by Taylor Hart
Her heart sank. "Why?"
She gestured to the large gift basket on her vanity. “That was delivered from him yesterday. He has to catch a flight this afternoon."
Sara inspected the gift basket.
Genova stomped her foot. "Tell me what you're thinking."
Sara fingered the wrap around the basket. “Do you know what time he leaves?”
Genova rolled her eyes. “I think it’s soon.”
Sara whipped out her phone. "I gotta go.”
“Why don’t you just call him?” Genova followed after her.
Sara picked up her purse and gave Gen a hug. “I’ll be back for the wedding.”
Sara scrolled through departures on her phone. She had to do this. She had to see him.
Genova pushed her out of the room. “Then go! And get back soon!”
Denver International airport was crowded. Sara thought it was amusing when she’d flown in yesterday that the large, white circus-looking tents were used as a permanent structure for keeping snow off of the buildings. But the rapid snow falling made the tents look like something out of an Alaskan survival movie.
Sara parked and fumbled out of the car. Everything spilled from her purse. “Crap.”
“Do you need some help?”
Her heart stopped. She looked up. A man in a business suit leaned down to help her.
“No. Thank you.” She pushed it all back in and took off at breakneck speed into the airport. She surveyed the departures. Johanesburg, terminal C gate 12. She ran to go through the security check station.
“You have to have a ticket.” The dark-headed man pointed to a sign. “The policy is stated right here and if you didn’t notice the automated voice, it is repeating it over and over.”
Sara knew this, but she couldn’t afford a ticket. “Look, I know it’s dramatic, but the guy that I love is going to board a plane to Africa in less than fifteen minutes and I can’t afford a ticket to Africa.”
The security guy frowned but leaned forward and whispered, “Ms. you don’t need a ticket to Africa, you just need a ticket to get through security.” He waved her away. “Now run back to the ticket counter and ask for the cheapest ticket.”
Sara clambered for the ticket counter. People were everywhere. The lines were three and four rows. She turned to the guy next to her. “What is happening?”
He pulled his eyes from the paperback he was reading and frowned. “It’s an airport.”
He said it like she was stupid.
She sighed. “I mean, why is there so many people waiting?”
The guy shrugged and gestured to the floor to ceiling window with his book. “The snow. A lot of flights are cancelled.”
Sara rubbed her forehead. “I need to purchase a ticket now.” She felt the anxiety burning inside of her chest.
The guy rolled his eyes and went back to his book. “Why don’t you head to customer service, the line is shorter.”
Sara bolted for customer service. “Thank you,” she said over her shoulder.
The line was shorter. A short man with a brown mustache yelled at one of the service people. “I can’t miss my connection. My wife will kill me, it’s our anniversary.”
The lady, with a tight bun and tired eyes, smiled flatly. “I’m sorry, sir. That flight is cancelled. The storm is coming from the north and flights from Canada aren’t taking off right now.”
The man pounded his fist on the counter.
“Next in line, please.” The bun lady turned to the next customer, clearly excusing the man.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and rolled his bag next to a few seats against the wall. He slumped into one of the seats.
Sara felt bad for him. His anniversary.
“Next.” The bun lady excused another victim, who turned away rather upset-looking, too.
“Next.”
Her heart pounded and she felt like she could hardly speak. “I need your cheapest ticket.”
“To where?”
“Anywhere.”
The lady pushed her gold-framed glasses down on her nose. “You have to know where you’re going.”
“I don’t know where I’m going . . . I mean . . . I don’t know. I just need to talk to someone that is leaving and I need a ticket to get through security.”
The moment it was out of her mouth she knew it sounded slightly stalkerish.
Bun lady raised one eyebrow. “Really?”
Sara envisioned her pushing a panic button under the counter that would send airport security descending upon her like vultures to prey.
“Look. I l-love this guy who is leaving for Africa. And I just want to tell him how I feel.”
“Why don’t you just call him?” The lady’s voice was louder now, laced with irritation.
Sara felt her cheeks redden. “There are some things that can’t be said over a phone call.”
Her nostrils grew to a larger size. She clicked the buttons on the computer. “This late the cheapest flight is one-hundred and fifty dollars."
Sara tugged at her duffel bag. She didn’t have that much in her account. “Can I have you help me activate a credit card?” She mentally kicked herself for not ever doing this before.
Her mouth went into an even thinner line. “I’m not here to help you with your financial needs. I am here to help customers buy tickets.” The lady took a breath and Sara realized that she was in for one of those lengthy speeches that this lady clearly wanted to give to someone. Probably years of discontent with her job was about to come out all over Sara.
The mustached man from a few minutes ago stepped in front of Sara. “I want to transfer my ticket to this girl.”
Stunned, Sara didn’t know what to say. Her eyes fluttered to hold back the tears.
“Why would you do that?” The bun lady was clearly displeased at being cut off.
His eyes crinkled into a smile. “Because someone should have the opportunity to tell the person they love—that they love them—in person.”
She hugged him. “Thank you.”
The short man laughed. “You’re welcome.”
“Well.” The bun lady exhaled dramatically and pushed her glasses back. Her fingers flew across the keyboard. “Let’s get your ticket.”
Chapter 44
Sara ran from the security checkpoint, carrying her shoes in her hands. She bolted down terminal C like a track star at the last winning race of the season. Nothing else mattered at this last race. All other races before right now meant nothing.
Worry entered her mind. What if he didn’t want to talk to her? What if he missed his flight to talk to her and he didn’t care about anything she told him?
She pulled out her phone and pressed Beau’s number. At least this way she could find out if he even wanted to see her. It rang four times and went to his voicemail. She hung up, sweat ran down her back. Maybe she should walk away? Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea.
She could see gate twelve. Right or not she was in this. She ran harder. She muttered a prayer that if this was right—it would work out.
She hopped on a walking escalator and pushed herself through the standing people. “Excuse me. Excuse me.”
“Watch yourself,” an older gentleman called out to her. “You’re going to hurt someone.”
“Sorry.” Sara gave him a weak smile. She leapt over a large stack of suitcases at the end of the escalator. And pain jarred into her ankle. She fell to the floor.
“See.” The old man helped her up. “You’re running through here like a crazy woman.”
Sara steadied herself and held back the tears. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to find someone.” She stared up at gate 12.
To her relief, she could still walk on her ankle. She hobbled over to the lady manning the gate. “Are you still boarding for Johannesburg?”
Annoyed, the lady turned to her. “The flight to Johannesburg just got cleared for takeoff.” She looked at her computer. “You’re five minutes too late. Do you have a ticket?�
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Sara pressed her hands down on the counter and tried to alleviate the pressure from her ankle. “No. I don’t have a ticket.” Tears burned into her eyes. She’d missed him.
The lady stared at her. “Well, then how can I help you?”
Sara shook her head. The tears finally won. “No, you can’t help me.”
The annoyed lady suddenly softened. “Are you okay?”
Sara laughed sadly. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
“What can I do?” She touched Sara’s arm gently.
Sara snorted. “Unless you can stop the plane, there is nothing you can do for me.” She smiled her best fake smile. “It’s okay. I should have told him. I should have called him sooner and told him I wanted to talk to him. But,” she said and waved her hand in the air, “now he’s gone. And I’m here.” Sara pushed away from the counter. She had to find a place to sit for a while.
“What would you have told this guy, if you’d had the chance to tell him?”
No. No. No.
Butterflies thrummed into her chest.
There he was— jeans, white shirt, cowboy boots. His coat and computer bag draped over his arm. His blue eyes were red around the edges.
“I thought you were gone.”
Beau narrowed his eyes and took the sight of her in. He let out a breath. “Shouldn’t you be at a wedding?”
Sara unwillingly touched her left finger with her thumb. He was really asking, shouldn’t you be marrying Jonathon?
Her throat instantly went dry and she felt like she couldn’t talk. “Beau . . .” Knowing her eyes were red, her hair was sweaty, she held her shoes in one hand, and she could hardly walk, she gulped back emotion.
“Sara, are you okay?” He reached for her.
She stopped him. She looked up into those blue, perfect eyes. “Beau—I love you. I’ve loved you since . . .” Her mind flashed to so many scenes with him in them. “Since that day on my father's bench." She bit the emotion back and thought of that day. “I’ve tried to get you out of my head. I’ve tried to be angry with you. I’ve tried to picture you and . . . and her together.”
Beau took a step back. His eyes intent on hers.
“But when Genova told me you lied to me.” She let the words stand for a second, demanding an answer.
But Beau didn’t answer.
“I was ticked at you for lying to me.” She added as a side note but waved her hand in dismissal in the air. “But I knew you thought you were doing the gentlemanly thing. I knew you thought you were giving me to Jonathon or something because you thought I’d be better off.”
He dropped his coat and computer bag roughly to the floor and spread his hands wide in the air in question. “Why are you here, Sara? You don’t want me.” Anger steeled the edges of his words.
She blinked and couldn’t believe he wasn’t getting it. “Yes, I do.”
He grabbed her shoulders. “I’m arrogant and I usually say what’s on my mind.”
She smiled. “Maybe that’s what I like about you.”
He shook her, again. “No, you don’t. You hate that about me. In fact, you want someone predictable . . . someone that has a five-year plan. You want someone that doesn’t challenge you or question your plans for the future.”
She bit her lip. “No. I don’t.”
His eyebrows went up. “You don’t?”
Sara took a deep breath. “I’ve told you before that the best part of life is the unwritten part.” Chills ran through her and she knew that was the truth.
He stepped closer, his voice a whisper. “I’m not right for you.”
Sara smiled and felt herself blush. “If you’re not Mr. Right, then I guess the only thing I want—is Mr. Wrong.”
Beau closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. He flashed them open. “You want someone that is good. I'm not."
Any previous anger instantly disappeared. And she suddenly understood. “Yes, you are."
He didn't respond.
"I want a God-fearing man. I want a man that takes on life like he’s not afraid of anything. I want this same man to love his mother and care about her welfare. And to be concerned with people that need his help, go visit them at the hospital, take them little treats when Martha’s not watching—yeah, Larry told me about that. And I want this very same man to help me every time I ask for it.” Tears burned in her eyes. “Even when I don’t ask for it. And always stand beside me.” She could feel herself shaking with passion. “I want you, Beau. I want you no matter what your past looks like. I just want a future with you. With the good man I know you to be. And I’m willing to wait until you can accept that." She nodded forcefully. Then added, “If you want me?”
Vulnerable. Plain. Truth. That’s what she’d given him. The truth. And now, she had to see if he wanted it.
He glared at her and turned away. “This was supposed to be over.”
She threw her hands up. “Do you want me, Beau? Are you willing to take a chance on me, too? I deserve the truth.”
He flung back to face her. “The truth? You want the truth.”
Hammers drummed into her lower gut. “Yes.”
He reached for her so quickly, it almost knocked her down. He steadied her against him and then took her face gently into his hands. The kiss was soft and hard and wanting. “I think I wanted you since the day I met you in the airport. I knew you were different. I knew you were something I could never have.” He sighed. "So … good. So beautiful and fun and stubborn."
Something unspeakably warm and happy and gooey filled her. She fell into him.
He pulled her closer.
“Why didn’t you go, Beau?” She had to know his motivation for staying.
He pulled her back. “Why didn’t you marry Jonathon?”
“You,” she said simply. “Well . . . and I didn't want to."
The half-smile she loved quirked his lips, and he kissed her lightly again. “Really?"
She squeezed his arm. “I wanted you." She shoved him. "Why didn't you go to Africa?"
He pushed a strand of hair out of her face and peered into her eyes. “I wanted you.”
Her heart fluttered with happiness.
He pulled back and dropped to his knee. “So let's do this."
Shocked, she pulled back. “What?”
The side of his lip turned up. He whipped a ring box out of his coat pocket.
Sara covered her mouth. It couldn’t be. “But how?”
Beau put up his hand to silence her.
She stared down at him. Unlike the heartbreak she’d experienced when Jonathon had asked her to marry him, excitement filled her. Their life—his home, college, children. Everything, it all spread before her in one happy bubble of time. She wanted it all with him.
He opened the box and held it out to her. “Sara, will you marry me?”
Sara didn’t even care at the flow of salty tears running down her cheeks. She stared at a tiny, silver butterfly with a diamond in the center of it. Her breath went out in a soft sigh. “It’s beautiful, Beau.”
He laughed. “I’m glad you like it.”
“But when did you—”
“The Saturday after Thanksgiving, before you saw me out with Marsal.” He shrugged. “I had hoped . . .” Beau took the ring out of the box and held it in front of her hand. "I had hoped you would just bag the whole rules thing and marry me." He grinned at her.
She laughed and felt a tear on her cheek. "You did?"
“I know you are strong. And you are independent. But I will always treat you like a butterfly—fragile yet free. I will always try to be the man you want . . . as well as the man you need.” He smiled then, a huge smile that lit up his eyes. “Will you marry me, Sara Fairbanks?”
Sara sniffed and put her hand out. “Yes.”
Beau took her hand and gently slid the ring onto her finger, standing. “I love you.”
Sara pressed her lips to his, then pulled back. “I love you, too.”
Thank you for reading
Beau and Sara's story. Are you ready for the next Rules of Dating book? #2 Don't Fall for the Blind Date! Pre-Order it HERE!
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Also by Taylor Hart
Here is a list of Taylor's books, grouped by series:
The Knight Brother Romances
Flirting with your FBI Heartbreaker
Flirting with your Hollywood Heartbreaker
Flirting with your Ex Best Friend Billionaire Fake Fiance
Brady Brother Romances
The Good Groom
The No Regrets Groom
The Dancing Groom: A Sweet Beach Romance
Her Football Boss Fake Fiance
Hardman Brother's Ranch Romance:
Her Hidden Falls Anti-Hero Cowboy: A Sweet Brother's Romance
Her Hidden Falls Doctor Cowboy: A Sweet Brother's Romance
Her Hidden Falls Ex Military Cowboy: A Sweet Brother's Romance
Her Hidden Falls Bronc Riding Cowboy: A Sweet Brother's Romance
Her Hidden Falls Bodyguard Cowboy: A Sweet Brother's Romance
Kelly Brother's Bachelor Second Chance Cowboy Romance:
Her Country Star Billionaire Groom: Sweet, Christian Married by Christmas
Her Protector Billionaire Groom: KB Ranch Married by Christmas
More coming soon!
The Legendary Kent Brother Romances
The Broken Warrior
The Redeemed Groom
The Fake Fiance Groom
Her Hollywood Fake Fiance
Married by Christmas
Texas Titan Romances (I recommend this order to read them)
The Tough Love Groom
The Second Chance Groom
The Dream Groom
The Prince Charming Groom
The Good Groom (A Brady Brother’s Romance)
Navy Seal Romances
The Broken Warrior
The Found Warrior
Jackson Hole Bachelor Billionaire Romance Series (I recommend this order to read them)
The Football Groom
The Country Groom