Page 4 of Grace on the Rocks

His only luggage seemed to be a duffel bag and that tablet, unless he had a gorgeous girlfriend waiting at his gate to fly off somewhere lush and exotic, filled with elegant people who didn’t have deadlines.Theywere probably going someplace with sunshine and beaches likeBarcelonaorMallorca.Whatdid beautiful people do at the beach if not read?

Heat flooded her cheeks as she thought ofoneactivity, because of course her brain couldn’t just behave.Notthat she wanted to engage in beach-side activities withMr.HowManyTrees—or anyone else for that matter.

“Nine hundred and thirty-five trees, by the way,” she muttered, and he frowned at her again.

She’d been right about the perpetual scowl.

“For a print run of one hundred thousand books, if my math is right, it takes about nine hundred and thirty-five trees, assuming no recycled material in the paper.”

She knew, because she had tried to use it as an excuse to reduce her print run.Shecouldn’t bear the thought of all those books being remaindered when her readers realized she was a fraud.Instead, her publisher had pointed her toOneTreePlantedand suggested she donate the money to plant nine hundred and thirty-five trees out of her generous advance, and thenplease turn in the damn manuscript.

After tossing this fact at him like a peace token, she turned heel and scurried away, relieved she’d never have to see his stupid chiseled jaw or his equally stupid forearm tattoo ever again.

* * *

“Jeez, you were gone forever,”Wessaid whenGracefinally reached their gate. “Ithought maybe you’d been detained by a hoard ofScottishwolfhounds or something.”

“Is that a thing?”

“Come on, we’re boarding,”Wesurged, relievingGraceof her purchases so she could fish out her boarding pass. “Thanksfor the magazine.WhatdoIowe you?”

“On the house.”

Wes snorted. “Putit on my tab at least.Andlet the birthday extravaganza begin!”

Grace rolled her eyes. “It’snot a birthday party.”

“OhIknow,”Wessaid with absolute seriousnessGracedidn’t believe for a second. “Youdon’t celebrate birthdays.”Thenshe handedGraceback her lunch, picked up her own luggage, and hurried towards the gate attendant.

“Final boarding call for flight 455 with service toBarra.PassengersRiosandTeal, your plane is ready to depart,” the attendant said into a speaker while staring them down, knowing full well they were passengersRiosandTeal.

IfGracewas already a shriveled raisin of shame, now she was on the verge of scattering into dust, butWeslaughed and began babbling her profuse apologies. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.Thisis our fifth flight in twenty-four hours.Wedon’t know what day it is, let alone what time.”

“No worries at all,” the gate attendant said, all smiles and warmth for lovableWesley. “Havea nice flight.”ToGraceshe added icily, “You’reonly allowed one bag.”

Grace looked down at her solitary suitcase in confusion.

“I see three bags,” the gate agent said.

“My laptop can’t go under the plane…”Gracesaid, but oh no…Theywere counting her purse too, of course, and there was no way it could fit inside her laptop bag.

“Oh, thanks for holding my purse,Gray!”Wesexclaimed, grabbingGrace’sshoulder bag and shoving her own small clutch inside before turning sunnily back to the gate agent who pursed her lips once more atGrace’slaptop, but scanned her boarding pass.

“Thank you,”Gracemumbled to a stone-cold glare before schlepping down the jetway behind her friend.

The gate agent hadn’t been exaggerating.Theairplane was tiny, as though in another life it had been used for spraying crops.Theyhad to go outside onto the actual tarmac and surrender their suitcases to a handler who loaded them into the storage bay before their eyes.

“I know they said it was small, butIdidn’t expect it to be this small,”Gracewhispered, ignoring the immature grin that spread across her friend’s face and reaching for the worry stone in her pocket once more.

It had been a lucky find.Normallyshe wouldn’t pick things up off the airport floor, but when her laptop bag had flown open as she collected it from the security conveyer, showering pens and sticky notes in every direction, the rainbow colors of the stone had been too beautiful not to scoop up along with the rest of her things, and a little soap and water in the ladies’ room hadn’t hurt it.

“It’s like flying private.Likewe’re traveling with thePresidentor something,”Weswhispered.

“I think thePresidenthas a much bigger plane.Witha boardroom.Anda bed.”Mmm, a bed…Gracewas desperate to take a hot bath and then stretch out under fresh clean sheets at theB&Band forget this entire day had ever happened. “Thinkthere’s a bathtub?”

“IfIwerePresident,I’drather have a bathtub than a boardroom.Thatwould be amazing.”

“Welcome aboardBarraOne,” the flight attendant, a black woman in her late twenties wearing a smart jacket and tie, teased, andGrace’sface burned.

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