Page 14 of The Christmas Romance Wish

I say, “I’m parked in the garage over there. Hop on.”

“Hop on what?”

I point to the cart. “Get on. I’ll give you a ride.”

“That’s probably against airport rules.”

I shrug, ignoring real and imaginary rules. I want to hear her laugh again. “It’ll be fun.”

“I’m not so sure...”

“Have you ever been to Utah?”

She shakes her head.

“In Hawaii, new arrivals typically receive flower leis. In Utah, we give our guests rides on luggage carts.”

Emmie grins and looks around to make sure the security guards aren’t watching. I sense her laugh hurtles closer.

“Come on.” I tip my head toward the cart.

As if used to being coaxed into shenanigans by her brothers, she climbs atop the bags. Holding tight, I grip the handle, then I race toward the parking garage. Her giggle is like the tinkling of bells.

After crossing the street, I push off with one foot. I place the other on the luggage cart and then ride along with her down the aisle of the parking garage toward my rig.

When we get to my Jeep Rubicon, kitted out with all the overland gear for winter, we’re both slightly out of breath and smiling.

I unlock the passenger door and hold it open for her.

“My brother has a Jeep, but last I checked it doesn’t have a roof or doors.”

“That works for warmer climates. Here, we need full protection from the elements. But I like your brother’s vehicle choice. I have one like that too.” I wink.

Emmie blinks with surprise. “Wait. It’s just you and me?”

“And the bagels. The guys are going to love you.”

Her gaze brightens as she buckles her seat belt.

I hustle to the back and stash her luggage, scolding myself for my choice of words. When I get in the driver’s side, I say, “I mean they’ll appreciate you for bringing the bagels.” Once more, I’m not sure what comes over me. Time to refocus on my breathing. It doesn’t help that she fills the cabin of the Jeep with the scent of vanilla marshmallows.

As I maneuver out of the parking garage, an airplane takes off overhead.

I ask, “How was your flight?”

“A little bumpy over the Rockies. Actually, a lot bumpy.”

“I appreciate you making the effort and putting up with the turbulence.” I regain my bearings and our conversation smooths out. I tell Emmie about the weekend workshop. “Figured it would help to finally meet in person so you could see me in action. Well, this iteration of my work. You know, to round out the book—the whole ‘show don’t tell’ concept.”

Sensing her eyes on me, I wish that I had taken the extra ten minutes to shave.

“As a writer, I know that one well.”

The thought that I like what I see floats into my mind, but I do my best to leave it behind as we get on the freeway.

As dusk settles and we leave Salt Lake City behind, Emmie and I talk about the states we’ve visited and the rest on our respective lists to get to allfifty.

“A big one for me is to visit Alaska,” I say.

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