Chapter Three

“ I didn’t even have time to text my parents that I actually got on another plane.” Reese tapped her front teeth nervously with one short, burgundy-colored nail.

“It’ll probably be okay. I texted my parents while you were getting in your seat, and I mentioned I was with you. By name. Knowing my mother, she’ll somehow know your mother, and she’ll put them in the loop. If not, they’ll have answers in under four hours.”

“Oh. Good.” She sat back, relaxed for the first time in over a day. Unlike their previous doomed flight, this plane understood the assignment. Within minutes of boarding and the flight crew securing the door, they were taxiing out of San Francisco and climbing into the air. If her math was right, they would arrive in Pensacola around six in the morning—local time.

“Flights are going to be booked solid. We might be able to get a standby ticket,” Derrick said, his voice weary and hesitant.

He means single seats. Long shots.

Not traveling together anymore.

The peace she’d had was replaced with a double helping of misery. First, Jeff. Now, Derrick.

You can’t even compare them. One was your boyfriend for a little over a year. Derrick isn’t even a friend. I don’t know if he’s a friend. Do adults just go up to one another like little kids on the swing set and ask, “Will you be my friend?”

“I am! I mean—we are. I thought. I think in this situation, yes, we’re friends.”

“Holy shit, did I say that out loud?” Reese turned her head to look at him, still flopped back in her seat.

Derrick laughed softly, patting her hand. “Yes. You did.” He sank back in his seat, too.

The flight attendants were already going around, offering to dim lights and handing out eyeshades. The little 737 they were on had two rows of two seats.

“This is kinda fun. A flying sleepover,” Reese sighed, snuggling into her seat and trying not to shiver. The long, chaotic day was washing over her. She was afraid she was going to start crying again, out of nowhere—maybe out of relief. “I’m so glad to be going home. To people who love me. I thought he loved me... When he threw me out, he made it clear there was pretty much nothing he liked about me but my—never mind.”

Derrick said nothing for a minute, then pulled out a square of faded yellow fabric from his laptop case. He unfolded it so many times that Reese stopped counting and just watched as it expanded into the size of a small throw blanket. He draped it over her and took a third for himself, scooting close to her. She reached between them and folded the armrest away, jumping slightly in her seat when their legs pressed together.

“He sounds like a liar to me. You’re really likable—even if you do things I don’t like.”

She winced. “I’m so, so sorry about dragging you into the whole performance back there. I’m usually not like that. Well—not that much like that. I just act fast.”

“Oh, that. No, I meant being a little bit...disorganized? Impetuous? I’m not good at that. Even as a kid, I had to know what was going to happen. I’m probably the only second-grader who asked for a day planner along with his Crayolas, light-up sneakers, and glue sticks for back-to-school shopping.”

“Oh, honey... That’s adorable and a little sad,” Reese couldn’t help the words that came out of her mouth—or the face that she made. “Did I mention I have no filter?”

“I figured that out,” he said dryly, pulling a face of his own. “But you’re right. Being that worried about details can be a little sad. Sometimes a person organizes themselves right into no social life and high blood pressure.”

“That sounds like an antacid commercial and a hospital bill waiting to happen.”

Derrick’s face slackened into a thoughtful frown.

To stop him from going down whatever mental rabbit hole he was considering, she blurted. “I’m organized at work. I just suck at managing my own life, apparently.”

“Well, we’ll be on the east coast in a few hours. That’s pretty good management if you ask me.” Derrick’s voice dropped to a hush as the cabin around them settled to sleep.

Reese squirmed closer, butterflies bursting into form in her belly as their hands brushed, then clasped under the blanket, and their legs moved to press more tightly together. “I’d rather get there in time for Christmas dinner than Christmas morning if it means I can have you with me,” she whispered. Another impetuous thing. A risk, making some stranger so important.

He doesn’t feel like a stranger. And I have nothing to do but get to know him for the next day. Unless he freaks out.

Derrick wasn’t freaking. He was yawning. When he stopped, he smiled sleepily, face smushed into the side of the seat, glasses crooked. “I was thinking that, too.”

A shared smile. A beat where the butterflies flourished, but her heartbeat slowed.

“Do you travel a lot for work?” Derrick asked.

“No. I’m a behind-the-scenes person. I do boring stuff with maps,” she whispered back.

“If we can’t get a flight, we can take a train. It’ll take about eighteen hours to get from Pensacola to Philadelphia by train. Then we could rent a car. Or see if we can get a puddle jumper to Binghamton, but the closer it gets to Christmas day, the harder it will be to get a flight. It might even be hard to get a seat on a train. Or a rental car.”

“God, I really messed up,” Reese groaned, eyes closing.

“Huh? This isn’t your fault. You were going to get to Buffalo just fine. Not your fault the airline canceled the flight. Then what was going to happen?”

“My dad was going to pick me up.”

“Well... maybe we can still get him to pick us up.”

“That’s so cute.”

“What?”

Reese bit her lip. How could she explain that the idea of her and Derrick sitting in the back of her dad’s car, holding hands and laughing as they rode back to their hometown, was so sweet and innocent and adorable? So “young love”?

I’m thirty-two. No more young love for me.

“Nothing.”

“You better tell me. I’ll take my handy-dandy, perfect-for-the-traveling-man blankie back,” he threatened in a teasing tone.

“It would be cute to have someone to bring home for Christmas, riding in the backseat of my dad’s car while he drives and makes awkward small talk like when he used to drive me to the movies with my high school boyfriends. Okay?”

“Okay. That does sound cute, in a cheesy holiday movie kind of way.”

“I hate to tell you this, but I think we’d be booed off the set. The girls in those movies are all cute, crafty, perky twenty-somethings with leggings and a budding bakery. None of them go around mapping sewage treatment centers.”

“Maybe. I think you’d get the part. But me? I think I’m supposed to be rugged and wearing plaid, trying to save my family ranch or something. No business casual engineers who are married to their Google calendars and have travel blankets and miniature eyeglasses repair kits in their laptop cases.”

“I don’t know. I’d date that guy.”

Derrick didn’t say anything for a moment. Several long moments.

In fact, she stopped hearing anything at all, but she fell asleep holding his hand.

THIRTY-SIX. MARRIED to your schedule. On the way to antacids and strict orders from the doctor to get a life before you lose it.

Derrick looked at the sleeping woman beside him. Her face was flawless, and youthful, and even in her sleep, Reese looked like she would wake up with a smile and start talking nonstop.

He realized he was smiling at her, just thinking about waking up and hearing her plotting and planning kick into overdrive.

“Mm.”

In her sleep, she stretched, snuggled, and flopped, burrowing into his shoulder.

It was definitely wrong to pull her close and wrap them more tightly in the blanket, resting his head on hers.

They were both exhausted and had coffee and candy cane breath.

I don’t care. I’d kiss her this second if she woke up and wanted to.

You need sleep, man. You’re talking crazy.

She’s a little crazy. I think I need a little crazy.

“Mmm!” This moan was happy, and the snuggling turned to nuzzling, her cheek against his shirt, warm and soft.

I want a little crazy.

I want it a lot.

His body sent up sleepy signals that his mistress—his immaculate schedule—lacked all sex appeal. Neat, orderly rows of dates, deadlines, and meetings had no soft curves, no long legs, no absolutely grabbable ass...

No magic. Pine Ridge girls seemed to have an unfair share of it, but he’d never found one that put him under a spell.

He wasn’t going to sleep yet. He was going to stare at her a little longer—and pull out his phone and use the in-flight Wi-Fi.

I’m going to have a Christmas Eve surprise for Reese.

“I’d date that guy,” she said. Well, I’m him. I’m that guy.

“I could be that guy you’re looking for,” he whispered, working to free his phone and still keep one arm around her.

“Mmhmm,” Reese agreed in her sleep.

Let’s hope that’s still true when she wakes up.

“GUESS WHAT?”

Reese opened her eyes—and tried to open her mouth. She felt like her lips were gummed together.

I need to brush my teeth. I need water.

I need to pee. Like, immediately.

He needs a shave.

A scruffy face was looking down at her from inches away, snuggled close in low light. Soft voices murmured in the background, and feet shuffled and rustled past as people made their way to the tiny airplane restroom.

“Mm?” Reese settled for an inquisitive noise, pulling away to shield her companion from morning breath. Or was it middle of the night breath?

How could he look so bright-eyed and happy when they’d only had a few hours of sleep?

And why am I smiling back, even though I feel like a crusty old shoe?

“If we take the commuter express at 8 AM, we’ll be in Gainesville in a couple of hours. From there, we can get a train to Cleveland, OH.”

Reese blinked. “Hm?”

“A train to Cleveland?”

“It will get us there in twenty-four hours—there are stops and things—but then we can rent a car and be home for Christmas dinner. I think it’s about a six-hour drive from Cleveland to Pine Ridge. Maybe less if there’s no traffic.”

Gratitude and a confused, angry feeling bubbled up in her chest. “You figured that out? Without me?”

Derrick looked smug. “I sure did. I even got us the tickets on that puddle jumper to Gainesville. I used all my miles, but that’s okay. Work paid for my flights, so I could afford to pay for yours.”

Reese tried to smile and find words at the same time. Her bladder told her words could wait. “Be right back!” she hissed, rose, and stumbled into the aisle, nearly colliding with a bedraggled-looking man making his way back to his seat and knocking over a toddler’s sippy cup with her shoulder bag. Dodging glares and feet in the aisle, she finally made it to safety.

In the cubby-like bathroom, Reese scrubbed her face and rinsed out her mouth while digging in her purse for gum. Bladder emptied, she tried to deal with her full mind.

That was without a doubt the nicest, sweetest, most helpful thing Derrick could have done in this situation. He knew she wanted to get home for at least some part of Christmas—and she didn’t want to go alone. Since Jeff ruined—well, everything—the idea of doing all this traveling alone seemed so much scarier and sadder.

Jeff.

Jeff would do something like this. He’d make big decisions without her input or asking her to weigh in on their plans. He would laugh off her pouting complaints and tell her that she’d leave it too late or wouldn’t think things through.

She had helped plan three urban waterway improvements and six utility and wastewater treatment plants in the last year, literally in charge of the safety of millions. Why did Jeff keep treating her like a child? Why did he act like he had to plan their lives unilaterally?

He made the decision to dump me unilaterally, too.

“Gr!” A tiny growl escaped her lips, and she marched back to sit beside Derrick just as the captain warned them they’d be making their descent.

“Hi! I got you a water bottle. I thought—”

“You thought you’d better make all the arrangements because I’m scatterbrained little Reese, reckless Reese, and I can’t handle things!” She crossed her arms and glared, daring him to challenge her.

Derrick squinted at her for a moment, then pulled off his glasses.

She waited for the patronizing tone telling her it was for her own good. She waited for him to explain she was crabby from stress, lack of sleep, and that she was probably hangry. At the very least, she imagined he’d get defensive.

Nope.

Derrick fumbled with his phone. “Oh. I... I didn’t want to wake you up. Um. That’s okay. Someone else will be glad about the tickets, though. Or ticket. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

Reese waited for an onslaught that didn’t come. Her elbows dropped first, then her hands fell to her sides, crossed arms yielding. “It was a good idea about the flight.”

“You think so?” He looked up from his phone, face confused. “You sounded so angry. Was it because I paid? Ugh, I was worried about that! But if it’s a big deal, you can pay me back. Or the train tickets. You could buy the train tickets?”

“You’re not mad at me?” Reese demanded.

“Um. No? You’re mad at me... Right?”

“No. No, I’m not. I’m mad at Jeff. He used to do things like this all the time. Including dumping me. You know, making the plans and decisions without even asking me about them?”

Derrick nodded. “I guess I thought we had talked about it. Before you fell asleep last night, we talked about getting home and traveling together, and we said how tricky it would be to get home. I thought it would be nice if I did something... nice.” He shook his head. “That sounds so lame. Something to help fix the problem without making you fix it. Like surprising you? I wanted to show you I... could...you.”

Reese leaned closer as Derrick folded up his travel blanket and mumbled into his chest. The butterflies from the night before were replacing the angry wasps and their eager stingers as her indignation faded. “You’re nothing like Jeff. I like that about you,” she murmured softly, putting her hand on his elbow. “What did you say?”

“I said that I wanted to show you I could take care of you. Not in a controlling bastardly way. Is bastardly even a word?” Derrick rubbed the back of his neck, eyes closed and shoulder falling with a deep sigh.

“It should be,” Reese nodded firmly. “Go on.”

“In a friendly way. Like a partner. Traveling partner !” he amended, voice cracking suddenly. He coughed. “I need some water. Or coffee. And food. Definitely food.”

“Jeff used to tell me that I was just hangry when I would point out the way he made decisions for me.”

“You could be righteously angry and hungry. They’re not mutually exclusive,” Derrick pointed out.

It was pure impulse, the kind of thing Jeff would frown upon—and that made it all the sweeter. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’m hungry, too. And I’m concerned about taking a train from Gainesville all the way to Cleveland. Wouldn’t it be quicker to drive? We could take turns. We could stop when we’re tired.”

“Drive?” Derrick’s voice was wondering as his fingertips traced over the spot her lips had just been.

The plane veered down sharply, and Reese gripped Derrick’s hand as the plane dipped and bucked for a harrowing second. For a second, it felt like her lungs were crowding her chest, and she had to shut her eyes. “I hate this part,” she squeaked.

“That’s okay. Almost over. Tell me about driving, honey. Wouldn’t it be easier to just take the train?” his voice was soothing as he gripped her hand.

Wheels hit the tarmac with a skid-bump, skid-bump, and then there was a merciful slide into stillness. People began to pull out their phones and shake their loved ones awake.

“I think it’d be too much for one person, but look—” Reese pulled out her phone and fiddled with it, ignoring a myriad of notifications to get to a map. “From Gainesville to Pine Ridge is only about 16 hours. With stops for food and bathroom breaks, and even a few hours at a hotel, it would still take less than twenty-four hours.”

“Okay. That’s a good point, but... it’s Christmas Eve. Do you think there are going to be any rentals left at a small regional airport like Gainesville?”

Reese bit her lip. “Do you think there are going to be any seats left on a train?”

“You may unbuckle your seatbelts and check your surroundings for any belongings you brought on the flight,” a flight attendant instructed, breaking into their worried silence.

“BY THE TIME WE GET to Pine Ridge, I’m going to be wearing that damn travel blanket,” Reese groaned.

“I’ll buy you a Gainesville t-shirt. Maybe a Sunshine State sweatshirt?” Derrick hazarded as they rattled into the air in an e-jet with about fifty seats—all packed.

“How could they lose two more bags? Like, where do they go? Is luggage raining down across Florida? Are my favorite sneakers scattered somewhere over Albuquerque?”

“It’ll all catch up to you,” Derrick soothed, and then wondered if he was doing this wrong. Should he be frustrated with her, so they could commiserate together? He traveled light, and all of his belongings were in his carry-on bag, his bookbag, or his laptop case, which admittedly had a ton of zips and pockets for odds and ends. Reese’s hard, neon pink laptop case was more like an oversized lunchbox, a padded shell.

Impractical. Emotional.

Irritation surged, not just at the airlines for continuing to mismanage her luggage, but at himself and dating in general. This wasn’t even dating. This was a travel boot camp with the worst-prepared partner. If this were a reality show, they would have lost by now.

I haven’t dated anyone in years. A dinner here, a movie there—nothing comes of it. It’s because I’m too boring, too basic. No flash. No style—unless that style says boring, basic white guy, nearsighted edition.

Even working out a couple times a week hadn’t turned any heads at the gym or The Pine Loft, his local coffee shop.

Reese’s impulsive kiss on the cheek and the way she held his hand made him think about relationships—and also realize that it was completely unlikely to last.

I don’t know how to be with someone—especially not someone like her. She’s a ten.

Okay, a nine and a half, but we’re only taking off points because she knocked over that display of earbuds and phone chargers as we were running to make this flight after filling out the “My luggage is still on the other plane, please send it to me at this address” form.

And she’s still ranting—and the bag of chocolate is back out.

“I live on coffee and chocolates,” Reese said when she caught him looking, and held the bag out.

“I’m good.” They’d just eaten overpriced and slightly rubbery egg and ham bagels from a kiosk inside the airport. He’d purchased them while Reese was arguing with a member of airport staff about getting her luggage off the San Francisco to Pensacola flight in time to get onto the regional Pensacola to Gainesville flight. With only an hour or so between landing and take-off, there were no guarantees.

“How can it take so long to get bags off one plane?”

She’s been through a lot. She’s whining. She’s tired.

We both need to get the hell out of cramped little seats.

“I’m driving you nuts, aren’t I?” Reese groaned and downed the rest of the coffee in the insulated cup (purchased with the rubbery bagel).

“What? No.”

“I know I am. I think it’s because I talk out loud when I’m stressed. I talk through my problems. Working alone, at home, I do that. I talk myself through things because half the time the people I’m working with are in another time zone or home with their families when I suddenly figure stuff out.” Reese’s voice dropped. “Jeff called it word vomit. He needed quiet to think.”

“Oh.” Derrick cocked his head. “Well... I have these.” He pulled his earbud case from his pocket. “If I really needed to think and my girlfriend just wanted to talk out loud, I’d put these in and let her do what she needed to do. But if she wanted to talk to me, I’d listen. I’d just suck at it. I make little lists and go through things in order. I’d probably drive her crazy, with everything all planned out.”

Reese shrugged. “I don’t know. If a guy included me on the plans, I’d like that.” She smiled at him, wiping the corners of her mouth on a paper napkin, “I also like the earbud thing.”

“You do?”

“Yes! You’re just getting what you need and letting her have what she needs.”

Derrick felt a prickle of hope dance through his chest. “We both need to figure out how we should get to New York—plane, train, or car. Long-distance flights on Christmas Eve with only a couple hours’ notice are going to be the worst bet.”

“I’ll look at planes and cars if you look up trains?” Reese smiled and pulled out her phone.

He opened his laptop, and immediately, his synced to-do lists popped up.

“Oh, wow.” Reese peered over at him. “You weren’t kidding.”

Well, might as well say the truth now so I can stop pretending. “I’m a basic, boring guy. With glasses. There’s nothing special about me.”

Reese frowned at him—and then threw a piece of chocolate at his face.

“Ow!”

“Don’t say that about my friend. He’s smart and funny and a great actor. He puts up with my crazy ass, and he obviously would be a dating god.”

Her last statement was so bizarre that Derrick actually scanned the cramped plane around them to see who Reese could be talking about.

She grabbed his chin and pointed it back to herself. “ You , doofus.”

There was no way his entire body should jump in pleasure just from the way she yanked his gaze to hers and locked eyes with him.

“Me?”

“You. You make people feel like they’re going to be okay—and then once the shit settles down, that they’re going to have fun. Do you know that?”

“No. No one has ever told me anything even remotely like that.”

“Then you’ve been dating the wrong women. Real grown-ass women only want thrills in the bedroom. In everyday life, they want a guy who has his shit together, holds a job, cleans up his own messes, and loves them even when they look like crap. Oh, and they want coffee, chocolate, fuzzy socks, houseplants that are hard to kill, and a cat of their very own.”

“I like cats.”

I’m sucking at this.

Buuut apparently not. What the hell? “This is Snickerdoodle. He died two years ago. I’d had him since I was fourteen.” Derrick tapped away his lists, and his computer screen revealed a long-haired sandy-colored cat with amber eyes, looking adoringly into the camera.

“Ohhh, oh, he’s so precious. Jeff was allergic to cats. I used to foster kittens until they found forever homes—but then I thought I’d found my forever person, so I stopped.”

“Hm. I made it a mental rule that my forever person would want cats. At least one.”

Her hand was back in his again. “That’s a good rule.”