Page 12 of Nick

I wait for the door to close before flopping back onto my bed. She means well, I know she does. But sometimes the way she looks at me gets to me and I find myself pretending for her. It doesn't feel good. At all.

I shake out my hands, then sit up and hurry through the rest of my packing. I eye the bikini at the bottom of my suitcase, but don't take it out. There's not much to it, so it barely takes up any space. I tend to gravitate toward the sporty suits, the kind that won't let my boobs pop out when I jump to spike a volleyball. This one? I don't see how it could possibly contain the girls. There's just not enough material.

Declan's the first one to catch my eyes when I exit my bedroom. He grins and winks. "Ready to go Little Bee?"

I secretly love the big brother energy he sends my way, but letting him know that would ruin our little game. So I roll my eyes at the nickname, lift my suitcase, and shove it into his hands. "Make yourself useful, dude."

Nick's warm chuckles roll over my skin, making the little hairs stand up. No one has this effect on me, not even my hot new patient at work. Unable to resist him, I turn and rest my butt on the edge of the kitchen counter, matching his pose. I gently nudge him with my shoulder. "Are you actually leaving this building without your leather jacket? Won't it be lonely while you're gone?"

He tilts his chin down a smidge and grins. "I snuggled her up in my bed and left some music playing. She'll be okay for a couple of nights."

A surprised laugh escapes. "Your jacket is a she?"

Something in his eyes heats and sweat beads at the back of my neck. "But of course. She's luxurious, and soft, and wraps around me so perfectly."

I have nothing to say. No flirty comeback. No joke to break the tension. Nothing but a wheezing exhale thankfully disguised by Cara's laugh as she dances away from Declan's grabby hands.

"Let's go. I was promised beaches and sun. Don't keep me waiting any longer," Cara says.

"I always keep my promises, love, always."

We climb into the car for the ride to the airport, and I'm spared the torture of sitting next to Nick. Everyone agrees I get to sit up front. The driver isn't talkative, seeming more focused on getting us there in one piece. We head in the opposite direction of O'Hare, instead pulling into a smaller airstrip.

My stomach flutters when I see a private plane waiting for us on the tarmac.

Declan puts his arm around me and nods towards the aircraft, while Nick and Cara trail behind us. "You ready for the real first class?" he winks.

I'm too shocked to reply, still staring at the plane in amazement even as we board it. The cabin is spacious and luxurious, filled with plush black leather chairs, a couch, and a little kitchen. It's sleek and shiny, and way bigger than Cara described.

I've never been on a private plane before, and I can't help but be overwhelmed by its opulence. There's a stewardess offering us snacks and drinks before we even take off. I say yes to all of them. Who knows when I'll have the chance to travel like this again? I'm going to appreciate every moment of it.

We all buckle up for the flight, and as soon as we're at altitude, Cara and Declan disappear into the bedroom at the back of the plane.

I catch Nick's eye across the table separating us. The grin twitching the corner of his lips sets me off too, and we laugh. Declan's muffled, "We're just napping assholes," makes us laugh even harder.

"They're definitely joining the mile high club," I mutter, gratefully taking a glass of champagne from the stewardess. I settle back in my chair and take a sip, glancing at Nick out of the corner of my eye. His gaze is fixed on me, and my stomach flips at his intensity. I can almost feel the electricity between us in the cabin. I clear my throat nervously and take another sip, nothing but inane conversation starters ringing through my head.

"Can you blame them?"

Nick's voice is low, and I can feel the heat radiating from him. Blame them? For what? What are we talking about? Right, the mile high club.

"No," I answer honestly. "I'm glad Cara's happy."

He nods thoughtfully and takes a sip of his champagne. "What are you most looking forward to this weekend?"

I pause for a moment, thinking about all the possibilities. The beach, the sun, the sound of ocean waves crashing against the shore, it all sounds so inviting. "The water. I can't wait to just...float. Hey, where are we staying, by the way?"

"We rented a private house with a 24-hour butler. We'll have two hundred feet of beach all to ourselves."

My mouth drops open. "That's insane!"

He laughs and pours us each a second glass of champagne. "Maybe. But we can afford it, so why not?"

"I guess. Cara and I have been talking about a Miami trip for a while, but I was picturing a crowded beach and pool, drunk frat boys, and lots of margaritas."

"Sorry to disappoint. Instead, you'll have a private pool and hot tub, and a butler bringing you all the drinks you can handle."

"I think I'll live," I say dryly.

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