen, frowning some more and holds up a finger. He picks up the phone and speaks quietly to someone on the other end, before turning to me with a sympathetic smile.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, we’re full.”
“What?” I was just starting to look forward to a bath to warm up after this long day. “But…” I turn to Owen who looks up, his brow arched.
I pick up my card. “You don’t have anything? I’ll even take a suite.”
He shakes his head. “There was rush about an hour ago and we don’t have anything left. There are a number of hotels with shuttles in the area, if you want to check one of those.”
I’m not relishing the prospect of moving off-site and needing to come back quickly to get my luggage or check-in quickly. Plus, what if the storm gets worse and I can’t get back? I know that in that scenario, an airplane isn’t going to take off either, but my anxiety is ramping up, and combined with my exhaustion, I’m not thinking straight. Tears burn my eyes and I blink them back. It will be okay. I’ll head back to the gate, plug in my phone and figure out how to get on the earliest flight out of here.
I nod to the hotel clerk and turn away, but Owen grabs the sleeve of my coat. “Hey, where are you going?”
I shrug. “No rooms left, so I’m just going to head back to our gate. Maybe get in that line-up.” I offer him a weak smile.
