Until May (Until Her/Him #11)(16)

“The guys did the same.” He holds the door until I’m seated, then slams it shut. I tuck my coat into my oversized purse at my feet, then put on my seatbelt as he places my bag in the trunk. When he slides in behind the wheel a minute later and turns on the engine, I cringe, seeing the time. “You’ll make your flight,” he assures like he’s read my mind.

“I can’t believe I overslept. I know I set my alarm. I don’t know why it didn’t go off.”

“Maybe it did and you didn’t hear it.”

“Maybe,” I agree as he backs out of the driveway. “All I know is if you hadn’t woken me up, I probably would have slept until noon. So thank goodness your alarm worked.”

“I haven’t been to bed yet.”

“What?” I hiss as my eyes widen.

“I couldn’t sleep last night when I hit my bed, so I went for a run, then waited until it was time to pick you up.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, and he glances over at me.

“Sorry I couldn’t sleep?”

“Yes.”

“That makes sense, since you’re the reason I couldn’t sleep.” He pulls onto the highway, and my mouth drops open.

“I’m the reason you couldn’t sleep?”

“Yep, and after seeing what you went to bed in, I have a feeling I’m going to be losing a lot of sleep,” he grumbles as his hands on the steering wheel tighten, and my stomach dips in response.

With no comeback, I turn my focus to the road ahead like I’ve never seen anything more interesting in my life, then jump when he grabs my thigh, startling me as we exit the highway.

“Look.” He taps the clock, his touch gone so quickly I would think it hadn’t happened if I didn’t still feel where his fingers burned into my skin through my jeans. “You still have plenty of time to catch your flight, and you might even have time to get a coffee before you do.”

“There is nothing better than really expensive airport coffee.” I smile, feeling off-kilter from the tension that has settled between my legs.

“What airline are you taking?”

“American,” I tell him, and he heads for my terminal as I gather my stuff. When he pulls into an empty space to park, I get out when he does, then meet him at the trunk as he places my bag on the sidewalk. “Thank you for the ride.” I pull out the handle of my bag, then tip my head back to meet his gaze. “And for waking me up. I really appreciate it.”

“Let me see your phone.” He holds out his hand, and I frown before digging into my purse for it. Once I find it, I hand it to him, and he taps the screen. “What’s the code?”

“Two-two-one-one-two-two,” I tell him, and he types it in, then goes to my contact list and adds his number before going to my messages and sending himself a text.

“Let me know when you make it home.” He gives me back my phone, then his hand comes up between us, his fingers trailing lightly down the side of my face.

I notice his eyes aren’t just blue but have rivulets of gold shooting out from the center that make them that much more interesting, especially in the early-morning light. I shiver from his touch, and my eyes slide closed when he leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead.

“Get home safe, and I’ll see you soon.” He steps back, and all I can do is nod before I turn with my bag and head inside the terminal so I can catch my flight.

_______________

FEELING SOMEONE TAP my knee, I open my eyes and meet the gaze of the older man who picked me up from the airport. “You’re home, miss,” he says quietly like he doesn’t want to startle me awake, and I smile.

“Thank you.” I yawn before I grab my purse and push open the door. I’m not sure how I could forget how cold it is here, but I apparently did during my too-short trip. Grudgingly, I get out of the car and rush to the trunk, meeting the driver there when he opens it up and pulls out my suitcase. “Have a nice day.”

“You too,” he calls as I drag my bag with me up my walkway, which is still iced over from the snow we had before I left. When I get to my front porch, I freeze at the bottom step—not from the cold, but from the sight of flowers, a stuffed animal, and cards placed on my black-and-white plaid welcome mat.

“What the heck?” It takes me a minute to get my heavy suitcase up the steps, and when I do, I pick up one of the cards and open it up. I’m not sure what I expect to find, but a thank-you letter from Jackson’s—the little boy I dragged out of the water—mom, along with a fifty-dollar gift card for very expensive coffee, isn’t it. Shocked by the kind gesture, I use my keypad to open my door before picking up the rest of the things. I place them along with my purse all on the skinny table just inside my entryway, then grab my suitcase to bring it inside.

The house is quiet, too quiet without my babies, who would normally greet me as soon as I get home, but since they are at my parents’, I won’t see them until later this afternoon when I go to pick them up. I roll my suitcase down the hall to my room and place it in my closet to deal with later, then strip out of my travel clothes and put on a pair of sweats and a baggy long-sleeved tee.

As I walk past my bed, I pause, swearing I made it the morning I left, but the blankets are askew and pillows look like I just got up. With a shake of my head, I put everything back in place, then go to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, hoping the caffeine will give me the boost I need to make it through the rest of the day.