Page 4 of Meet Me at the Grand

Liam already had his phone out, scanning his email for the flight number. “Nah, I’ve got everything in my carry-on. You know I’m an expert at packing light by now.”

“Don’t I know it. All right, now, skedaddle. And let us know you got in okay.”

“I’m not texting you so late at night. I’ll be fine. Thanks for everything. And tell Dad I said not to worry.” Dad had enough on his plate—helming a multi-million-dollar corporation with fifteen full-time employees and thousands of contractors around the country was enough to make anyone stressed. But a diabetic who already struggled to take care of himself?

Yeah, that was a recipe for disaster.

But Liam had a plan to help alleviate some of that stress—if Dad would approve it.

Checking out the Departures screen in the airport concourse, Liam groaned. Of course his new gate would be at the opposite end. He’d have to hoof it.

Twenty minutes later, a bit sweaty and in desperate need of some hydration, Liam was boarding his new plane to a new city instead of home.

Although, did something really count as home if a guy was elsewhere more often than there?

Liam waited his turn in line, scanned the boarding pass on his phone, smiled at the gate attendants, and waited again in the jetway, the white noise of the plane’s engine cocooning him in the space, muffling out the conversations of the people around him excited to travel to their next destination.

Sliding off his suit coat, Liam tucked it over one arm and finally made his way to his business class seat at the front of the plane. Most of the seats were already filled with an assortment of guests who were drinking champagne and cocktails, dressed up in designer suits just like him.

After removing his laptop and phone, Liam placed his suitcase in the overhead compartment and settled into his aisle seat beside an older Asian gentleman typing away on his own computer.

A flight attendant who looked around his thirty-two years approached, her sleek brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail. “Good evening, Mr. Stone. We are so glad you could join us. Is there anything I can get you to make your flight more comfortable?”

“Some coffee would be great.” He glanced at the name tag pinned to her blue uniform shirt. “Thanks so much, Pamela.”

She lifted her eyebrows knowingly, a smile in her eyes. “Coffee, huh? Guessing this will be a working flight for you?”

He chuckled back at her. “You got it.” Liam slid out the tray table in front of him and placed his laptop on it. “I’ll need you to keep me well supplied.”

She winked at him. “I’m on it.” Then she turned and made her way to the service galley, disappearing behind a red curtain.

Liam allowed his shoulders to sink back against the seat. This airline wasn’t his favorite, but it definitely beat the one he’d flown to Seattle six months ago. And the one to Dallas a few months before that. Must have been what was available last minute, though. Oh, well. He’d have to make the best of it since he was due to meet Phil McAllister, CEO of the McAllister Hotel, tomorrow morning at ten.

Yawning, Liam pulled up Marianne’s email and began to scan the basic details of the project. Stone Development specialized in designing, building, and revitalizing high-end, boutique hotels, and this project wasn’t much different from the rest. Shouldn’t take too long to get up to speed.

His phone rang, and Liam snatched it up. What was Travis doing calling him on a Friday night? “I’m surprised Monica let you call this late.”

“She’s out with her friends. I’m on diaper duty.”

“Wow. That’s the life.”

“It’s something, all right. I love my son, but this guy produces more poop than can possibly be healthy.”

Liam pictured his gym rat friend trying to change a diaper—and just couldn’t. He laughed. “That’s disgusting.” The captain said something over the loudspeaker. “Hey, I won’t be able to talk long. My flight’s about to take off. I’m assuming you didn’t call me to talk about your kid’s pooping habits.”

The man across the aisle from Liam turned his head slightly toward him, his lip curling in disgust. Liam offered an apologetic shrug.

“Ha, no. I wanted to tell you that I finally heard back from one of the locations we were scouting. They weren’t planning to sell, but they’re willing to entertain an offer. So I set up a meeting with the realtor tomorrow?—”

“Dude, I can’t.” Liam groaned. “Allan’s mom broke her hip, so I’m on my way to New York to take over his project. Won’t be home for three weeks.”

“Seriously? Bro, you were just gone for two months. That’s insane.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

“Aren’t you tired of living out of a suitcase? That’s the whole reason we’re pitching this project, right?” Travis paused. “You’re still in this with me, aren’t you? Because even though we’ve both worked at Stone for ten years, I don’t think a pitch coming frommewill mean much to your dad. But from the Golden Boy…”

“Shut up.” Liam shook his head. “And yeah, of course I’m still in this. We’ll just have to postpone a bit. Or you go to the sites, take lots of photos, or maybe even video chat me in. We’re going to find a way to make this project work.”

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