Page 49 of Missed Exit

We all did.

I still get chills when his voice resonates from the stage.

“I’m from a long line of tall men with loud mouths

They say loyalty matters and blood is the glue,

But all that’s left in their veins is . . .”

The whole arena joins in to shout, “That west Texas crude!”

Law squeezes my hand, and the smile on his face tells me everything I need to know. We’re going to have a great weekend in Nashville. Derringer’s show tonight, the Astros game in his favorite sports bar tomorrow . . .

By Monday, when I tell him I’m ready to renovate the barn, he’ll be in a much better place to hear it. He’ll balk about it until it’s underway, and he’ll complain until it’s done, but he’s going to love that recording studio.

Thank you for reading Greta and Law's story! What's coming next in the Rocky Start Romance series? You won't want to miss Darby and Zane's story. Enjoy this sneak peek:

Another prerecorded airport announcement makes it nearly impossible to hear the person on the other end of my phone call. A stroller bumps my ass, so I weave my way through the crowded gate to stand by the windows, where I will hopefully not be trampled and will probably get better reception, anyway.

As soon as I stake my spot and come to a stop, my purse slips off my shoulder, pulling my arm down and causing hot coffee to slosh through the little plastic sipping hole and onto my hand. “Holy shit! That’s ridiculous.”

The customer service rep’s voice breaks up again, but I make out the words.No more cursingandnot ridiculous.

“Not you. The coffee. It’s ridiculously hot. Can we stay on topic, please?”

Her voice comes through loud and clear now, but she is definitely being ridiculous.

“Of course, I don’t expect you to be able to control the weather! But I am a platinum-level frequent flyer on your airline, and I do expect you to have some sort of priority list for rescheduling!”

I pause to take a tiny sip of my lava-hot coffee before I start to yell. Okay, before I yell louder because this whole situation is outrageous. “Don’t tell me how I’m allowed to talk to you. You have no idea the day I’ve had! All I’m asking is that you—”

I’m assaulted again, this time by the backpack the guy next to me swings up by a strap as he lifts it from the floor and turns to walk away, never even looking back to apologize. I know he knows he hit me with that thing. Jerk.

“Hello? Hello?” She fucking hung up on me.

Nobody cares about anyone else anymore. We are an entire society of ruthless assholes. No one in this terminal knows I got fired today, but I feel like it’s been stamped on my forehead. Not a single one of these people would care if it was.

But I care. I care a whole hell of a lot because I cared about that job. And not just for the paycheck. I lived for that damned job. And I was the best PR executive the agency had. They’ll regret letting me go.

And when they come crawling back, I’ll already be on to bigger and better things. Fuck them.

But right now, I’m supposed to be on a plane headed for Florida to decompress on a beach for a week. I deserve that!

Another woman looks up to make eye contact from her seat at the end of a row. She gives me a look of solidarity. Women get it. We know when one of our own is going through some shit.

“How can every damn flight have a weather delay, right?” I ask. “It’s not possible that the entire country is having bad weather!”

“Can you please stop yelling? You’re not the only person in this airport. You’re not even the only one being inconvenienced. And clearly, the weatherhereis the problem."

Oh, no, she did not just speak to me like that. I thought she was another strong woman ready to commiserate. But she’s just another passive passenger, willing to take whatever abuse the airlines dole out. Fucking sheep. I don’t have to stand here and be condescended to like this.

I turn on my heels and slam face-first into a wall.

A wall sporting such a curated business casual look he could be on his way to a photo shoot. No one outside of a menswear ad is this put together on a random Thursday afternoon.

Look at those shoulder-length waves of brown hair, just messy enough to make him look approachable, which is the last vibe anyone should want to give in an airport.

The only flaw on him is my coffee spilled all over his off-white leather slip-on shoes. Goddammit. Now, I have to apologize to this walking billboard, who is probably going to make it a whole thing because men who look like him always do.

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