Page 59 of Harrison Hyde and the Runaway Bride

“Thanks.” He wiped his fingers. She wiped hers. She put the packet back into her bag and came out with something else.

“Mint?” she asked

“Sure.” He accepted the wintergreen Life Saver she pressed from the pack into his hand. She popped one as well. They settled back and watched the movie until his mint had dissolved to nothing in his mouth.

And then she got out of her chair and came to his. She sat on his lap, facing him, one leg on either side. “There’s nothing we can do to help until we get there.”

“I kn-know.”

She pressed her palms to his cheeks and kissed him. Oh, man, how she kissed him. And before his brain finishedprocessing the surprise of it and what to do about it, his body was already fully involved. His arms wrapped around her waist and his mouth joined them in the mutiny.

She sat up a little and said, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, I thought you said not until I decided to stay.”

“Yeah. I did say that. But now I’m kind of afraid you’re never gonna decide it, and I’ll have missed my one and only chance to be with you.” And then she pulled her blouse off over her head, and there were a pair of perfect boobs in a pretty pink bra in front of his face.

“Uh-huh.” He put his hands on them, bra and all.

She arched her back a little, pressing closer. She said something else, but his brain’s language centers were no longer functioning. He pulled her closer and kissed her again. They undressed each other, trying not to part their bodies while they did so, mashing them back together immediately if they had to separate at all. And then they were skin against skin, and he was in heaven, and trying to go slow and savor every second. His forearm supported the curve of her back while he threaded his fingers through her glorious copper curls.

She was everything, his entire world in those moments. Every other thought was banished from his mind, and there was only her, her brown eyes, her soft lips, her warm skin, the sounds of her breaths, the pulse in her neck thrumming faster as he nibbled there. She moved with him, over him, taking him into her, and moaning when she did, and he wouldn’t have known or cared if the plane had crashed. They moved together in wordless synchronicity. She lifted her mouth from his to look into his eyes as sensation crashed through her, and then she snapped her arms around him and held tight. He responded in kind, and he swore it felt, in those moments, as if they’d melded entirely.

Maria put herself back together in the restroom and got stuck in the mirror. Her eyes were round and full of something new. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was big. It was huge.

She knew, as she’d never known before, that Harry Hyde was meant for her. He was her other half. The one. This wasn’t rebound from her failed wedding; this was the real deal. That hadn’t even been close.

How had her family seen so clearly something entirely invisible to her? Billy Bob had never been the one. As Harry had told her, that never would have or could have worked.

Because it was Harry. It would always be Harry. She just had to be patient long enough for him to realize it, too.

When she returned, Harry had lowered the TV volume— at some point, he’d cranked it up to cover the sounds of their lovemaking. Hers, anyway. She’d really tried to be quiet, but…

She smoothed her blouse, returned to her seat.

“Touchdown in twenty minutes,” the pilot said from a speaker nearby.

The hatch lowered, built-in steps gliding into place. Harrison looked out. There was a runway, a rolling meadow, and a man standing between two cars with his hands folded in front of him.

The pilot, who had opened the cockpit partition said, “That’s your rental car. That fellow will have your keys. Mr. Brand arranged it.”

Harrison didn’t bother asking which Mr. Brand. Maria could tell him who to thank later. Thinking of her, he turned. She was hauling her bag out of the little compartment in the back, where she’d stowed it. It was a big, soft-sided suitcase. He reached for it as she got close, and she shook her head. “You’re injured. I’ve got it,” she said. “What, you think your lovin’ made me too weak to carry my own bag?”

“Your uncles and your dad would expect me to carry your bag,” he said. They had not discussed what had happened between them. And they probably should, at some point. He didn’t want her to think he’d taken it lightly. He didn’t want her to think he didn’t care. And he didn’t want her to think it had changed anything. Even though it felt like it had changed everything all the way to the cellular level.

“My uncles and my dad are not you or me,” she said.

All the same, he backed up to let her exit first, grabbing his own bag before he followed her down to the pavement. He came up beside her as they walked toward the two cars. They were both the same hybrid model, one green, one black.

The man in between said, “Mr. Hyde, Miss Brand,” and offered a key to Harrison.

“Which one?” he asked.

The fellow nodded at the black car. Harrison looked at the key fob, popped the trunk, took Maria’s bag and put them both in. When he closed the trunk, Harrison said, “Makes sense for me to drive. I know my way around.”

The pilot got into the other car with the other dude, and they were already pulling away.

Maria said, “But is your shoulder up to it?”

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