Home > Choose Me (The Lindstroms #4)(2)

Choose Me (The Lindstroms #4)(2)
Author: Katy Paige

Dream or no dream, the only fireworks Lars expected this weekend were the ones set to go off in the Gardiner Community Park on Monday evening. There was no reason for Lars to feel extra excited or expectant.

No reason at all.

***

Jane Mays looked out the window of the taxiing Boeing 757, still groggy from the nap she’d taken from Chicago to Bozeman. Leaving LaGuardia Airport in New York at seven a.m. meant arriving at the airport at five-thirty a.m. That meant waking up at four a.m.

And since Jane was the furthest possible thing from a morning person, now it meant she was feeling crabby and sluggish, even after her catnap.

It didn’t help that Jane had left her favorite camera at her cousin’s downtown loft last night while she was there packing her cousin’s things for the trip, which meant going back to get it at one o’clock in the morning. But there was no way Jane was going to spend a week on location without her camera. Returning from Sara’s apartment, she had packed until about two-thirty and then fell asleep for ninety minutes draped across her kitchen table before the alarm on her phone buzzed her awake.

Turning toward the small airplane window, Jane rubbed her eyes, noting snow-capped mountains in the distance. The window didn’t afford a great view, but she admired it as best she could through the scratched, cloudy plexiglass. She hoped to get some good shots in before Sara came to town on Tuesday, but there was so much to do between now and then, she probably wouldn’t have the chance.

In the five years since Jane had graduated college and been pressured into taking on the job as her cousin’s assistant and location coordinator, Sara—er, um, the model professionally-known as Samara—had progressively become more demanding, more needy, never fully satisfied with anything.

And Jane, who had developed the skill of tuning out Sara’s over-the-top drama, abusive language and absurd demands, was once again reaching her breaking point. It happened cyclically. Jane would have just about enough of Sara’s attitude and share with her uncle her intent to quit. But then between Uncle Mays cajoling Jane to give it another month and Sara choosing to behave herself, Jane wouldn’t walk away.

There was something about her uncle, the identical twin of her deceased father, beseeching her with her father’s face that made Jane’s gumption fold and crumble every time. The words “Something is better than nothing” circled in her head, and quite simply, her uncle, Sara’s father, was all she had.

Jane turned on her phone and waited for it to boot up as they reached the gate. She couldn’t remember the name of the tour operator she should be looking for. Trend’s travel department had made all of the ground arrangements and Jane had been assured that all of her instructions pertaining to Sara’s needs had been passed along.

Her phone buzzed noisily, downloading messages, as she put on a beat-up Red Sox cap and tossed her chic Coach backpack over her shoulder. Five messages from Sara: two calls and three texts—even though her cousin knew good and well that Jane was flying—and it was all nonsense: Make sure there’s Burt’s Bees lip gloss on my bedside table; Did you pack my fave slippers? and What did I get my daddy for his birthday?

Jane had packed a dozen Burt’s Bees lip glosses for Sara, had purchased an extra pair of her favorite slippers for Yellowstone so that she wouldn’t have to be without them in New York for even one day, and had sent her uncle Patriots season tickets, signing the card from both girls.

Jane had taken a small measure of satisfaction in signing her own name first—she had, in fact, purchased the tickets and card with her own money—sure that Sara wouldn’t remember his birthday anyway. If Sara hadn’t read the email Jane sent advising Sara of the gift, that was her problem.

There was a voicemail from Sara’s agent, Sebastian, who would be traveling with her on Tuesday morning, as well as two calls from Sara’s trainer, and a text from her makeup artist, Ray, which simply read: Wow! 3 days to u-self, girl. U deserve it. Enjoy. xo

Jane smiled at that text, shoving her phone back in her pocket as she made her way down the jetway and into the airport. I do deserve it. And damn it, if she had to spend a week in the same house with Sara once her cousin arrived for the shoot, the least Jane could do was to enjoy a little time to herself before Sara arrived.

Once upon a time the cousins, who were only a year apart in age, had been best friends. Both only children, the girls spent every holiday and school vacation together—at Jane’s house in San Francisco or Sara’s house in Boston, at Disney World over spring break and in Cape Cod for two weeks every summer. But when Jane’s parents had been killed in a car crash a few weeks after her tenth birthday, she’d been sent to live with her aunt and uncle Mays permanently. Her sudden presence in the Mays family had upset the careful balance that had pre-existed her. Spectacularly beautiful nine-year-old Sara, who was unaccustomed to sharing her parents—her father, especially—had quickly come to regard her older cousin Jane as an interloper, and whatever friendship that had once flourished between the cousins met a hasty demise.

Jane sighed, shaking herself out of her reverie. Distracted by the barrage of texts, she had forgotten to look for the name of the tour operator who would be meeting her flight. As the escalator gently lowered her to the ground floor, Jane dug into her back pocket to find her phone. She tapped on her email and scrolled through the messages filed under Yellowstone Trend Shoot, looking for ground details. Ah-ha. Lindstrom & Sons. Lars Lindstrom will be waiting to collect you from baggage claim…

She looked up as she stepped off the escalator and realized she needn’t have bothered looking him up since she couldn’t have possibly missed him. Aside from the fact that Bozeman Yellowstone International Airport was one of the least bustling places she had ever touched down, making him a standalone figure at the bottom of the escalator holding a sign reading Jane Mays, he was, hands down—and Jane had seen the best-looking men in the world up close and personal—the most jaw-droppingly handsome man she had ever seen.

Not that it could possibly matter for Plain Jane Mays.

***

There weren’t a whole lot of people arriving from Chicago, and without the benefit of a photo, Lars just assumed that the assistant of Samara Amaya would be a fashionable woman. She would also sit in first class, thus be one of the first to deplane, but as he watched the passengers step onto the escalator, no one fit the bill. There was an older couple, two businessmen, a middle-aged lady struggling with a rambunctious toddler, and a teenage kid in jeans and a sweatshirt with a baseball cap pulled low over her eyes, and a few brown curls escaping over her ears.

The couple, the men and the lady made their way to baggage claim without giving Lars a second glance. The kid in the baseball cap got off the escalator and walked purposely toward Lars. Huh. Maybe she needed directions.

But as she walked closer, Lars realized that she wasn’t a teenager, as he’d originally assumed, but a young woman in baggy clothes. His glance flicked to the strap of her backpack. He could tell it was real leather, and it looked expensive. Flipping his gaze back to her face, he saw diamond studs glistening in her ears. Suddenly she was in front of him, and putting two and two together, Lars realized just in time that this must be Jane Mays, the woman for whom he was waiting.

“Miss Mays?” he asked, hoping she didn’t notice the surprise in his voice or on his face.

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