She was leaving.
He was out of bed in a second. He didn’t have a clue what he was going to say to her, but he raced through the cabin anyway. It was a new day, and he’d at least take another stab at convincing her. At apologizing.
Apologizing?
He pushed the word and its ramifications from his mind, telling himself firmly that he had nothing to apologize for. They just needed to talk. To work it out.
But that was a lie.
He did owe her an apology. Hell, he owed himself one.
He just hoped it wasn’t too late.
But when he pulled open the door, it wasn’t Cleo he saw in the driveway but Guy Brown, the mechanic with whom he’d left his car. The very same Toyota that was now sitting in the driveway.
She was gone. He’d lost her.
“I decided to head down to Reno,” Guy said. “Thought I’d drop your car off.”
“Thanks,” Josh said, still numb.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” He took the keys that Guy held out. “No, I’m not. I’m not fine at all. I just made the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Huh? The car?”
“Not the car. And I didn’t just make this mistake. I’ve been making it for five years. Dammit.”
Guy cocked his head, looking at him the way folks stare at people in grocery lines who talk to themselves. “You need anything?”
Josh held up the keys. “All I need is to hurry.”
He said thanks to Guy and told him to mail him the bill, making sure the mechanic had a ride before he dashed inside to grab his wallet and cell phone. He didn’t have any idea what time the first flight left Reno for Washington, but he didn’t care. If he didn’t meet her in the airport, he’d follow her to D.C. Whatever it took, he was going to catch her and they were going to talk.
And he knew exactly what he was going to say.
First, though, he had someone else he had to talk to. And even though he knew it was going to be hard as hell, as he drove away from the cabin, he put on his headphones and punched speed dial on his phone.
EASTERN AIR FLIGHT 187 leveled out, and the pilot turned off the Fasten Seat Belt sign.
Cleo kept her buckle on and her hands tight on the armrest. The man in the seat next to her looked down at her hands and white knuckles and smiled gently. “Nervous flier?”
“What? Oh.” She forced herself to relax. “Just jumpy today. Don’t worry. I won’t scream and grab your hand at the slightest bump.”
The man laughed and smiled, starting to look a bit too flirty for Cleo’s tastes. She pulled out a magazine from the seat-back pocket and pretended to read. A few minutes later, her seatmate stood up and headed for the lavatory. Cleo put the magazine down—she hadn’t read a word—and leaned her head back, her eyes closed.
She tried to keep her mind from whirling, but somehow she couldn’t manage it. All she could do was wish that things were different, but unfortunately, life wasn’t a fairy tale.
Her seat shifted, and she realized her companion had returned. She kept her eyes closed, hoping he’d think she was asleep.
Then she felt his hand close over hers. Honestly. The nerve of some people.
She yanked her hand back and opened her eyes— And found herself face-to-face with a smiling Josh.
“I switched seats with the guy who was here,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“How—?”
“I drove really fast,” he said. “And your plane was delayed. That helped.”
“But—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “I was wondering if that consultant gig is still open,” he said, the corner of his mouth tugging up as he fought a smile. “Because I might be in need of a job.”
She felt tingly, like champagne, but she squelched the feeling. This seemed wonderful, but if she was wrong, she didn’t want to be disappointed. “Why?” she asked simply. “What happened to the job you have?”
“I spoke to my mom this morning. Told her that the board either had to approve my expansion plans—as proposed—or they’d be looking for a new president and CEO.”
“Josh.” She took his hands in hers. “Are you serious?”
“You were right,” he said. “I do love the company, and Goodson Mining has always been my dream. But my dream was to run the company my way, not be chained to it. If the board doesn’t get that—if my family doesn’t get that—then I owe it to myself to work someplace that does. It was scary as hell, but now it feels amazing. I also realized that I couldn’t use you to put a Band-Aid on my broken dreams by trying to tie you to my side. I get now that I was trying to do that. It wasn’t fair. Not to you, or to me.”
“Where will you work?”
“Anywhere I want to go. Mom and I talked for a long time. She doesn’t like it, but she understands. The board won’t vote against me.”
“What exactly does she understand?”
“That I love my work. That I love my plans, and I have the skills and the confidence to make them happen. That I love her. That I love the company. And,” he added, pressing a kiss to her fingertips and then slipping the pocket watch into her hand, “that I love you.”
“Josh,” she began, but she barely got his name out. She leaned over and took his mouth in hers, pulling him close and kissing him hard. The kiss lasted forever, and when she pulled away, he was smiling as broadly as she was. “I guess you were right,” she said. “That cabin was made for romance.”
“I’m glad you think so,” he said. “Because I made one other call before I got on the plane.”
“To whom?”
“Ken and Jillian. I reserved the cabin for next New Year’s Eve. If that’s okay with you.”
She lifted the armrest that divided their seats and snuggled in close to the man she loved—the only man she’d ever truly loved. “Yeah,” she said. “I think that’s definitely a date we’ll keep.” She tilted her head and looked up at him, clutching the watch. “Happy New Year, Josh, forever.”
“Happy New Year, Cleo.” And the kiss he gave her promised many more to come.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-8263-6
HOLIDAY HIDEOUT
Copyright © 2011 by Harlequin Books S.A.
The publisher acknowledges the
copyright holders of the individual works
as follows:
THE THANKSGIVING FIX
Copyright © 2011 by Vicki Lewis Thompson
THE CHRISTMAS SET-UP
Copyright © 2011 by Jill Shalvis
THE NEW YEAR’S DEAL
Copyright © 2011 by Julie Kenner
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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