Page 5 of Meant To Be

Dylan chuckled as he slid an arm around my shoulders. “She really is.”

Her gaze bounced back and forth between us, and she smiled, replying, “Y’all make a cute couple.”

I was just about to blurt out that we weren’t a couple when the attendant passed by, glancing down. “Can you tuck your bag under the seat a little farther?” He pointed at my backpack on the floor under my feet.

I looked up at him. “It’s my footrest,” I pointed out.

“Here, I’ll fix it.” Dylan leaned down and shifted my backpack slightly, tucking it out of the way, but I could still put my feet on it. The attendant thanked him and continued down the aisle. Dylan had removed his arm from my shoulders, but he was still right there beside me. With the narrow seats, I couldn’t even wiggle without touching him.

Because apparently, three margaritas resulted in me saying every thought aloud, I announced, “You are right here.” For good measure, I nudged him with my elbow playfully.

His low chuckle made my insides feel a little funny. That threw me off just enough that I didn’t say it out loud. Dylan certainly didn’t need to know I thought he was cute. To be honest, he was a lot more than cute. Before I could get too caught up in this train of thought, all the stuff that happened before our plane took off set into motion. I paid close attention to the attendants as they showed us what to do if we crash-landed.

I leaned over toward Dylan, whispering loudly, “There’s no ocean between here and Asheville. We’re not gonna fall in the ocean.”

Dylan simply smiled and reached for the pillow he had tucked in the seat pocket in front of him. He placed it on his shoulder, anticipating it was the perfect resting spot for my head.

I fell asleep. I came awake with a jolt when the wheels of the plane hit the runway. I straightened and dragged my sleeve across my cheek where I could feel some drool. I only hoped it wasn’t visible to Dylan.

He glanced over. “Did you have a nice nap?”

I felt less tipsy and more normal and a little bit mortified that I had fallen asleep on his shoulder. I’d known Dylan for years and trusted him completely, but it was still weird. All of my interactions with him were always with my brother.

I wondered if I’d ever spent more than a few minutes alone with him. We had certainly spent plenty of time together. He and my brother would meet in our hometown during college breaks. He’d joined us a few other times at the lodge where my brother worked when they were hosting events there. Apparently, I still said some of my thoughts aloud before I could think better of it.

I blurted out, “We never spend time alone together. It’s always with Wade.”

One of Dylan’s brows arched as he considered this before nodding in agreement. “You’re right. Well, I guess we’re getting a crash course in then. How many days together?”

I clutched the small airplane pillow to my chest. “Four days and four nights.”

It was Thursday, and I had planned for us to arrive at the inn the night before the official event. The band was playing two nights there, Friday and Saturday. I had thought, very mistakenly, that Kent and I would have Sunday evening for ourselves.

Dylan was quiet for a beat before he nodded. “All right, then. Should be fun.” His tone was low, and my belly shimmied. I needed to stop looking into his eyes.

Chapter Four

PIPER

By the time Dylan turned down the road that led to this inn, I was beyond relieved he was driving. It was dark, it was winter, and we were in the Blue Ridge Mountains. These mountains were famous for their winding, narrow roads. The stretch of highway that led to this inn was considered one of the world's most winding stretches of highway, known as the Tail of the Dragon. It boasted a whopping 318 curves in a mere eleven miles. They were tight, sharp, and near constant.

As Dylan rounded yet another turn, I glanced up to my side through the window. Although it was dark, I could still see the steep mountainside rising up to one side. The headlights from the rental car glittered on the icy cliff ahead. When he guided the car around another curve, the beam of headlights angled out over what I presumed was a valley. My belly felt a little funny, and it wasn’t because of Dylan. I didn’t want him to drive into the valley accidentally.

Apparently, I said that out loud because Dylan replied, “I’m not going to drive off the highway, Piper. You grew up around here. You shouldn’t stress about this.”

“I never like driving at night. Never. I did grow up around here, but it was closer to Asheville and Stolen Hearts Valley. I think I’ve only actually driven down this stretch of highway once. It was scary even in the daylight.”

While the mountains out West in the United States were well-known for mountain passes and deep snowfall, the mountains in the East were less likely to have swathes of mountainside cut out to make way for the road. When these roads were built, they hugged the mountains and followed the curves of the landscape. Maybe we didn’t get as much snow here, but the icy and wet winter was a recipe for slick roads. We had the occasional massive snowfall and ski lodges that counted on it.

Just before we turned onto the side road leading us to the inn, we passed through a narrow stretch of the highway with steep cliffs rising on either side.

“Here’s to hoping there’s not a big snowstorm this weekend. I can imagine this inn gets cut off sometimes,” I commented.

“Storms happen. Even if there’s a big snowstorm, I’m sure we'll be fine. While we waited at the airport, I looked up the inn. They have backup generators and fireplaces aplenty,” Dylan explained.

“You sound like a tourist guide,” I pointed out with a snort.

I could practically feel him roll his eyes even though I couldn’t see in the darkness.

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