Page 1 of Lavender Lake
CHAPTER ONE
The Airport
“Hadley,” I wheezed. “Now isn’t a good time!”
“You’re running to your gate, aren’t you?” my twin demanded.
“Yes,” I admitted. “But it’s not my fault I’m about to miss my plane.”
“Then whose fault is it?”
“Take your pick. My plane out of New York was late taking off. There was a rogue spring snowstorm that grounded all the planes when I landed in Denver. The airport shuttle arrived late to the hotel this morning. Then there was traffic to the airport.”
“And you don’t think you might’ve brought this on yourself? A little self-sabotage, maybe?”
“You can lecture me when you pick me up.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” I smiled despite the verbal lashing I was getting from my sister. “I’ll be held hostage in your car. Nowhere to run.”
She chuckled. “Oh, I forgot to tell you?—”
“Later, gator.” I hung up on Hadley just as I made it to the gate. The sour-faced attendant shot me a maternal look of disappointment.
“I know,” I huffed. “I’m sorry. Am I too late? Did I miss the flight?”
“No.” She shook her head, sending her curtain of silver hair swooshing over her shoulders. “You made it just in time.”
I put my phone under the code reader. It beeped and turned green. Favoring my weak ankle, I made it down the flyway. A blonde flight attendant pursed her lacquered red lips as I approached the aircraft door.
“Sorry,” I said, wrestling my monogrammed suitcase onto the plane. I made it to my row and collapsed the handle of my luggage so I could stow it above me. I was getting ready to lift it above my head when a deep, masculine voice said, “Let me help you with that.”
Prickles of awareness and familiarity raced down my spine as I looked over my shoulder at the man I’d spent the previous night with.
My eyes and mouth widened in shock.
“I’ll take that as a ‘thank you.’” He grinned.
He took my bag in his large hands and hoisted it effortlessly into the overhead compartment.
I was standing there like a gaping moron when the flight attendant came toward us.
“Please take your seats,” she said, her left eye twitching as she stared at me. But then she looked at the man whose name I still didn’t know, and yet who I was intimately familiar with. She beamed. “Can I get you anything, Mr. Bowman?”
“No, thanks,” he said, a slight smile curving his generous, talented lips.
“Ma’am? Your seat,” the flight attendant said pointedly.
3A.
I scuttled into the row and hastily dropped into my window seat. I quickly turned off my phone and shoved my shoulder bag underneath the seat in front of me before buckling myself in.
Mr. Bowmantook the aisle seat next to me. He settled his large frame into the oversized first-class seat, but he still looked like he was sitting in a sardine can.
“She knows your name,” I said as the flight attendant began walking through the cabin away from us.
“She does,” he agreed, looking at me. His steely gray eyes raked over me from head to toe, but then he paused and examined my neck. “Didn’t do a good enough job hiding that.”
