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“Yeah, you do.” Noah started stuffing his few belongings into his backpack, and I did the same.
We didn’t have much time. I’d be cutting it close between the drive to Northeast and back to the airport. Plus, Ihateddriving. I hadn’t been behind the wheel of a car since my mother died in an accident.
“How are we getting there?”
I held up the key. “Bryce left a car for us.”
“At least I can depend on him.” My brother stormed past me to the door, and I followed him out.
I stopped at the front desk to pay, but the lady shook her head. “It’s been taken care of.”
I nodded. “Thanks.” But I wasn’t sure that I meant it. Had Bryce known I was here all along? How? Had his men been watching me?
Did… Did his father know where we were?
That last question left me with a pit in my stomach as I unlocked the car and gingerly started it. Taking a deep breath, I left the relative safety of the motel lot. It had been a crappy place to stay, but for a brief moment, it had been an oasis.
Now I had to go and face my husband. I needed to deal with the ramifications of a lawsuit, the threat of losing my brother, and the possibility that Gene Windsor might find out and rain hellfire down on me. The crappy motel was looking better and better, but it was disappearing from my rearview mirror.
And I didn’t know what lay ahead of me.
THREE
surprise
CHLOE
I racedto Northeast Harbor to meet Dale, Bryce’s assistant. He was accompanied by full security detail. After making him swear on his life that he’d keep my brother safe and on the mainland, I headed for the airport. I didn’t trust many people, but Dale was one of the good guys. My brother loved him.
I still made Dale swear on his life. Twice.
I left the parking lot, the BMW roaring. The thing drove like a tank—I had a feeling that Bryce had selected it for that reason, that it would keep me safe. I carefully navigated back into the late-summer traffic, the navigation system guiding me down Route 198 to the airport. I drove below the speed limit the entire way, much to the chagrin of the line of traffic behind me.
As I passed the mountains and ocean views, my stomach somersaulted. I’d be seeing Bryce soon. What on earth was I going to say to him? I couldn’t return to our marriage—I truly felt as though my hands were tied. Gene Windsor had seen to that. If I did, Gene would hurt my brother. He would hurt my husband.
I’d been ordered to stay away. I wanted what was best for Bryce—and of course, for my brother. But I couldn’t help feeling a spark of hopefulness and excitement at the thought of being reunited with Bryce. I’d missed him so much. But now, more than ever, I needed to be strong, to protect him from me.
As I approached the tiny Bar Harbor airport, my stomach tied itself into a knot. There were police officers lined up outside; the entrance was barricaded. I rolled down my window and nodded at an officer. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, Mrs. Windsor. We’re expecting you.”
I gaped up at him. The police officer knew my name?
“The airport’s closed for a private flight. Mr. Windsor’s waiting for you—just pull on through.” He patted the SUV.
A private flight? Had Bryce just flown in? My thoughts buzzed as I drove through the blockade. The police officers were doing their jobs, all right—there wasn’t a sign of the paparazzi anywhere, one slight relief. The press had been chasing us since Gene Windsor was accused of insider trading.
But as I pulled up into the dirt parking lot, any and all relief evaporated. My nerves completely overtook me. There were two black SUVs—which I recognized as belonging to the Windsors—and one random sedan in the parking lot. Bryce’s men were stationed outside at various intervals, but Bryce himself was nowhere to be seen.
My phone buzzed.On the tarmac.
I glanced over: a small plane was waiting on the grassy runway. Bryce stood outside it, sunglasses on, arms crossed against his broad, muscled chest. I almost started salivating; that was the effect he always had on me.Damn.
‘Damn’ was right because I couldn’t touch him. Bryce was like water, water, all around—but no matter how thirsty I was, there would be no drops to drink.
Still, I hustled to the tarmac. I couldn’t help but notice how his shirt strained against this powerful chest and arms, his bulging forearms, and how his thick, tousled hair blew back from his forehead. But I’d be lying if I said that it was his good looks that undid me—it washim. My husband. My love. The person I wanted to fall asleep with every night, the one I wanted to wake up next to.
The man I had to stay away from.
