Page 23 of Flying High

Chapter 10

Abbi

Ihavenoideawhere I am.

None at all.

But I sure as hell knowwhoI’m with. I’m overwhelmed by the presence of one Dean Lawless as he sits beside me, completely unruffled, and looking, to be honest, like a hotter version of James Dean in his tan leather jacket, white crew neck tee, and dark blue denim jeans. A woman could surely be excused for leaning over and licking the side of his face.

As we zip through the ever-darkening countryside, I steal glances at him and watch how his heavy silver watch peeks below the leather cuff as he effortlessly drives us toward our mystery destination. How is he so handsome with apparently so little effort?So unfair.

And that cologne he was wearing the other night, well, that’s back, and it’s making me feel a little jumpy. It keeps making my mind wander to another time when we were alone together in the dark and quite a bit closer.

There’s only so much a girl can take.

Ever since he picked me up at work, I’ve been pestering him about where he’s taking me so that I can work out when the best time would be to go through the Dating 101 I’ve prepared. We only have time for one, maybe two more dates before the wedding, depending on whether I can find any more suitable matches, as well as their availability at short notice, so I need to make sure the next one succeeds.

He was standing in front of my office, waiting for me at six, as promised. He showed me to his car and opened my door for me. These are all promising improvements. I can only hope that it’s my tutelage and a bit of practice in the field that’s rubbing off on him.

It makes him definitely more attractive, which isn’t something I’m capable of being objective about right now. Maybe it’s the heady cologne?

In any event, I can’t seem to assess Dean’s situation from a distance, clouded by the attraction I feel toward him.

At least I’m being honest with myself. After what happened the other night in the alleyway, I have to be clear about things, especially with myself—Dean isn’t for me. It’s literally my job to find him a match that’s not me. That’s what I keep reminding myself every five minutes. That’s why I’m trying to slot things into a schedule, to keep myself on track and heading in the right direction—Dean with a date at the wedding on Sunday.

Damn pheromones. And hormones.

All the moans.

Ahhh.

“We’re almost there.” Dean’s voice startles my silly circular thoughts, and I’m sort of grateful that he’s not been a Chatty Kathy on the drive.

Surprisingly, the silence hasn’t felt at all strained. Just comfortable.

A moment later, Dean’s pulling off a highway exit into a heavily forested area.

Yikes, where the hell are we?

From there, it’s a series of turns down an oddly well-sealed road with several high fences and gates but without any visible signage. Is this some sort of doomsday preppers’ thing? What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Finally, we come to a clearing in the trees, and the road widens into a huge open area, seriously massive. I can barely make out the detail of what’s at the far end of the area surrounded on all sides by dense trees.

“What is this place, Dean?” I ask, shaking my head as I look out the window, noticing as we drive along the perimeter a couple of large structures off in the distance, something that looks like a runway and massive buildings in the distance. He doesn’t respond right away, but when I glance over at him, he’s watching me with a big grin on his face. “Is this an airfield?”

“Yes, it’s a private airfield belonging to a client of mine.” Wow, some client. I’ve been on a grand total of three flights in my life. Travel is a luxury I can’t afford very often, so the idea of a person owning an airfield,needingan airfield, defies belief, really.

Dean pulls up the car and shuts off the engine. I look around at the strange sight. Usually, at an airport, you don’t get anywhere near the planes—you’re fed right into the middle of one through retractable enclosed walkways. Here, there’s an open hangar and three planes tucked inside. A few guys are walking behind a huge helicopter being towed out into the middle of a large white circle in the middle of the tarmac.

Dean gets out of the car and walks around to open my door for me.

“This is… interesting,” I say cautiously because I’m not too sure what all of this is, but Dean brought me here, and it’s something to do with his work.

“Interesting?” Dean asks in a bemused tone. “It’s a billionaire’s private airfield. These are his toys. This evening, we get to play.”

My eyes widen as he takes my hand and leads me over toward the huge chopper. As we approach, one of the men waves and breaks away.

“Dean, you made it.” An older man approaches dressed in chinos, a shirt, and a windbreaker. His skin is tanned, and his blue eyes twinkle as he holds out his hand, and the two energetically shake. There’s something almost electric about the energy this man has about him—his vitality—it belongs to a much younger man. His charisma is obvious, even in these few seconds.

---