Page 9 of Flown in for Christmas

Rich is the only one who knows Joy is my assistant andnotmy girlfriend…or soon-to-be fiancée. Well, at least not for real. I had to tell him, and the mortified expression he gave me when I did, has me on edge. He understandswhyI said what I said, but he’s just as nervous about how this is going to play out as I am.

“Yeah.” My cousin sighs, judgment coming through the speakers. “You sure you want to do this, Nick? I’m sure if you just talk to your dad, he’ll understand—”

“No,” I bite out. “That’s no longer an option. You saw his face. Mom’s, too. They need this. And like hell I’m letting fucking Eric take something that belongsto me.”

“It’s not them I’m worried about,” he replies. He’s worried about how Joy will respond to this. Me, down on one knee the second I see her, pleading with her to say yes and play along. But it’s the only option I have.

“I’ll explain everything to her and she’ll be compensated for all of her time.”

“You could’ve told her over the phone before you bought the plane ticket,” he mutters. “Give the poor woman a chance to know what she’s about to walk into.”

I thought about that, but I didn’t want to give her the chance to say no, that she wasn’t coming. Especially after she told me she would come at a last second’s notice. I’ll have to ask her how the hell she swung that and make sure she’s reimbursed accordingly.

“Read me what you have in her file,” I tell him. I need to know everything I can before I get to this airport. It’s the bare minimum, but it’ll have to do.

Rich says something to Leah, instructing her to read off the attached file in his email. I knew Leah would find out eventually. Rich isn’t one to keep secrets from her, rightfully so.

The less people who know this one, though, the better.

“Joy Mara Bell. She’s twenty-five years old. She went to the University of Houston for her bachelors in advertising and moved to Dallas two years ago. She worked with a few agencies before landing at Davis Sporting Goods as a promotions assistant. She has a clean record and an amazing credit score.” Leah trails off quietly, “How is she so young with a creditscore like this, honey?”

“She probably—”

“Guys, focus,” I snap. We’re less than five minutes from the airport, we can’t be having these side conversations. “What else?”

“Um…” There’s a long pause. “That’s really it. She lived in Los Angeles most of her life and moved to Dallas after college. There’s not much here.”

Shit. “All right. Thanks, Rich.”

“Hey, uh, Nick,” Leah starts, “have you thought about what could happen if she says no?”

My chest feels tight at the thought alone.

I’ve been intentionally avoiding the veryideashe might tell me no.

The plan is, if I can keep a good distance between myself and my family during this proposal, I should be able to convince her to play along. I’ll have to do a lot of pleading with my eyes, subtle cues. Let’s just hope she picks up on them.

“Just…keep everyone back so they can’t hear what I say to her, all right?”

When our parade of vehicles arrives at the airport, everyone heads inside. Her flight took off a few minutes late, but it looks like they’ll be arriving on time. My mother takes charge, mapping out the small area at baggage claim to get alay of the land. Thankfully, she also wants everyone to give me a private moment with Joy before she’s bombarded by meeting the family for the first time.

I pick a spot and call it good. I lay out the rose petals at my mother’s instruction—my father looking on with amusement and a beaming smile.

I’ll take that smile, I decide. If I go through all this ending in Miss Bell suing me for harassment, at least my parents are thrilled.

Everyone moves back, and my sister gives me a suspicious side-eye. She wasn’t as easily convinced as my parents were six hours ago, and either she’s choosing to let them have this, same as me, or she’s waiting to get me cornered for questioning.

I ignore the dozens of prying eyes between passing travelers and take out my phone to check she’s landed. Another few minutes and she’ll be coming this way.

My palms start to sweat holding this cliché bouquet. My knees are locked with an anxious twitch, ready to buckle and drop down to one knee the moment I see her.

Should I wait to kneel? Try and whisper to her about the situation? Or go in full throttle?

She has no idea what she’s walking into…

I’ve got this, I tell myself.I can sell this to her.

Sell it to her so she’ll sell it to my entire family.

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