Page 14 of Planes, Trains, and Candy Canes

Reese frowned at him—and then threw a piece of chocolate at his face.

“Ow!”

“Don’t say that about my friend. He’s smart and funny and a great actor. He puts up with my crazy ass, and he obviously would be a dating god.”

Her last statement was so bizarre that Derrick actually scanned the cramped plane around them to see who Reese could be talking about.

She grabbed his chin and pointed it back to herself. “You, doofus.”

There was no way his entire body should jump in pleasure just from the way she yanked his gaze to hers and locked eyes with him.

“Me?”

“You. You make people feel like they’re going to be okay—and then once the shit settles down, that they’re going to have fun. Do you know that?”

“No. No one has ever told me anything even remotely like that.”

“Then you’ve been dating the wrong women. Real grown-ass women only want thrills in the bedroom. In everyday life, they want a guy who has his shit together, holds a job, cleans up his own messes, and loves them even when they look like crap. Oh, and they want coffee, chocolate, fuzzy socks, houseplants that are hard to kill, and a cat of their very own.”

“I like cats.”

I’m sucking at this.

Buuut apparently not. What the hell?“This is Snickerdoodle. He died two years ago. I’d had him since I was fourteen.” Derrick tapped away his lists, and his computer screen revealed a long-haired sandy-colored cat with amber eyes, looking adoringly into the camera.

“Ohhh, oh, he’s so precious. Jeff was allergic to cats. I used to foster kittens until they found forever homes—but then I thought I’d found my forever person, so I stopped.”

“Hm. I made it a mental rule that my forever person would want cats. At least one.”

Her hand was back in his again. “That’s a good rule.”

Chapter Four

“The train leaves at four in the afternoon.”

“There are no rental cars in the entire freaking state of Florida. Well... not unless it’s like Honest Bob’s Gator Farm and Rentals in some swamp town that doesn’t have a website.” Reese’s phone screen dimmed. “I need to charge my phone. And my computer. And I need a shower. I must look like a caffeinated rat.”

“You look beautiful—just tired. Well... I guess we could get a hotel for a few hours and get some sleep?”

“I’m not sleeping until I leave Florida.” Reese crossed her arms, telling herself she was channeling inner strength and not acting like a stubborn three-year-old. “There has to be a car somewhere!”

Derrick shouldered his bag and gave her a wary side eye as she followed the baggage carousel around one more time. When she made her way back to his side, this time with her only surviving checked bag in hand, he hissed, “Your brand of crazy might be growing on me, but I’mnotgoing to steal a car!”

“We’re not stealing.” Reese’s eyes landed on the white and red Our Car is Your Car sign at the end of the airport concourse. “We’re stalking.”

“What?” Derrick yelped.

“I’ll explain on the way. Do you have a clean shirt in there?”

“Well, I—”

“And a razor?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” She pointed to the restroom ahead of them. “Go into that bathroom and come out looking like a customer service expert.”

“But I’m not—”

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