I glance up at the open door, wondering if I should just waltz in like I own the joint or wait until Mack gets back. I’m on the struggle bus right now with just walking aboard, but I’m not sure standing out here in the sun is the best bet for Oliver either.
“Are you joining us on this flight or just hanging back?”
I startle at the unfamiliar voice and whip around as quickly as I can, considering I’m holding a baby carrier. Standing right in front of me is the owner of the deep timbred voice. Colton Donavan.
He smiles. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” When I just stare at him, he finally asks, “You’re Lena, right? I assume you are, considering,” he adds, nodding toward the carrier.
“Oh, yes,” I stammer, reaching my hand forward. “Lena Stanley.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Lena. I’m Colton, but I guess by the look on your face, you already knew that,” he laughs. Colton waves his hand toward the baby carrier. “Do you mind if I help carry him up the stairs?”
I’m a little surprised and grateful at his offer. “Oh, sure. That would be great, thanks.”
“After you.”
I glance toward the parking lot and can see Mack and the other gentleman heading this way, their hands laden with more bags and supplies for the baby. Knowing he won’t be far behind me, I proceed to the stairs and board the jet, Mack’s boss hot on my heels. I find two more gentlemen already seated and chatting, one I recognize as the other driver on Colton’s team.
I head to the back, away from the men in conversation, hoping to be out of the way. Both acknowledge me with a head nod, but keep their conversation going. Colton sets the carrier in the middle of the row of seats and gives me a warm smile. “There you go.”
“Thank you,” I stammer, still a little shocked to be talking to the Colton Donavan. He nods and is immediately pulled into the conversation with the other gentlemen on board, so I busy myself with securing Oliver’s carrier in the seat.
“Hey, did you meet everyone?” Mack asks, glancing at the group of guys not too far away on the opposite side of the plane as he sets the diaper bag down on the empty seat beside the carrier.
“Oh, I met Colton outside, but the other two were busy,” I tell him as a few more board.
“Come on,” he says, taking my hand and glancing down at the baby. “He’s sleeping so he should be fine for a few minutes.”
The warmth of his hand wrapped around mine sends tingles of awareness through my body. I should probably gently remove my hand from his grasp, but I don’t. Frankly, it feels too damn good. Familiar. Instead, I entwine my fingers with his and smile politely at the group.
“Hey, guys, good to see ya,” Mack greets. “This is my friend, Lena. Lena, this is Peter Abbott with the PR department and Cash Huntington. He drives the other car, and of course you know Colton.”
“And don’t forget us.” We turn to the entrance of the plane, and I find the most beautiful woman standing there, holding a little boy’s hand. I know instantly who she is. Rylee Donavan.
“And Rylee and Ace,” Mack says, smiling at the little boy who’s a fixture at the company, just like his dad.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Rylee says, coming over and shaking my hand.
“Nice to meet you too,” I tell her, a little awestruck at seeing this family in the flesh, and not just on magazines, the internet, or television.
“If everyone will take their seats, we’re ready for takeoff,” the pilot announces over the speaker.
Just like that, everyone finds a seat within the small, yet roomy plane. I take the seat on the aisle so Mack can sit beside Oliver’s carrier, and buckle myself in. When Mack does the same, I realize my grave mistake. We’re sitting very close. Closer than we’ve sat since my arrival in Los Angeles. So close I can smell his soap and his aftershave.
Too close to not affect my sanity.
“You comfortable?”
I startle when Mack’s breath tickles my ear, his soft words like a ballad that serenades me somewhere else. “Yes,” I squeak, trying to sit up straight in the seat, giving him plenty of room.
As the plane taxies toward the runway, I glance around the cabin. The Donavans are sitting together, young Ace watching eagerly out the window, as the airport passes by. The others appear to be settling in for the flight. Cash has his eyes closed. The flight attendant takes her seat, while the captain relays that we’re clear for takeoff. The jet flies down the runway and launches into the sky. We’re airborne and heading toward Ohio in a matter of minutes.
“I can’t believe he’s still sleeping,” Mack says, gazing down at Oliver with a grin.
“They sleep a lot at this age. Or so I’ve read,” I reply, the corners of my mouth turning upward.
“You’re doing wonderful with him, Lean,” he tells me, reaching over and patting my hand. It’s a friendly gesture, except when he doesn’t take his hand from mine, it quickly turns from friendly to…more than friendly.
My heart is skipping around in my chest. That’s not a good thing, you know. The last thing I need is to get close to Mack Cruz again. You know, close. I’m leaving in a little over four weeks, and I can already tell that departure is going to suck donkey balls. That’s why it’s imperative I keep my distance.
Friends only.
With a small grin, I say, “Thanks.”
But I don’t move my hand.
I yawn again, my eyes growing heavy.
“Why don’t you get some rest? We have a few hours before we’re there. I’m probably going to head over to sit by Cash soon and talk strategy. We like to use this time to discuss different things we know about the race, the track, and the other teams.”
I glance over him to where Oliver continues to saw logs, his little mouth open in slumber. I’m totally jealous right now, thinking Mack’s offer to take a little nap is too good to pass up. “If you don’t mind,” I start.
“Of course not. It was an early morning for you too,” he reassures, squeezing my hand. “Take a nap.”
Mack relaxes in his seat and reaches over with his left index finger to gently stroke his son’s hand. Oliver actually sighs in contentment. The softest grin spreads across my lips as my eyes close. Mack’s so sweet and paternal, just the way I always suspected he’d be. Even if he wasn’t sure he’d have kids, I knew he’d be a good dad.
As I drift off to sleep, all I can think about is how he proved me right.
***
“Lena.” His husky timbre rouses me from a deep sleep. When I open my eyes, it’s his chocolate ones I’m gazing into, and I’ll be honest, my heart does this grand pirouette in my chest. “We’re about to land.”
I realize I’m sort of draped over the armrest, my head using his very muscular arm as a pillow. It’s a rather unusually hard place to rest my head, but that didn’t stop me from invading his personal space and using him for my own personal enjoyment.
Wait. That came out wrong.
I clear my throat, my eyes dropping to his chest. Oliver is there, wide awake and trying to eat his fist. “Hey,” I coo, reaching over and stroking his cheek.
“Little man here woke up pissed at the world. A quick diaper change and some steak and eggs in a bottle took care of that. He dozed for a few minutes while I burped him, but he’s been wide awake for about twenty minutes or so.”