by Dylann Crush
When she ended the call with the tux shop, she wasn’t smiling. “They can only stay until six-fifteen. The guy’s kid has a choir recital tonight, and he won’t miss it.”
“Not even when you threatened him with the wrath of the next possible Vice President?”
She let out a sigh. “I don’t like to throw my dad’s name around. Besides, we’re keeping things on the down low, remember?”
Zach nodded. “Your call. Airport or tux shop?”
“I know it will be out of the way, but can we get the tux first? I can’t afford to miss him.”
“You bet.”
She plugged the address into her phone GPS and propped it on the small center console. The entire route showed up in red with an estimated time of arrival at six-forty-five.
“He’s going to have to wait for us.” She dialed again and begged the manager to stay open until they got there.
Zach knew from her end of the conversation that it wasn’t working. She switched tactics, asking if there was somewhere he could leave the tux. Maybe a neighboring store or behind the building somewhere. When she hung up, she shoved her phone into her purse and crossed her arms over her chest in a huff.
“Let me guess. He’s not willing to wait?”
“No! What’s wrong with people? If I don’t get the tux, we won’t be able to leave until tomorrow. My brother is only getting married once. And he has to have a tux. He can’t say his vows in board shorts.” She buried her face in her hands.
Zach bit his lip to keep from smiling. It wasn’t funny. Reagan had spent the past several months making sure Teddy and Cal would have the wedding of their dreams. But he couldn’t imagine causing such a fuss over a stupid suit. He had no plans to tie the knot, but if he ever did, getting married on the beach in board shorts would be his ideal setting. Follow the ceremony with a dip in the ocean, a cookout with fresh fish on the grill, and plenty of rum punch and he might possibly be able to envision a ceremony like that.
But Reagan’s shindig had to have the best of everything. Men would be decked out in monkey suits and the women would probably be sinking into the sand in their formals and stilettos. And if her dad didn’t send him packing as soon as he arrived, he’d be smack dab in the middle of it all.
“So this probably isn’t the best time to bring this up.” Zach glanced over.
“What now?” Her bottom lip stuck out in a pouty frown. “I can’t handle another catastrophe.”
Zach wanted to kiss the sourpuss look off her face. He didn’t want to add to her list of problems, but as they discussed Teddy’s tux, he realized he didn’t have anything in his bag that would be appropriate to wear to a formal wedding.
“What’s the dress code for this bash you’re planning on the beach? Flip flops and cargo shorts work?” He waited for her to explode next to him. She didn’t disappoint.
“You’re joking, right? I’ve got a floor-length gold dress in my suitcase and my mom had her dress custom made.”
“Uh, I was planning on shooting a swimsuit catalog on the beach. I’ve got a couple pair of jeans. The rest of my bag is filled with shorts and T-shirts. I figure I ought to blend in?”
Reagan’s palm hit her forehead. “Crap! No, you can’t wear jeans or shorts. Do you know your measurements? Maybe they can have a tux ready for you, too.”
Measurements? Like he wore a tux often enough that he’d have his measurements memorized? “Sure, let me get that for you. I keep it on a card in my wallet.” He let out a laugh at the expectant look on her face. “Seriously? I’m joking, Reagan. I’ve never worn a tux in my life.”
“Oh my God, how could I have overlooked something like that? Forget the tux shop. Go to the airport. We’ll have to stay the night somewhere here in Miami and pick them up tomorrow. I’ll see if I can talk the guy into measuring you and giving us something that will work.”
“Don’t you have to have them altered? That’ll take a couple days, won’t it?”
Reagan executed a neck roll. “My mother’s stylist is traveling with her. She’ll be able to alter it for you.”
Zach nodded as if traveling with an entourage didn’t further illustrate the rift between her way of life and his. He flipped the turn signal and took the interchange toward the airport.
He’d envisioned the possibility of staying in touch with Reagan after the weekend. He could make sure he flew through Chicago on his way between the coasts. Maybe she could come visit him in LA or join him on one of his jobs. But it was becoming increasingly obvious that they didn’t even orbit in the same solar system. Her social calendar included dinner with the President. His weekends were filled with surfing, brew pubs, and sand volleyball.
Half an hour later, Zach slowed to a stop at the curb at the Miami International Airport. “I’ll sit here until they make me move then I’ll circle.”
Reagan put her hand on the door handle. “Thanks. I should only be a couple of minutes.”
She climbed out and jogged into the airport in the tight, stretchy pants. God, she had a great ass. As the thought entered his mind, her hands tugged at the hem of the shirt she had on, trying to pull it further down on her thighs. The glass doors opened and shut and Reagan was gone.
He pulled out his phone to make the call to Scazzoli. Who had he been trying to fool? He’d known from the moment he saw her. There was no way he could sell Reagan out, no matter how much the scumbag offered. The phone rang once then twice.
In a voice that sounded like he smoked two packs a day, Scazzoli barked, “Talk to me, Anderson.”
“I’m out. Not gonna be able to come through on the Campbell project.”
“Oh, no, you don’t. I’ve got a very interested buyer on the line.”
“Yeah? Who’s that?” Zach asked.
“They prefer to remain anonymous.”
Zach ran his hand over his stubble. “Sorry, I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Zach didn’t answer.
“I told him you’d deliver.” Scazzoli lowered his voice to a growl. “Told him you’d never let me down before.”
Dammit. Jaw clenched, hand tight on the steering wheel, Zach matched his tone. “First time for everything, right?”
“Fuck you, Anderson. You bail on me on this, and not only will I tell the owner of that magazine conglomerate that you were the ones who took the shots of his wife, I’ll make sure you never book another fucking job.”
Zach glanced at the vacant seat next to him where Reagan had left her notebook. She’d doodled hearts and circles on the top page. Must have done that while she was on the phone. He took a closer look at the swirly heart in the corner. The initials ZA + RC were written in a curly script inside, like the girls back in junior high used to write. Trying to figure her out was like trying to do a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing. He had a certain image of what kind of girl she was in his head. But the pieces were adding up to create an entirely different picture.
Was she the uptight senator’s daughter who needed to call the shots and always remain in control? Or was there something else deep inside, like the fun-loving, risk-taker he’d seen glimpses of over the past few days? More like the girl he’d fallen for in high school than the high-powered hotel exec.
“You there?” Scazzoli asked.
“Yeah, I’m here.” Zach closed his eyes and let the vision of the shop he’d imagined flash through his mind. Goodbye golden ticket. So long place of my own.
“What’s it gonna be, Anderson? You know I’m not a man who likes to be kept waiting.”
“Sorry.”
“You piece of shit. Don’t even think about calling—”
Zach pressed “end” and lowered the phone. He took in a deep breath as he searched for Reagan through the large windows. No luck. Hopefully she hadn’t tangled with security again and gotten herself removed to a back room. At the rate she was going, she’d be blocked from all the major airports in the U.S. before the year was up. He thumbed through his emails
and sent a quick message off to his contact for the photo shoot. Several of his colleagues would kill for that job and be able to make it work, so he didn’t feel so bad about backing out. Besides, if Scazzoli did divulge the truth about Zach taking those photos, he’d probably get fired from that job anyway.
Damn, where was Reagan? What in the hell was taking so long? She’d been gone for fifteen minutes. Plenty of time to grab her bag. Just then, she stormed through the doorway, hands on her hips, her face flushed red.
She wrenched open the door and slumped into the seat. “Unfuckingbelievable!”
“What’s going on? They didn’t have your bag?”
Her hand swiped at her cheek. She slid her sunglasses down from their perch on top of her head to cover her eyes. “No! They sent it to Louisville. Can you believe it? I talked to them how many times? You heard me, didn’t you? I told them I’d pick my bag up here, in Miami, today.”
“But it’s in Louisville?” Zach was almost afraid to ask. He didn’t want to get her any more agitated.
“Yes, Louisville. The only good news is that now my bag and my wallet have been reunited. But what good does that do me? They said they’ll have it hand-delivered to the hotel by tomorrow night. Tomorrow night! That’s the wedding. We’re already missing the rehearsal dinner. What if they’re late, huh? I can’t show up in this.” She gestured to the opaque yoga pants and dri-weave shirt he’d bought her.
As he was about to respond, an airport officer tapped on his window and gestured him to move along. Zach nodded and put the car in gear. “So, where to, cupcake?”
She gave him a long look then twisted to reach into the back seat and grab the pink box. “Cupcake. Now that’s the best idea you’ve had all day. I don’t know why I even bothered. They won’t be good by tomorrow anyway.” Reagan reached into the box and crammed half of a chocolate raspberry cake into her mouth. With her cheeks full, she said something that sounded like, “Take your pick.”
The officer tapped on the window again. Zach waved then signaled to pull out into traffic. “You really want to stay in Miami tonight?”
“We don’t have a choice. I might not have my stuff, but I’ll be damned if Teddy doesn’t get his tux.”
She offered him a bite of chocolate, which he gladly took, running his tongue over her fingers to lick up every bit of frosting. Then she shoved the rest into her mouth and crossed her arms over her stomach.
“Any preference on accommodations?”
Reagan shrugged. “If I didn’t look like such a freak show I’d check us in to one of my company’s hotels. But there’s no way I’m walking into one of our buildings looking like this. They’d never take direction from me again. All the planning, all the hours I spent making sure everything would be just right, all ruined because I wouldn’t get on a stupid airplane. I’ve got to get over it. Know anyone with a hot air balloon or a sea plane?”
Zach merged onto the highway leading out of the airport and headed east toward the beach. Reagan’s rant had given him an idea. “How about the next best thing?”
“I changed my mind. Forget it,” Reagan said, clutching Zach’s arm, digging her nails into his biceps.
She’d meant it at the time, but she hadn’t expected Zach to act so quickly in helping her get over her fear of flying. How was she to know that he had a buddy who ran parasailing outings from Miami Beach?
After her rant about how her stupid paranoia was ruining the wedding and limiting her life experiences, he drove them to an off-the-beaten path bed and breakfast. The sign advertised it as boutique lodging, but it looked like a tiny Caribbean beach shack with its teal paint job and beachy decor. He left her there to get settled, as if she had anything to settle, and came back twenty minutes later with a barely-there bikini, flimsy cover-up, a pair of rubber flip flops, and a beach towel. Then he gave her five minutes to change and meet him at the car.
Reagan tugged at the string bikini bottoms as Zach’s friend pulled her harness tight. Zach had promised her the best mojito of her life if she’d run an errand with him first. Errand, ha! He was trying to kill her. What kind of sane person allowed herself to be dragged behind a boat while flying a mile high in the air?
So the mile part might be an exaggeration. But she may as well be on her way to the moon based on how her stomach tossed and turned. That cupcake hadn’t been a good idea.
“You’re all set,” Brody said. Zach had introduced him as a friend from college. The tall blond looked every bit the beach bum surfer dude. Girls probably hadn’t stood a chance when the two of them went barhopping together.
Brody went over the instructions multiple times, but Reagan kept zoning out, convinced she’d become shark food or the cord would snap and they’d fly over Miami Beach and crash land into the marina or one of the high-rise hotels. Zach held her hand, murmured soothing words, and told her she could do it, that she had to if she truly wanted to conquer her fears. He had been so convincing. Life jacket in place, harness wrapped around her thighs, clipped onto a giant rainbow parachute with a dolphin on it, she wanted to punch him.
“Ready to conquer your fear?” Zach grinned beside her.
She imagined this was probably one of the tamer thrill-seeking adventures he’d done. Goody for him. But she didn’t belong here. Her short visit with Zach’s kind of crazy had been nice, but she preferred safety over an adrenaline rush, staying intact versus broken bones.
Fuzzy grayness blurred the edges of her vision. How had she let him talk her into taking it this far? Her lungs seized and struggled to take in a breath. The life jacket was too tight; her chest couldn’t expand.
“Zach, I—” she wheezed.
His hand cupped her chin, and he lifted her gaze to his. “Do you trust me?”
A calm, peacefulness descended as she gazed into his deep, golden brown eyes. He smiled and tiny crinkles appeared in the corners. With one look, he offered encouragement, caring, kindness. He knew she could do this and that gave her courage. She didn’t want to disappoint him. Without taking her eyes off him, she gave Brody the thumbs-up, signaling she was ready to go. Zach’s hand slipped from her chin and covered hers. His strength and confidence flowed through their linked fingers.
Her stomach dipped as her feet lifted off the back of the boat and the wind carried them up into the air. Not wanting to witness their ascent, she closed her eyes tight.
Zach whooped and hollered beside her. “Reagan, look! It’s amazing. You can see for miles. Open your eyes, babe.”
It was the “babe” that did it. Barely cracking her eyelid, she peered through her lashes. As she squinted against the setting sun, she tried to orient herself. Brody said they’d be about four-hundred-and-fifty feet up. Her gaze traveled down the cord that kept them secured to the boat, and she gasped. The boat looked like one of those motorized toy boats of Teddy’s that she had played with on a pond by their childhood home.
Zach squeezed her hand. “How’re you doing?”
“I want to throw up.”
“If you do, please turn that way,” he said, laughing and nudging his chin to her other side. “Look at you. You’re doing it. You’re flying.”
Reagan mentally pinched together the wings of the angry butterflies that beat against the walls of her stomach and opened her eyes a bit further. Zach was right. Her toes dangled beneath her, hundreds of feet over the brilliant blue ocean. She tightened her grip on his hand. “Look over there. Is that a stingray?”
He followed her gaze. “Yep. Good eye. See that patch of teal over there?”
She scanned the coast, spotting a bright bluish-green patch set among variegated shades of green vegetation. “Yeah.”
“That’s where we’re staying.” He pointed down the beach toward a giant stage. “And over there they’re setting up for a huge spring break concert.”
Reagan let her gaze wander over the ocean, soaking in the spectacular three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view. Every time the line tugged or the parachute sagged, her heart took a
nosedive into her stomach. But after several minutes she felt comfortable enough to loosen her grip on Zach’s hand and enjoy the feel of the salty ocean breeze as it flowed over her exposed skin.
After what seemed like both an eternity and somehow not nearly long enough, Brody signaled that he was reeling them in. The boat grew larger as they descended. Reagan was looking forward to touching her feet down on something solid, but also disappointed to have her time come to an end.
She’d felt so insulated with Zach as they floated above Miami. No one could touch her there. Not her father, not the press, not another vendor asking about details for the wedding. She wished she could freeze time and stay suspended with Zach. Her feet dipped into the ocean as they neared the boat, sending a salty spray up and over their bodies.
All too soon, it was over. Back on the boat, Brody unhooked them and handed her a towel.
“What did you think?” he asked.
Shivering from the wind, Reagan clasped the towel around her. “It was incredible. I can’t believe I did it.”
Zach’s arm clamped around her shoulder. “You did. I knew you could. I won’t even tell you I told you so.”
He kissed her temple. She snuggled against his broad chest, using him to block the wind. “I believe you owe me a drink.”
They settled on a bench seat as Brody secured the parachute and prepared to take them back to the dock.
“It’s the least I can do. Do you want to go back and shower first or change at the marina office and grab something while we’re already out?” Zach asked.
Reagan shrugged. “It’s not like I have any other clothes options. I’ll just throw on my cover-up and we can get something before we turn in.”
“Have I told you how much I like your swimsuit?”
She swatted at his exposed chest. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. You’re crazy, Zach. Certifiably insane.”
He burrowed his nose into her hair and nibbled her earlobe, sending a jolt of heat between her thighs. “Crazy for you, cupcake. Certifiably crazy for you.”