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“Why so glum?” I jeer cheerfully. “Aren’t we excited about the next month together?”
I beam at Stella, and she ignores me. My lateness really pissed her off. I’m not used to this, answering to people and being tied to someone else’s schedule. A nagging irritation stirs within me, an unsettling realization that Stella’s displeasure bothers me more than I care to admit. Even as I try to brush it off, I can’t.
The cameras follow us to the waiting Hummer that will take us to the airport, and another cameraman sits inside as we pile in.
“Is it too early for a drink?” I make toward the bar as if I’m going to pour one, but Bennet shocks me by responding.
“I could use one,” he growls, and I’m not sure if he is kidding.
“Really?” Stella asks, sounding surprised.
“No. Not really,” Bennet replies in the same tone.
It’s hard to tell with him. His deadpan mannerisms are difficult to read, but I suspect we’ll start to know one another much better as the days progress.
“Any idea where this place is?” I ask as the car starts rolling toward the private airfield at Van Nuys Airport.
“It’s near the Alberta border,” Forrest replies, looking out the window, avoiding the lens that’s almost directly in his face. “Rosewater is the closest town.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“I’m sure it’s charming,” Stella offers brightly.
For the first time, I notice that they’ve been to makeup and wardrobe. I’m the only one who hasn’t.
We’re at the airport in less than half an hour, the driver bypassing all traffic and loading us onto the studio jet. I can’t complain about the accommodations here, and that drink that I’ve been craving despite the early hour of the morning.
“You still want one?” I ask Bennet suggestively, wriggling an eyebrow as the doors shut.
“It’s ten a.m.,” Forrest scolds us, but I’m not perturbed.
“No cameras on this jet,” I remind him, and his eyebrows raise as if he’s just realized it himself. “Come on, kids,” I urge. “One drink to loosen us all up for the middle of nowhere.”
Stella perks up. “I’m in.”
“That’s our Heartbreaker,” I laugh.
Her smile falters some, but she makes no comment as I fix her a martini and offer Bennet the same. He accepts my bartending, leaving Forrest eying the fully stocked bar of the private jet.
“Oh, what the hell,” he agrees.
“That’s the spirit,” I snort, pouring him one and flopping down in one of the luxurious reclining chairs to look out the window.
“How long is the flight?” Stella asks, joining me in the next seat. Her shoulders are already relaxing.
“About two and a half hours to Grand Falls,” I reply. “Then another… half an hour up the mountains?”
“Forty-five minutes,” Bennet pipes in. “Or at least that’s what it says on the map.”
Stella makes a funny sound, and I peer at her through my sidelong vision.
“What?” I ask, falling back to sip on my martini.
She does the same, her fair cheeks staining with embarrassment. Eyes darting around, she exhales.
“I’ve never left California,” she admits.
“What?!” All three of us are stunned by her confession.
