by Liz Durano
Too bad I haven't heard from Cooper. I've texted him a few times about the change and even called his number but it goes straight to his voicemail. I tell myself his phone must have run out of power or he got my message and figured, okay, cool. I just wish he'd text or call me back. But I also can't help but wonder if he's on a flight headed for Sacramento right now.
"Ready?"
Logan's voice snaps me out of my thoughts and I nod. "I just wish I heard from Cooper. I hope he got my message."
"Didn't you check the flights last night?"
"I did and his flight is grounded. I mean, I booked them so I know the flight number by heart. But beyond that, no one can tell me if he got on another flight this morning or not."
Logan thinks for a few moments before glancing at his watch. "You need to make a decision, Mariah. We have to leave soon if we want to miss the traffic getting out of LA."
I sigh. "Let's go then."
"You sure about that?"
I nod. "Yes, I'm sure."
As Logan eases the SUV into traffic, I look over the travel plans I'd written down on a piece of paper. It's only for three days. Barely two days with family and then we head back home so I can take care of the New Year's Eve wedding that will make or break my career.
For now, the plan is to take the I-5 all the way up to Sacramento and then to the I-80 toward Soda Springs. Logan will be driving for the first half of the trip although if he had his way, probably the whole trip himself. I actually don't mind it. If he wants to drive all the way to NorCal, I'm not going to stop him. I'm too nervous to take the wheel anyway.
But I'm also grateful that Logan is traveling with me. I feel comfortable around him and always have ever since I met him and Liam. Even though I'm comfortable around both brothers, I get along more with Logan because he's the one who picks up the floral arrangements I make for their mother every Friday. Liam also has a long-term girlfriend known to give any woman brave enough to look at her man for more than five seconds the death glare.
And I can't blame her. With their dark hair and steel-blue eyes, the Garrison brothers are gorgeous. They're originally from Mount Baldy, a small mountain community east of Los Angeles before their family moved to Culver City where their father ran the repair shop they now manage. When they're not running the shop, they're both into restoring vintage motorcycles. Last summer, the brothers took a road trip all the way up to Monterey Bay, taking their Triumph motorcycles on a secret route through an Army base. Logan showed me pictures he took along the way and the views were breathtaking.
"Why don't we start with getting to know more about each other?" Logan asks. "How'd a small town Northern California girl find her way to crazy LA? Did you attend college out here?"
"I attended UC Santa Barbara and worked in hotel management for three years which was great. Then while visiting friends down here, I saw this listing for a flower shop for sale and I figured since I love flowers so much, maybe I'd give it a try. And I've been doing it ever since."
"How long was that? When you saw the listing?"
"Four years ago," I reply. "It was hard work in the beginning, just me and one employee, but now I have four employees and a manager. I still make arrangements, of course."
"And can I just say that I love that you still make my mother's arrangements, Mariah," he says. "Liam and I really appreciate it."
"Thank you. I love doing them for you." I don't know much about their mother other than she lost her battle with breast cancer shortly after I met them. When she died, the brothers asked me to provide the flowers for the memorial and the funeral. A week later, Logan placed a standing order for a bouquet of flowers he'd pick up every Friday morning. He wrote a list of her favorite flowers and I even know them by heart.
We don't talk about personal stuff for the next two hours. In fact, we don't talk at all. We leave LA listening to a selection of songs streaming through the speakers, a mix of rock and roll, country, and holiday music. Sometimes we sing along and sometimes we don't, but I like the laid-back energy between us. It's the calm I need before the annual family Christmas visit officially begins.
"So tell me about your family. I need to know something about them if we're supposed to be engaged," Logan says when we stop at Kettleman City for gas and brunch three hours later. "Why don't we start with your parents?"
"My parents own a lodge in Soda Springs. Besides being a well-known stop for skiers on their way to Lake Tahoe, they hold yoga and meditation retreats and nature workshops a few times a year," I begin. "My mom's into all the wu-wu stuff while my dad's the businessman. He knows how to keep things running, balance sheets and all that while she runs some of the workshops."
"What exactly is this wu-wu thing?"
"Mom's into energy, crystals, bodywork, and all that. She'll probably assess your aura the moment you walk in to determine if you're good enough to be part of the family."
"I hope I pass."
I laugh. "Of course, you will."
"Do you believe in that stuff?"
"I don't know. I just know that she was always the quirky parent during PTA meetings with her tie-dye stuff and bangles and necklaces."
"And your dad? What do I need to know about him?"
"Dad's more practical. He's levelheaded which makes them the perfect pair, I guess. They balance each other out. But if there is one little thing… or rather obsession for him, he does like old trucks. He has one in the garage so he can restore it."
"Really? I'd love to see it. Any brothers and sisters?"
"Two sisters and one brother. Emily's the oldest. She's married to a college professor and they've got one kid, Jonathan, who should be two now. They live in Colorado. Then there's Forrest who lives on the property and does a lot of the repairs. He's into building and fixing things... except cars. And then there's Harper, the youngest. She's a fashion and lifestyle vlogger who also handles my flower shop's social media," I reply. "She helped get me that New Year's Eve wedding gig that, depending on whether or not I can pull it off, could determine whether I make it or not in the business."
He grins. "Oh, you'll knock it out of the park, Mariah. I just know you will."
"Thanks. It will be mayhem when I get back."
"Just don't forget me when you become famous."
I roll my eyes. "Logan, stop it. Be serious."
He clears his throat. "Will your sisters be there?"
I nod. "Yup. Emily will probably interrogate us about our... our engagement while Forrest will be his moody self which means he'll be minding his own business. Harper will most likely be taking pictures or filming everything so be ready always."
Logan frowns. "Will she post them online?"
"Usually, she does after much editing. But I can tell her not to include us. I can say that you're a very private person."
He laughs. "Good luck with that. Have you seen my brother's Instagram?"
"You mean your shop's account?"
"No," he replies. "Garrisonbros. Liam manages the account but I'm in it as the other 'bro.' It's nothing wild and crazy but it's where Liam documents our road trips, so me being a private person won't fly."
"But we can't let the engagement thing get out," I say. "I'll make sure to tell her that we don't want to announce it to the world just yet. Just to family."
"That should work."
"So what else do you know about me besides knowing I'm a florist?"
Logan clears his throat. "Since you're wearing my ring, I think you're beautiful and perfect."
"Logan, be serious."
"I am. We're engaged, remember? I'm supposed to be in love."
"I know that but I want to hear you tell me what else you know about me in case you end up saying something that's not true like… like I'm into heavy metal or something. Or that I can cook when I can't."
"You can't? Ah, man. Now I'm really disappointed."
I glare at him and he laughs before continuing.
"I know you like flowers or you wouldn't
be a florist. You also like to wear dresses, most of all these pink and red sari skirts and complementary tops. Like a white blouse over a pink and red sari skirt." When he notices me looking at him quizzically, he adds, "I saw the sari skirt thing in one of Adriana's magazines." Adriana is Liam's girlfriend, a tattooed dark-haired gorgeous woman who works as a film editor when she's not keeping her eye on her boyfriend.
"Okay. You had me worried there for a second."
"And you like reading books. Real books, not those digital e-readers," he continues. "You borrow them from the library. I know because you leave them on your desk and I see the numbers on the spines, which tells me that you return them on time and not incur a late charge like I probably would. That's why I buy my books outright. It's cheaper in the long run compared to all the late charges I'd end up getting. Oh, and you also like patchouli."
"Patchouli?" I frown. "What makes you say that?"
"Because I smell it on you whenever you hand me my mother's flowers," he says. "I'm not saying it's bad or anything. It's faint and it's mixed with something else, another scent that follows right after it. Reminds me of the forest."
"Cedarwood."
"Yeah, that. And something minty."
"Spearmint." I bring my hand to my nose, smelling the inside of my wrist where I'd dabbed one of my mother's signature perfume blends this morning. I'm surprised that he managed to pick up on the cedarwood and spearmint essential oils my mother mixes together with patchouli. Not a lot of people do. "You have an amazing sense of smell, Logan. It's one of my mother's special blends that she makes for me."
He clears his throat. "Anyway, that's all I know about you. That and you're a fun person to be around."
"That's more than Cooper knows about me, so thanks." I don't know why the butterflies in my stomach are suddenly fluttering like crazy all because Logan Garrison knows that I like sari silk skirts, still borrow books from the library, and that I dab a patchouli blend on my skin. He's just observant.
"Okay, your turn," Logan says. "What do you know about me?"
I think for a few moments, not wanting to tell him how much I look forward to seeing him stop by the shop every Friday morning to pick up his mother's flowers or that I love how he smells of metal and exhaust whenever he leans over the counter to talk to me. Mingled with his sexy man smell, it's intoxicating.
"You have a brother who looks exactly like you except that he's got tattoos all over and he wears his hair slightly longer than you do. You love working on motorcycles and going on long rides with your buddies."
"And?"
"You and your brother often restore cars and motorcycles owned by Hollywood actors."
He glances at me with a raised eyebrow. "Everyone knows that from our social media accounts, Mariah. Anything else?"
Should I tell him that he's got the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen and a mischievous smile that makes me wish my car had more things wrong with it so I can bring it to their shop more often? And that includes my two work vans, too. Too bad the brothers keep them all in excellent shape which means I can't bring them in more often than I have to.
"You're originally from Mount Baldy before your parents moved to Culver City because your mother got a teaching job in Santa Monica and your dad opened a repair shop in Culver City." I pause. "Did I miss anything?"
"A lot."
"Alright, help me out then," I say.
"What's my favorite food?"
"I don't know."
"Pizza."
"What toppings do you like?"
"What else? Pepperoni and sausage," he replies. "What about you? What do you like on your pizza?"
"Pineapple."
Logan groans. "Ugh. I can't believe it."
"Believe what?"
"That you, of all people, like pineapple with your pizza. It's blasphemy."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is."
"No, it's not. It tastes great, actually. You should try it."
"No, it doesn't. And I won't."
I roll my eyes, laughing. We can keep at this all the way to Sacramento unless one of us stops it. "Anyway, maybe we should get back on the road?"
He nods, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Great idea."
"What time do you think we'll get to Sac?"
"At this rate, with the traffic, probably after one," he replies, glancing at his watch. "Why?"
"I was wondering if we could stop by Sacramento Airport."
The smile on Logan's face disappears, his smooth brow replaced with a furrow. "Why?"
"What if Cooper did make it onto a flight after all?"
"Didn't he text you that he wasn't going to make it? Didn't you let him know?"
I shake my head. "Not since he called me when I was at your shop. And I did let him know about the change of plans but I haven't heard from him."
"Maybe he thought that was it."
"But I was thinking, what if his battery died? What if his phone got lost or stolen? What if he's on a flight right now?"
Logan's frown deepens. "What happens if he is on a flight, Mariah? Are you bringing two fiancés with you?"
I wring my fingers together, not knowing what to do with them. "I don't know. I just hate leaving him stranded if he does show up. Can we just stop by the airport for my peace of mind? I'll make it up to you, I promise."
Logan sighs though I know he's not happy, his jaw still clenched. "You don't have to make it up to me, Mariah. We'll stop by the airport."
3
Mariah
Sacramento Airport is teeming with people when we arrive. And since Logan refuses to drop me off at the Arrivals Terminal by myself in case we lose each other, we find parking and make our way to the terminal together. I don't even know what to do if Cooper does show up. If he does, then he'll have to be a friend who's tagging along. It's Christmas Eve after all and I can't turn him away just because I found a replacement.
It's a mess and I'm a wreck just thinking about it.
Logan takes my hand and holds it the whole time. His hand dwarfs mine, rough in places but warm. It brings visions of us snuggled under a blanket in front of the fire but I push the thought away. As we stand in front of the double doors of the Arrivals gate, we look like a normal couple expecting a friend to arrive even if one of us looks anxious and the other ticked off.
"His flight just got in," he says as we both look at the board with its flight names and times. "What does he look like?"
I pull out my phone and scroll through my messages. Cooper still hasn't called or texted. I pull up his photograph and hand the phone to Logan. It's a picture of a man wearing a nice suit leaning against a Ferrari. With his blonde hair, blue eyes, and a dazzling smile, he's the 21st-century version of Paul Newman.
"You hired some actor?" Logan asks as he peers at the screen.
"Well, not really. He's an escort." When I see his shocked expression, I add, "But our contract does not include any sex. Just for him to pretend to be my fiancé."
"But an escort usually does other things."
"I know but those other things are not in the contract."
Logan arches an eyebrow. "Seriously? You two had a contract?"
"I had to draft one," I say. "There were certain... duties as far as his job description. Besides, I figured my parents would put us in separate bedrooms anyway, so there was no risk of anything else happening. And I didn't want anything to happen other than what had been outlined..." I pause, realizing how defensive I sound. There's no other way to sugarcoat it. I hired an escort.
"What exactly did you outline? What could he do and not do?"
I clear my throat. "Well, holding hands is okay."
"And?"
"Maybe a kiss. Not a deep one. Just a simple kiss."
"That's it."
I nod. "Yup. That's pretty much it."
"You've got me curious about this contract now."
"Don't be." I chuckle as Logan hands me back my phone. "It was more like a groce
ry list, actually."
"That sounds romantic."
"It was... for, like, two seconds."
We proceed to wait a few more minutes, scanning the oncoming crowd of passengers walking out of the Arrivals gate but see no one who matches Cooper's description. When the crowd thins thirty minutes later, Logan asks one of the passengers if he's from one of the cancelled flights from yesterday and the man says yes, and that others ended up getting on different planes with out-of-the-way connecting flights.
"But that's Christmas Eve for ya," the man says just as we spot the crew exiting the terminal and I'm ashamed to feel both disappointment and relief that Cooper didn't make this flight.
"Let's check to see when the next one comes in." Logan takes my hand and we make our way to the board but find no other flight coming in from New York within the next two hours. We spend the next twenty minutes checking online schedules on our phones to find connecting flights headed for Sacramento. Maybe he took one of those. But the longer we search, the more hopeless it seems to figure out which flight he could be—if he's even on a flight. The news back east still said that only a handful of flights got out and those were all full.
"What do you think we should do?" I ask as look up from my phone. "Until he texts me back, it'll be like looking for a needle in the haystack."
"It's up to you but any longer we stay here, the later you'll get to your parents' place. And if I remember correctly, it's going to be snowing much harder the higher up we go," he says.
I glance at my phone again, wishing Cooper would have texted me back but it's useless right now. Logan's right. We need to hit the road especially when snow's in the forecast the higher we go up the mountain.
"Let's go then."
Logan takes my hand and we make our way through the crowd of people back to the truck. He lets go only when we get to the SUV and pulls open the passenger door. "Hope you don't mind me holding your hand like that, but if I'm supposed to be your fiancé, then I should start acting like one. It is on your grocery list, right?"
"Yup, along with pizza being your favorite food of all time."