Page 94 of Perfect Assumption
He snickers. “No, you don’t need to worry about that.”
In the shadowy light of the tunnel, Ward looks like he’s bursting with a secret. His five-o’clock shadow just adds another layer of mystery to his gorgeous face. “You’re keeping something from me.”
His lips curve up just a little more.
“What is it?”
“Nothing bad. I promise.”
Unbuckling my seat belt, I slide into the middle seat and rebuckle myself in. “I have ways of making you talk,” I say coyly, trying out my rusty flirting skills.
The faintly amused look on his face disappears. In its place is a look so raw, so full of promise, I want time to stop. “All you have to do is ask, and everything I have is yours. My life, my wealth, and especially my heart. Don’t you know that, Angie?”
“I don’t need your wealth, Ward. But if you’re offering the other two, you have to be able to accept everything about mine in return. And that’s part of what this weekend is all about.”
He crushes me to him. “A large part of me is my wealth,” he starts to explain.
“No, it’s something you have. Who you are is different,” I contradict.
“Thank you.” His voice is humble.
“For what?”
“For seeing me—it—like that.”
“Anyone who doesn’t, doesn’t see you.”
“I know. And now I appreciate—more than ever—why my parents didn’t burden me and Carys with the knowledge of that kind of wealth every day.” We pull into Teterboro and collect our bags.
After we check in, we’re ushered into a VIP lounge. My head swivels left and right, looking for a sign for LockAir. A flight crew in inky-black suits with gold epaulets shows their badges before making their way past security. I bite a thumbnail. “Are you certain we’re not going to be on a small plane?”
Ward takes my hand. “Relax. If I was worried about it, I would have told you last night when you packed for twelve days, not two.” He pointedly looks down at his single bag in comparison to my three.
I shoot him a withering glare. “What a great time to mention…”
“Mr. Burke? Ms. Fahey? If you’ll both come this way, please.” It’s one of the crew members in black. I frown.
Ward stands and holds out a hand. I grab a bag, but he takes it from me and puts it back down. “Angie, honey, the crew has it from here.”
“Yes, ma’am, Mr. Burke is correct.” The young man slings my garment bag and smaller carry-on over his shoulder before he lifts a bag in each hand. “Please follow me.”
“Do I look as confused as I feel?” I whisper to Ward as we follow him down a red carpet beneath a plastic shielded archway.
He stops at the end and turns me to face him. “Nope. Now, remember, you can’t yell at me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because, I asked a friend for a favor.” Then he leads me beyond the plastic.
And the only plane in front of me is an enormous jet with “Lockwood Industries” painted along the fuselage. I was scared about flying to Montana on a puddle jumper. Why am I suddenly terrified to see the steward carrying our luggage aboard this beast? “Ward?” I have to yell his name to be heard over the planes taking off.
He bends down to be heard. “Your first flight had to be special, Angie. So, I called Ryan Lockwood to see if he was using his plane this weekend.”
“You called him up. Just like that?” I snap my fingers, but the sound is lost on the wind.
“I’ve known him for years, Angie. You’ll love him. I used to work for his husband before I came to work for Carys.”
“How many other surprises can I expect this trip?”
