Chapter 1

Carly

Six years later

Though I am rushing through the airport, I can’t help but notice the beauty in the mundane as I speed walk to my gate—the snake-like shape of the line at the pretzel stand, the glow of the neon letters above the snack shop, the sound of ice shaking around at the airport bar.

As soon as I get to my gate I am greeted with the sign changing to show my flight has been delayed by more than two hours. Great. Now I’m left with nothing to do but stew in the Seattle airport. There are so many other things I could’ve been doing, like spending extra time in the museum where I’m interning. I would be so much happier surrounded by fulfilling artwork.

While most of the young kids who take the museum tours are forced to be there because of school or a summer camp outing, there will often be one or two who get the spark. The same one I got the first time my mom took me to the Met during one of our vacations. I was just six, but I was hooked, standing and gawking in front of each painting until my mom had to drag me out of there, crying like I was leaving an amusement park. She got me to shut up by buying me my first easel and acrylic paints at the gift shop, and that was it for me. Life path chosen.

My parents have been surprisingly supportive so far, especially since they would definitely prefer me to join their development company like my older brother Matt has done. They probably still hold out hope that once I’m done with college I’ll realize my art degree is useless and take my rightful spot. But that’s not going to happen. My dreams are too strong, and my vision will not waver. While I long to be a curator someday, I’d still be happier as a tour guide for the rest of my life than live it without some kind of art surrounding me.

As I’m about to pull out my sketchbook to pass the time with the cute little watercolor set I treated myself to last month, my mother sends me a video message request. There’s no ignoring it, because she knows I should be at the airport by now and would definitely go so far as to have me paged.

“Sweetheart, the weather looks dastardly!” she wails, in the airy kitchen at the huge retreat. Sure enough, the sky outside the picture window behind her is dark and dreary. “What’s it look like on your end?”

“Well, my flight has already been delayed a few hours, but the weather doesn’t seem too bad,” I say, flipping my camera so she can see the dreary scene outside. She sighs.

“It’s downright terrifying here,” she says. “High winds, hail ruining the flowers I put out for brunch.” She looks anything but scared out of her wits as she smiles brightly at someone on the other side of her phone. She then flips the view so that I see a guy who looks around my age, rummaging through the fridge. “Louis, say hello to my daughter! I just know you two will hit it off when she gets here.”

Louis looks startled but flashes her phone a smile before scurrying away. She runs the camera from his feet up to his head as he leaves, then flips the view back to me. “Isn’t he darling?” she stage whispers. “Your father invited a lot of his most promising new employees this summer. I hope you’re ready to make some new friends.”

Now I don’t bother holding back my groan. I should have suspected this. Ever since my birthday, my mom decided that the legal drinking age also means the expected marrying age. At the very least she wants to see me in a relationship that’s going somewhere. She’d try the same thing with my brother, but Matt was smart enough to fake a serious girlfriend who’s in medical school and is always too busy to go to family functions. It’s only buying him a limited amount of time but at least he doesn’t have half a dozen suitors breathing down his neck every time we’re all together. He went so far as to photoshop himself into a series of stock images to show off all the time he spends with his imaginary girl.

That’s my mom for you. She means well, wanting us to be as happy and settled as she is. And granted, not many people are lucky enough to still be blissfully married for as long as she and my dad have been. She just refuses to understand I have my own dreams I want to accomplish before I settle down. I want to bring my love of art to as many people as possible, hopefully as a curator of my own museum one day, so there’s no time for her ridiculous nonsense.

I remind her that we’re not in Regency era England and I have a fair number of years before I’m on the shelf. She laughs it off, saying she just wants to make sure I’m not bored. That would be sweet if I didn’t know her true intentions. She probably has Grandma’s ring from the safe, ready to give to the first guy who looks at me so he can propose.

“Ugh, Mom, I need to get going,” I say, cutting off her plans for doubles tennis with my future fiancé.

I try to end the call because they’re making an announcement about my flight over the loudspeakers. Before I can get rid of her, my dad pops up, scolding me for not taking his offer to fly private. His version of hell is waiting in line with crowds of people and makes a big point to have a bunch of trees planted whenever one of us calls him out on his overuse of the family jet.

“It’s fine, it’s not a big deal,” I say, clicking off before anyone else jumps in to try to control my life somehow.

Since they made me miss the announcement, I get up to join the angry crowd around the desk. They’re all muttering about how they’re going to get different flights and I realize my flight has been completely canceled. I groan along with them and pull up the internet to figure out when the next plane in that direction is, when a massive wave of disappointment flows through the crowded airport.

The announcement comes seconds later. Due to upcoming weather, all flights are currently canceled until further notice. Looks like this storm is sweeping half the country and is expected to go on through most of the night.

Am I incredibly unlucky or blessed to be able to delay the upcoming menagerie of men waiting to sweep me off my feet? I decide it’s probably not good news, because it’s not enough to get me completely out of the vacation, just enough to make me suffer at the airport for five or six hours. I’m about to call my mom with an update, moving away from the mob for some quiet, when I just about run smack into the only person I want to see less than any number of future husbands my mom has lined up for me.

Braden Reynolds. My brother’s best friend. I’d completely blocked him out, but of course he’d also be invited to the family vacation. He is as good as family as far as my parents and brother are concerned.

Crap. Yes, this is definitely unlucky.

He stands away from the crowd, frowning up at the info screen, talking into his phone. His light brown hair is as unruly as usual and he somehow seems taller and more buff than I remember, wearing a casual black t-shirt that accentuates his broad shoulders and slim waist. His jeans mold to his muscular thighs and I remembered my brother talking about going to some training camp Braden’s football team puts on every year for charity. It kicked Matt’s ass, but it seemed like Braden was working out regularly with his players to be that built.

There’s no denying he’s scorching hot and always has been, but he’s also annoying as hell and the last person I want to have to spend the next hours with. Now that he’s the owner of one of the most popular pro football teams in the league, he seems even more unserious than ever before.

There was that time in my early teen years when I thought I had a crush on him, but he stomped that out of existence with his constant teasing. I don’t know why I haven’t turned and fled to another part of the airport to get away from him. Why am I still standing there, staring at him? As if my feet are glued to the floor. My eyes almost refuse to blink. How long has it been since I’ve seen him?

He used to always be at our family events, since my parents took him under their wings when he was tragically orphaned. I think I had him down as some romantic figure in my mind, a dark and troubled boy who needed comfort and care to find his true calling.

Nope, he was just a jackass whose only calling was a good time. He finally knuckled down at the last minute to get into the same college as Matt, where they continued their reign of terror over me from afar. I always thought Braden was a bad influence on my brother and hoped they’d part ways after they graduated, but no. They’re as tight as ever, and while they’ve somewhat matured beyond the mortifying practical jokes they used to inflict on me, I still want nothing to do with Braden. Not at the resort, and certainly not now. So, why am I still standing there?

Shit! He turns and spots me, frozen in my tracks like a deer in headlights. No time to duck behind a column now. Great, things just got way worse and annoying than a six hour flight delay. Maybe he won’t recognize me. It’s been a while, after all.

His face shifts and his eyes widen. He definitely recognizes me. This is worse than being unlucky, this seems like some sort of sick karma. What did I do to deserve Braden Reynolds?