Page 2 of Obsessed Heir

She gives him a genuine smile. “Abby planned everything herself.”

His gaze flips to the mirror, focusing squarely on me, and stays there.

“Great job, Abby,” he says in a more personal tone before turning to the car ahead of us.

“Thank you,” I murmur, my cheeks warming. “Is all this traffic going there?” I ask, refocusing the conversation on the cars and SUVs stretching for miles.

I still can’t get over how few trucks they have in this area. It’s nothing like Texas.

“These drivers go to a parking lot where they’ll leave their cars during the trip.” He points into the distance, but all I see are buildings. Maybe one of those is a parking structure. “Thedrivers load the passengers into shuttles and drive them to the cruise ships.”

Traffic finally moves along, so I do another check with Miss Opal. “You have your passport and boarding pass?”

“Yes.” She opens her purse, which she’s stuffed with a dozen extra things she insists she can’t do without. Rummaging through the wipes, tissue, and pillbox, she finally pulls out the dark-blue booklet to show me.

“Good. You need to keep it handy, Miss Opal. You can’t hold up the line.”

“I will,” she assures me, tightening her hold.

“And your boarding pass?”

“Right here.” She pulls out the bright-pink plastic sleeve I got her to keep her documents together.

As much as she claims to be at the point of missing a step, she’s still got it together. Though she does have the occasional moment of being scatterbrained, which she claims comes from having blonde roots.

“Your pen is in there?”

“Yes.” She angles her shoulders. “And I’m dressed appropriately?”

I’m not sure what’s appropriate for cruise-wear, but she’s as classy as always. She insisted on designer navy slacks and a blue and white silk top. Navy because she’s sailing.

“You look lovely, as usual.”

The brakes squeal, the horn blares, and we’re thrust forward then to the left.

“What are you doing?” the driver mutters, jumping on the horn.

I immediately reach out to brace myself, only to be yanked back by the seat belt. Miss Opal goes through the same steps, her purse flipping in the process.

“Oh, dear.” She reaches out, clutching at the handles, but the bag tumbles off her lap. Documents, pens, and makeup clatter as they spill onto the floorboard.

“It’s okay, Miss Opal. I’ll grab everything in a minute.” I glance through the rear window at the traffic jam. The mauve SUV that ignored the light and tried to cut in line is in the middle of it all.

“Sorry, ladies.” He chances a quick glance in our direction. “You okay back there?”

“Yes. Who let that idiot behind the wheel?” she grumbles.

I hold back a smile while she struggles to pull the seat belt away from her silk blouse. From Miss Opal, who tries her best to be a proper lady, that’s as good as getting blasted.

“Yes.” I pull on the seat belt a couple of times to loosen its hold then turn to her. “I’ll get your things,” I assure her, so she settles into her seat.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, Abby.”

“You’ll be fine. I promise.” I hand her the purse. “You’re going to enjoy your time in such a beautiful place.”

Reaching under our seat, I collect the travel-sized wipes she insisted she needed as a backup.

While she refers to me as her personal assistant, I started out as little more than a charity case. The daughter of a man who tried to con her out of an exorbitant amount of money.

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