by Lia London
“No kidding. And anything you guessed was probably dead accurate. He confessed as much to me.”
“Ew.”
“Double-her-age ew.” Parker tapped the driver’s shoulder. “You heard of Whiteman Airport?”
“Yeah.”
“Get me there, stat.”
He squinted at her reflection in the rearview mirror. “But lady, you said—”
“You said I was crazy,” she retorted. “Drive. I’ll tip you well.”
“But you turned down a huge contract. You have money?”
“I still received my bonus. For the love of airbags, drive faster!” She turned her attention back to the phone. “Guy, are you okay?”
“Are you coming?”
“How fast can you get us there?” asked Parker, pounding on the back of the driver’s seat.
“Us?”
“Me. You.”
“You having a baby or something?”
Parker smacked her forehead. “Do I look like I’m ready to pop a kid?”
“Or a vein,” muttered the driver.
“How long?!”
“An hour, maybe more.”
“Get me there in 45 minutes, and I’ll give you an extra $100.”
“Yes ma’am!” The driver changed lanes and sped up.
Parker gripped the phone tighter. “Guy, you still with me?”
She could hear the smile in his voice when he answered, “I will be soon.”
For the remaining thirty-eight minutes it took her to arrive at Whiteman Airport in the outlying area of Pacoima, Parker called to cancel her flight to Seattle and the rental car she had planned to drive from Seattle to Anacortes. She wouldn’t be taking the dawn ferry over to Orcas, either.
When she got out of the taxi, she tipped the driver $200. “Be true to yourself. That’s my tip. The cash is to help you on the way.”
He looked over his shoulder at her with wide eyes. “Wow, ma’am. Thanks! Am I supposed to recognize you? Are you famous?”
She chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. “I probably could be, but I don’t think it’s what I should be.” She thumped the roof of the car. “Thanks again. Happy Thanksgiving!”
He flicked the meter with his finger. “I will now, lady. Thanks.”
Confident she looked much better than when she last saw Guy, she scanned the barren parking lot for the VW van before remembering he had flown. She frowned and adjusted the backpack draped over one shoulder. The place wasn’t big, but she hadn’t exactly worn walking shoes to go in search of him. In the blackness of the wee small hours, she suddenly felt very alone and bewildered.
“Miss Daisy?”
A bark sounded to her left, and she turned towards it to see Guy and Booster standing under a street lamp in a grassy patch beside the terminal.
A rush of joy propelled her into Guy’s welcoming arms. “It’s so good to see you again!”
He held her tightly, saying nothing.
“You okay?” she whispered.
“Hold me a minute. I’ll be all right.”
“Gladly. I’ve got all night.” She caressed the back of his head with her fingers, enjoying the thick, soft feel of his hair. Tilting his face so she could meet his gaze, she smiled. “Hey, you. That was mighty brave.”
“You rode a small plane all the way to L.A.”
“And apparently, I’m riding one back, unless we’re staying in town.” She brushed her thumbs over his cheeks. “You can, you know. We don’t have to do anything fancy.”
The nature of his embrace changed as he snuggled closer. “Hence your high heels and make-up?”
“You noticed.” She beamed up at him. Though travel-weary and unkempt, he’d never been more attractive. “You came to the big city.”
“Sort of. And it’s the middle of the night.”
“Don’t undermine your own success by not recognizing it.”
“I couldn’t wait to see you.” In the stillness, his whisper soared straight into her heart. “I guess I finally have motivation to take some bigger steps.”
“Me, too. Steps off the beaten path.” She leaned in, letting their cheeks rest against each other. “Are we completely crazy?”
“Probably.” He combed his fingers through her hair in a gentle caress.
“How’d I get so lucky for you to want me?”
His eyes rested on her, skimming slowly back and forth as if studying each contour. “You like maple bars and can eat half of one in a single bite. Your rode up Mt. Constitution like a beast. You stepped in dog poop and had a sense of humor about it. You’re smart. You’re funny. You have an abiding affection for peanut butter which I haven’t quite figured out yet. You have an adventurous spirit. You love my music and my art.” He stopped and sucked in a breath. “Add the fact that my whole being comes alive when you kiss me…” He shook his head. “I just don’t want to say good-bye to that … ever.”
Parker felt her mouth hanging open, but she couldn’t move more than to blink. Without reference to any of the things on her resume, he had made her feel exceptional. “This is the part of the scene where the hero says, ‘I love you.’”
“That won’t scare you away?”
She shook her head, smiling. “I’ve already booked my stay at the cabin. You’re stuck with me for an extended getaway while we figure out what’s next.”
“Then yes, Daisy Parker. I love you. With or without a script.” His eyes shone under the lamp light. “Will you let me prove it to you?”
“I take back everything I ever said about your improv skills. You just rocked that line.” She giggled, brushing her cheeks against his and snuggling closer. “And I love you, too. It makes no sense, but I do.”
Guy drew a deep breath and looked deep into her eyes. “You’re the director. Tell me how this scene goes.”
“The handsome prince kisses the sleeping princess and wakes her from the nightmare she thought was reality, and they fly off into the sunrise.”
His soft laugh tickled her, and then his kiss overtook all her senses. Passion and peace, desire and hope filled her, and as the kiss deepened, she bid farewell to the stressed-out Parker of the past. Each tender touch of his lips or caress of his fingertips assured her that she could take the time to be herself and be truly loved.
She breathed in the happiness of being in his arms. “Fly us back to the island fast. And make sure your mic is turned off or the tower will get a very interesting earful.”
“Oh?” He reached down, playfully capturing her earlobe between his lips.
Parker gurgled with surprise. “Don’t start anything now or we’ll never get off the ground.”
“What are you talking about?” He took her hand and led her towards the plane. “I’m already flying.”
Northwest Locations Mentioned in Getaway Gone Wrong
Although the events in this story are fictitious, the places are real. Orcas Island in the San Juan Island chain is one of my favorite vacation destinations on the planet. Let me give you a run-down of a few of the must-see sites mentioned in the story.
Friday Harbor ~ This is on San Juan Island itself. It’s the largest town in the islands and full of picturesque views, yummy restaurants, quaint hotels, and shopping.
Lime Kiln Point State Park ~ This state park has a charming little light house, a seasonal interpretive center, and front row seats for viewing whales. Pods of orcas live in the area year-round and really do go drifting by on a predictable schedule every day. I was amazed to see people kayaking out there with them!
Mt. Constitution ~ This peak is about half a mile up with a gorgeous forested road winding back and forth to the top. Cyclists are common, and the ride to the top is a grueling challenge. I’m proud to say that my husband and son both made it to the top without putting their foot down to rest even once. My son, like Parker, had a little trouble on the way back down!
Moran State Park ~ This stunning acreage was donated to the State of Washington by Mr. Moran in part because he di
dn’t want his children fighting over the land, and in part because he loved natural beauty and wanted it preserved for the common people to enjoy. It’s the fourth largest state park in Washington, and it features many miles of hiking trails and several lakes for fishing, swimming, and boating.
North Beach Inn ~ Though never named in the novel, this is where we stay every time we go to Orcas Island. It’s a fantastically restful location with cozy cottages and scenery that will lower your blood pressure within the first hour. It’s glorious! I would totally live there year-round if I could. (And we’ve never had a problem with a water heater there. That was completely fictitious.)
Rosario Mansion & Resort ~ This is my daughter’s favorite place to be. The architecture is fascinating, the ghost stories are entertaining, the recital given by Christopher Peacock is brilliant, and the amenities are top-notch. The museum portion is open to the public for free, and the setting makes it a luxurious outing even if you don’t take in the spa or fine dining options.
Amaya’s Dance
Chapter 1 ~ “Is That a Problem?”
“I’m telling you, Amaya, pharmacists make crazy, huge amounts of money. You missed the boat on this one!”
Amaya ground her teeth and shoved her hip against the make-shift barre made of industrial pipes. It scraped across the concrete floor a few inches. “Thank you, Charlene. It’s not as if I had a choice in the matter. Milo proposed to Jill.”
“But you’re an ebony goddess.” Charlene waved her arms in wide circles at Amaya. “And he dated you.” She tugged the other end of the barre into place with a grunt.
“A couple of times.” Amaya expelled breath. “Dating isn’t the same thing as loving.” Though physically tired after teaching the teen dance class, the topic of her failed love life wearied her more. “I don’t know why I mentioned it. Can’t we drop it? Jill was his first love. It was a done deal.”
“Oh, well that’s your problem. You can’t compete with a first love.” Charlene reached behind the metal storage cabinet and turned off the sound system wired through the back of the cabinet. “You didn’t stand a chance.”
“Thank you.” With a sardonic smile, Amaya curtsied and then rummaged for the clipboard with the class list to mark attendance. “You’re such a help.”
“I know. You never could have taught the partner sequence without me today.” Charlene stuck her tongue out, deliberately pretending she misunderstood.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“No, seriously.” Charlene never seemed to know when to let a subject drop. “No matter how amazing you are, you can’t compete with a first love.” She disconnected the thumb drive from the stereo system and handed it to Amaya, who slipped it in her backpack.
Amaya rolled her eyes. “Well then I guess I have to find some guy who’s never been in love before, so I can train him up to love me right.”
“Good luck with that. Guys fall in love every time a pretty girl looks at them. Men our age have fallen at least a hundred times.”
“You’re doing so much to boost my confidence.” Amaya pulled a pair of gray sweats over her tights. “What about all those other guys who passed me over for women who weren’t their first love?”
“Maybe you’re too bossy?”
Amaya threw an imaginary object at Charlene. “Oh, thanks for that. I’m not so bad.”
Charlene pursed her lips with a suppressed smile. “You’re … strong.”
“I can carry your sorry self across the floor and back,” agreed Amaya with a wink.
“You know what I mean. I wonder if guys are intimidated?”
Amaya let out a guttural yell. “Girl, do you have any idea how hard I try to make everyone feel comfortable and validated? It’s like a life mission of mine.”
Charlene’s head bobbed in agreement as she spoke. “Yes, yes. True, true. And some people don’t want to be comfortable, so your efforts freak them out and scare them away.”
“Then why’d they ask me out in the first place?” challenged Amaya, pointing her finger accusingly.
“Have you seen yourself in the mirror, Amaya? Duh. You’re gorgeous.”
Amaya paced out to the middle of the dance floor to examine her reflection in the wall of mirrors. In sweats and a baggy t-shirt, nothing about her body could possibly overwhelm a man’s desire. She harrumphed and jerked herself into a double pirouette, kicking high above her head before landing in an angular, jazzy pose. After studying her reflection in this position for a second, she shrugged. The lack of voluptuous curves definitely made the dance moves look crisper. She nodded with satisfaction and turned back to see Charlene watching her with folded arms. “What?”
Charlene dropped her hands to her side. “If they could just watch you dance.”
Amaya smirked. That was probably the root of the problem right there. She had dedicated herself so much to her craft that she brought nothing else to a relationship. Guys wanted someone they could relate to, and the young men she met in her neighborhood were into sports, or gaming, or having sex all the time. She was a misfit with nothing to offer the men she’d known.
Except maybe Milo. A little. But even he hadn’t been a performer, just supportive of her dancing.
“You went to his wedding,” scolded Charlene, cramming her leg into a pair of faded jeans. “Why would you do that?”
Amaya wondered how Charlene knew her thoughts had returned to Milo. “Duh. They invited me. Try to remember I know both of them.” Amaya leaned against the bar, lifting a leg up to it for a good stretch. “It’s hard to explain,” she said with a sigh. “But Milo and Jill were on Team Northwest of Who Wants to Be a Soap Star with me, and…” She shrugged, reaching to untie her jazz dance shoes. “It’s as if we’re old army buddies, or something.”
Charlene shook her head, retying her long, bleached hair into a tight knot. “Cast romances never work. You know that.”
“It wasn’t a cast romance,” said Amaya. “Not between them, anyway. Milo and Jill knew each other their whole lives.” She tossed her shoes onto the shelf beside her ballet slippers and character shoes with taps. “I never stood a chance of being more than second choice.”
With a pout, Charlene pulled a pink hoodie over her black leotard. “You shouldn’t have to be second to anyone, Amaya. You’re the best.”
Amaya smiled at Charlene, her best friend, roomie, and frequent instructional assistant. Charlene was the best. “If it wasn’t for Jill and her dad’s real estate connections, we never would have landed this studio for the east side. She’s not the enemy.”
Charlene folded her arms. “She gets the hot, soon-to-be rich husband, and you get the drafty old dance studio.”
“Milo isn’t hot. He’s sweet.”
“Still not a fair trade.”
“It is to me,” said Amaya. She looked around the cavernous room. A row of metal chairs flanked the wall to her right, giant mirrors filled the far wall, and rolling cubicle partitions created a small office space to the left by the bathroom. Though not a glorious facility, it beat an empty warehouse. Her dream of teaching poor city kids came true, and she couldn’t be happier at how things had turned out. But she acknowledged Charlene’s point. Winter classes had been chilly. “If watching parents get too cold, they can join us on the dance floor.”
“They won’t be able to get up with their butts frozen to the seats.”
“It’s getting warmer. In summer we’ll be missing this.”
Charlene grunted. “And all this work for only seven or eight kids a class.”
Amaya raised a warning finger at her. “Nuh-uh. Keep it in perspective. Those lucky kids. They get more one-on-one instruction than anybody. A piece of me will be sad when the program gets bigger and the classes fill up.”
Charlene nodded. “You do get those kids doing amazing stuff.”
Amaya sagged, smiling at her best friend’s terrible efforts to cheer her up after the weekend. She wrapped her arm around Charlene’s shoulder. “It was a beautif
ul wedding. I wanted to be there supporting my friends and seeing some of the other Team members, too. It was a mini-reunion.”
“Five months. Big landmark.” Charlene circled a finger in the air.
“Oh, shut up, Charlene. You’re not helping.” Amaya took a pick to her black curls, taming the unruliest ones back from her face. The wedding had been a happy event, and sadness only crept in when she found out Antonio, Chieko, and even Parker, their crabby director, had all found significant others to bring. Although Amaya never struggled to attract men with her smooth, chocolatey skin, dazzling smile, and lean dancer’s body, they never seemed to choose her in the end. She’d never been anyone’s first choice.
Retrieving her backpack from the cabinet, she dug out her keys. “It’s okay, Charlene. I don’t have time for dating right now, anyway. Jenelle’s scheduled me at rehearsals four nights a week, learning all of Sandra’s pieces.”
Charlene shook her head sympathetically. “There you are again, in second place. Understudy to Sandra, who’s not as good as you are.”
Amaya chewed her lips to stop a proud grin from spreading. “She’s been in the company for five years. I just started in the fall.” She slipped her feet into a pair of canvas flats, avoiding her reflection in the wall of mirrors across the room. Frumpiness always followed three hours of sweating with her students through grueling routines.
“You shouldn’t be second place,” muttered Charlene.
“Out.” Amaya ushered her friend outside, shivering in the brisk spring evening. “Hurry up. I left my coat in the car, and I’m freezing.” She turned to work the key into the lock.
Charlene made a hiccupping sound. “Oh! Wait, I left my phone inside. Hang on.”
Amaya groaned and rested her forehead on the open door while Charlene dashed back inside. “Hit the lights, too.” She shook her head. Between the two of them, they could forget or lose an entire household on a bad week. “How have we survived adulthood this long?” She chuckled.