Page 32 of Hunters and Hydrangeas

“Are we over the ocean?” I ask, startled.

“We are,” Noah says.

I draw in a shaky breath, wishing I had stayed unaware of that.

“It’s almost over,” Noah says reassuringly, taking my hand in his big, warm one.

And he’s right. Twenty minutes later, we’re on the ground. The landing is a bit rough, with a jarring jolt as the wheels touch down, but I don’t even care because it means we’re done.

It takes another twenty minutes to disembark the plane and thirty to grab our luggage and find the covered pickup area. When we walk through the doors, I nearly gasp.

It’s hot, and it’shumid.

“How is it still this warm?” I ask Noah. “Shouldn’t it cool off at night?”

“Florida is like that in the summer.”

I fan my face, but it doesn’t help.

The pickup area is quiet, and we spot our driver right away. The local NIHA office said they’d send someone to meet us, but it’s almost one in the morning, and Noah didn’t want to keep anyone up that late. Thankfully, our hotel has a shuttle service.

“Noah and Piper?” a man in a white SUV greets us. He wears a shirt with the hotel logo on it and smiles jauntily, like it’s noon and not the middle of the night.

“That’s us.” Noah takes my suitcase, nodding for me to get in, and then helps the man put our luggage in the back before joining me.

“Welcome to Florida,” the driver says when he slides into his seat. “Where are you all from?”

He and Noah chat as we drive. I watch the lights out the window, wishing it was daytime so I could see more of the city.

By the time we arrive at our Miami Beach hotel, it’s after two in the morning. There are large palm trees out front, and lights shine up on the exterior, highlighting its modern design. It looks fancy—certainly the fanciest hotel I’ve ever been to.

“Can you afford this?” I ask Noah as we roll our suitcases inside the air-conditioned foyer.

“My new position came with a raise,” he says cryptically, making me wonder how much he’s making now. We’ve never talked about it—it seems rude to ask, even if we’re dating.

“Maybe we should have gotten one room,” I say. “Saved some money.”

“I know that’s the reasonIcontemplated getting one room.”

I grin, laughing under my breath.

“But I couldn’t even if we wanted to,” he says. “Your dad called last night and gave me a stern lecture.”

I pause, gaping at him. “Are you serious? He called you after I told them about the trip?”

“He did.”

“How did he get your phone number?”

“I gave it to him.”

I roll my eyes and walk to the entry doors. “That’s on you then.”

My parents are too involved in our relationship, and Noah is too eager to please them.

“Next time, we won’t tell them we’re leaving,” he jokes.

“You’re already planning another trip?” I ask, happy to indulge in the flippant conversation.

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