24. Cat

Ridingacross the bay in the Belacourt speedboat and piling into Noah's SUV takes no time at all, thanks to the way people seem to move out of the way for him, literally and figuratively speaking. Our travel is so seamless, I almost wonder if he's got some sort of billionaire smile that gets people to move faster when he flashes it.

Is it the way he talks? Walks? The way he dresses? His Mercedes G-Wagon?

I slide into the front seat and settle in, popping open my sparkling water and taking a sip. I've got two cans of LaCroix for the drive and earbuds, just in case Noah's "entertainment" isn't enough to keep his sister out of my head.

I've tried to let the past go. I really have. To be honest, I kind of thought I already had. But when I see Olive, my whole body flushes hot and cold at the same time. It's probably a mix of residual shame, anger, and humiliation.

That doesn't make my feelings any less real. I don't know how to make them go away.

"So where is this place?" I ask while Noah pulls onto the road.

"The Apollo Lounge. Have you heard of it?"

"No."

"We were there a few months ago," Celine says from the back seat, her voice suggestive. "They did a speakeasy night that kind of reminded me of that club we went to in London, Noah."

His cheeks are pink. I don't think I want to know what took place at that club or why Celine is bringing it up now.

"I guess I see the resemblance," he says, pulling onto the freeway and heading north. His attention turns back to me. "My dad knows the owner, so we have family parties there occasionally. It's a nice place. On the smaller side."

Noah's elbow sits on the arm rest, but his non-driving leg is going wild. It's bouncing around like it can accelerate us fully with Flintstone power. My instinct tells me to reach across the console and take his hand to calm his knee, but I curl my fingers around the seat instead. Celine and Olive are sitting right behind us. I don't need them getting a front row seat to me being rejected in case Noah takes my gesture the wrong way.

There's the possibility he'll read into me trying to calm him down and assume I'm making a move.

Blackberry bramble moments aside, this man is my boss.

Time for a subject change.

"Do you like road trips? Otto took me on a road trip to Georgia to visit my grandparents right after I graduated high school, and his car broke down on the way there and the way home." I patted the dashboard. "This baby seems unlikely to leave us stranded in the middle of hickville for two days."

Noah turns a weird expression on me. "Yeah, she's pretty reliable."

"You do know we aren't going on a road trip, right?" Celine asks.

Noah pulls off the freeway, his face whipping toward me. "You thought we were driving?"

"You didn't say otherwise." Panic starts at the base of my gut, swirling around as I look up and watch an airplane take off in the blue sky ahead of us, angled toward the clouds. Why are we at an airport?

"I'm so sorry." Noah sounds panicked. "I thought I mentioned that we're going to the city—Christine's office is there. It's just second nature for me, so?—"

"Hold up." I twist my torso to better face Noah. "Where are we going?"

"The Apollo Lounge."

"Where is it, though, Belacourt?"

He swallows, looking like he just ran over a bunny. "Manhattan."

The world goes silent. "What?"

"We're flying."

"But?.?.?. what?" I repeat, trying to wrap my head around this sudden change in expectations. "I brought LaCroix!"

"You can bring cans of liquid on this flight, Cat. You won't need to, though, because they have it on the plane." He pulls the car onto the side of the road and turns to face me, ignoring Celine laughing in the back seat. I don't know if Olive is laughing too because I'm actively ignoring her. "I'm so sorry I didn't make that clear. Obviously, you don't need to come if this is a dealbreaker. You can drop us off and drive back to the ferry."

He's giving me an out. I look into his dark brown eyes, two pools of rich chocolate that are ringed with concern. The signs for traveling like this were there—his reminder to bring my license, talking about Christine's office, how he has the entertainment covered.

I'd actually asked if he had the music sorted out. It's so cringey I wish the seat would swallow me whole.

Noah's stressing out. His knee is prepping for a rocket launch, and his eyes are boring into me like they can read my mind if they only stare hard enough. The man clearly hasn't been trying to trick me into getting on a plane. This is obviously not a big deal to him. But, I mean, flying somewhere to attend a party and then flying home on the same day? That's wild. Is this something people do?

I guess billionaires do.

Oh my gosh. Wait. I can bring the LaCroix on the flight? That must mean?.?.?. "Do you have your own plane?"

He looks abashed and turns his focus on parking the SUV. His cheeks pink while his gaze flicks to me and away again. How can he be so humble and so filthy rich? At least his knee isn't bouncing so hard anymore.

"You do. It's your plane. That's why you know there's LaCroix on board."

"It'll be cold," he says weakly.

"You hate sparkling water," Olive says. "I was wondering why it's in your fridge."

"Cat likes it."

My whole body goes warm. How does he know this? Am I that obvious? I love the stuff, but I had no idea I was the reason he bought them for his fridge. It makes me feel fizzy. I'm warm and bubbly like a LaCroix left in the sun.

"We should get going." Noah says it like a question and waits for my answer, turning off the car.

Am I doing this? Am I letting Noah Belacourt whisk me away on a plane to attend a party just because he's worried about facing his family alone? I won't leave him stranded, that's for sure. He did say he'd get me home tonight.

Okay, there's also the tiny little detail titled I Want to Go to a Party with Him. I'd read that book, over and over again. Every moment from Noah inviting me when he was fresh off his date with Jane to now has been a dream. The guy went out with Jane freaking Hayes and missed me. What world is this?

One where he's my boss. I need to write it on my hand, because it's really easy to forget when I can see and feel and smell him.

No, I'm not a vampire. It doesn't matter how good he smells.

I can resist.

He's still staring, waiting, so I clear my throat. "Let's go."

Celine lets out a disappointed sound. She really doesn't want me here.

Tough.

The girls start to get out of the back seat. Noah reaches for my hand, squeezing my fingers. "You really can take the car home. I can Uber back later tonight."

"I want to come with you." It's the truth, too. I don't mind this change of plans. Flying to New York City is a vast step up since I was prepared to sit in a car for two and a half hours with my middle school nemesis and Noah's ex-girlfriend. "You've improved the trip already."

"Okay. I don't know why it didn't occur to me to make sure you realized?.?.?. anyway, I'm sorry."

I squeeze his fingers. "Come on, Pennybags. You worry too much."

He lets me pull my hand free and slip out of the car. I swear I hear him say, "You have no idea."

The flight is passing quickly,which is all thanks to the fact that we have this plane entirely to ourselves and I don't have to quietly fight over armrests or wait until the flight attendants show up to get a cold LaCroix. The seats are plush, crafted from luxurious leather in a variety of configurations that mean I don't have to face Olive or Celine for the whole flight, instead sitting directly across from Noah. He's spent part of the time working on something for his app launch party while I read Summer Fling, since I've already finished this month's book club book.

After an hour, though, I'm done reading. I lower the book and watch Noah work. "I thought you were going to entertain me."

His eyes flick up. Somehow, just that look heats my blood. Okay, maybe it's better to read.

"What did you have in mind?" he asks.

So many things we cannot or should not do. Also, anything that keeps us on the opposite side of the plane from his sister would be good. "Anything."

"We can put on a movie. Play a game?"

"Do you have Battleship?"

"No, but I have checkers."

"Done."

He gets up to retrieve the game and returns with a travel-sized wooden board, the squares stained in contrasting shades. We each pull out a drawer on opposite sides of the little board and retrieve the pieces, then proceed to set up.

I arrange all my pieces on the dark squares. "When's the last time you saw your parents?"

"Over a month ago."

"And the rest of your family?"

"I saw Tootsie—it's her birthday party we're heading to—and my grandmother a few months back at a charity dinner in the city. It's been much longer for most everyone else." He sits back, waiting for me to perfectly center my pieces on each square. "My family is busy, but we make it a point to come together a few times a year to celebrate each other."

"Sounds like you're close." I can't remember the last time I saw my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins at the same time. No, I can. It was the trip we took when I graduated high school. My grandparents send cards and call me on my birthday, but we don't see each other often.

Maybe if one of us had a private plane, that would be different.

"We're as close as we can be while we all travel frequently and don't live in the same place. I haven't called Manhattan my regular home in a while."

"But you like it there?"

"I love the city. Florida is home, but there's a lot of good food and culture and people in New York."

"Why didn't you open the Scout office there?"

"I did. That's where we started, but my heart is down in Florida. I spend a lot of time in Sunset Harbor throughout the year, so it made sense to keep both offices running. I don't love my apartment on the mainland as much as my Manhattan flat, but it was a quick buy, and I could change it if I wanted to."

"Bring in a decorator or buy a whole new place?"

"Depends on how long I want to stay there, I suppose." He gestures. "Ladies first."

"Black goes first," I counter, leaning back in my smooth leather seat and eyeing him. "I can't imagine not feeling settled. You bounce all over the place, so which one is home?"

He picks up his checker piece and taps it on the table, looking at me. "I haven't really settled, I guess. Manhattan is the place I've made my own, but?.?.?." He looks at his sister, then back to me. "Sunset Harbor has been feeling like home again lately. I always spend time there. My suite at the resort gets regular use, but this summer has been different. I can't explain why."

He finally moves his piece, so I slide one over too. "Maybe because you're at the house full time. You're not really bouncing anywhere."

"Could be." He moves another. "There are a lot of good childhood memories there."

"And not-so-good ones," Olive pipes in, clearly listening to our conversation.

Noah ignores her.

I move my piece. "If you're happy being a nomad, then you're happy being a nomad."

He doesn't say anything else. Maybe because his sister is listening, maybe because he doesn't owe me any explanation. I want to ask him what about his family makes him so anxious, because he's been bouncing his knee so hard I'm worried he'll hit the table between us and send our game flying. But I don't want to make things uncomfortable between him and his sister.

So I reach under the table and press the tips of my fingers to his knee. It immediately stills under my touch. His entire body seems to turn to granite. "What's going on?" I ask quietly, pressing with my fingers so he'll know what I'm referring to.

His leg immediately freezes. He's still for so long, his eyes running over my face. He wants to say something, I think. Or he's calculating the best way to say it.

"Contention is hard for me," he says quietly, slowly. "It's not something I do well with."

"I've seen you handle uncomfortable situations. You were so good with Bree when she bailed during the photoshoot."

"I'm uncomfortable when people argue. At work, I can defend my employees and manage disputes easily. But when people in my life aren't happy with each other, I get so uncomfortable in my own skin I just want to claw my way out."

"And your parents' divorce has been far from amicable." He must be automatically dialed up to high levels of discomfort anytime he's around them.

"That's putting it mildly."

My heart goes still. This means he's probably set to high when he's around Olive and me. The last thing I want to do is cause him this much distress, but I do it by being around him. And he still wanted me to come on this trip? Knowing my past with Olive and that we'd be forced to travel together?

His parents' contention must be extremely awful if he's willing to endure this plane ride in order to have me there.

I move my checker piece and smile up at him. "Just call me a shield, because that's what I'll be until we land in Florida again."