Page 36 of Until It Was Real

She smooths a hand down her jacket and frowns. “My clothes are all wrinkled.”

“No worries. We’re checking into the hotel before our first meeting. You have time to change.”

Her cheeks darken. “I’ll iron these. It’ll be fine.”

Passengers begin to deboard the plane and I usher her in front of me. There’s no sense flying first class if you can’t be the first one off the plane.

We make our way through the airport to the baggage claim. I frown when I notice the men taking second glances at Dakota. I glare at a few. She’s not theirs to covet.

She’s not yours either.

“Oh look.” Dakota runs away. “One of our suitcases is already on the belt.”

I chase after her. “I’ll get it.”

But I’m too late. She’s already lifting the suitcase from the belt. Or, rather, she’s trying to. The suitcase is filled with samples of our whiskey. It’s not the lightest.

“I’ve got it,” she hollers, but she doesn’t manage to lift the suitcase and ends up running to keep up with the belt as she continues to try and lift it. She trips on air and starts to fall.

I rush after her and manage to catch her before she falls to the ground. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, but the suitcase is getting away.”

“It’ll come around again.”

Her eyes flare and I realize I’m holding her close and rubbing a hand in circles on her lower back. My cock sighs.Finally.No, not finally. I clear my throat and step away.

“You stay here.” I hand her the carry-ons. “I’ll get the suitcases.”

I don’t give her a chance to respond before walking off. My klutzy girl is stubborn. If she thinks she can help, she will. I have no desire to watch her get dragged by a suitcase over the baggage belt.

I spot the suitcases. I grunt as I grab them from the belt. They’re heavy. I can’t believe Dakota tried to lift them. She’s a little thing. She shouldn’t be lifting heavy items.

“Should I order us a ride share?” she asks when I join her. “I didn’t order one in advance as they say to wait until you have your luggage.”

She pulls out her phone but I stop her. “It’s handled.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Handled? I’m supposed to be in charge of the travel arrangements.”

“No one’s keeping score.” I motion her forward. “Let’s go.”

When she appears unsure of where to go, I take the lead. I shorten my stride to make sure she can keep up as we exit the baggage claim area. I scan the area for my name. When I notice a man holding a placard up with my name on it, I aim for him.

“Mr. Raider?” he asks and I nod. “Let me take your bags.”

I allow him to take the suitcases before wrestling the carry-ons away from Dakota. And I do mean wrestle. The stubborn woman doesn’t let go easily.

“But I’m not carrying anything,” she complains as we follow the driver to the car.

“You have your purse.”

“A purse doesn’t count.”

“Is it not a bag?”

“Whatever,” she mumbles as we reach the car.

I help the driver situate the bags in the trunk before opening the door for her. She slides in and I follow her.

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