Page 4 of Meant To Be

“Last month. I just finished a stint with a crew in Montana, so we didn’t have our weekly game because I wasn’t online.” Wade and I usually chatted when we played an online video game together. It was an easy way to stay in touch.

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“So why did you fly here if you were already closer to Asheville?”

“Because I was meeting Kent,” Piper ground out.

“When we get to the inn, we’ll toast his goodbye,” I said lightly.

She snickered. “We will. Should we get something to eat? If you’re on the same flight as I am, we have some time to pass.”

“Works for me.”

We stood together. I ignored the way my eyes wanted to linger on her curves as her T-shirt stretched across her breasts when she slid her arms through the straps of her backpack.

Chapter Three

PIPER

Rumor had it that plane seats were shrinking. They were small, to begin with, but I was short. This was one of the few times in the universe when being short was a benefit. Maybe the only other benefit would’ve been if I was skinny. I was not skinny. I was decidedly curvy. Most of the time, I tried to be happy with my size. But as I waited at the airport, I was feeling frumpy.

Perhaps it was getting dumped by my boyfriend at the airport when he had so clearly planned it. Or maybe it was having my brother’s best friend waiting with me.

Dylan offered to drive when we conferred over the car rental situation while we had a meal at the airport.

“I’ll drive. You deserve a drink,” he said with a brow waggle for the ages.

“I don’t need a drink to recover from Kent dumping me at the airport,” I said tartly, feeling a little stung Dylan was teasing about it.

He studied me for a beat. “Are you suddenly all broken up over it?”

I felt my lips purse. My brother called it my “prissy teacher look” when I felt like this. I immediately stretched my jaw open. Dylan watched me quietly.

“No. I just said I don’t need a drink to get over him.”

“I wasn’t implying you did,” he countered pointedly. “Even if you were about to dump him, it’s still shitty that he pulled this at the airport.” He shrugged. “If I’d been planning a weekend with someone, even if it wasn’t that serious, I wouldn’t be in the greatest mood if they sketched out at the airport. Kind of cowardly, all things considered.”

I rolled my eyes and snorted. “So true. Are you sure you don’t mind driving once we land in Asheville?”

“Definitely not.”

“I should probably add you to the car rental,” I said, lifting my phone.

“Yeah, we can do that when we pick it up.”

I was three margaritas in when we boarded the plane. All in all, I suppose I was grateful I had a meal before those three margaritas.

Once seated on the plane—coincidentally, or maybe not, beside each other—I glanced at Dylan. “Who knew that restaurant at the airport would have such good margaritas? I think they might be the best ones I’ve ever had.” I smiled up at Dylan. “I feel much better,” I added with a giggle and a hiccup.

He glanced down, his lips quirking with a smile. “You don’t drink much, do you?”

“Nope,” I said, emphasizing the P. “Do you drink a lot?” My voice was on the loud side.

A woman in front of us glanced over her shoulder as she was getting situated in her seat.

I sensed Dylan was about to laugh, but he didn’t. He merely shook his head. “Not really.”

When the woman glanced over again as she shimmied around whoever was in the center seat in the row in front of us, I smiled up at her, offering, “Don’t worry about me. I’m very friendly.”

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