No.
He looked at the gate screen and saw the same word repeated there. A commotion began around him as fellow travelers realized their plans had been upended.
A line was already forming at the desk near the jet bridge. Aiden hopped on his phone and checked the radar. He knew he’d been cutting it close. But the storm was slow moving, hanging over Georgia for two days. Now it appeared to be moving faster, however.
Further investigation showed the Charleston airport had closed. He’d have to book another flight, no earlier than tomorrow—and that was if he was lucky. The timing would be tricky because once the Charleston airport was open, it would be only a matter of hours before the storm would close this airport.
Driving home was a last resort. Even without the storm, it was a five-hour drive. And with all the inlets and rivers, he could almost count on flooding. No, it would be better to take his chances with the airlines.
Tomorrow was Sunday; his business was closed anyway. The ESTA ceremony wasn’t until Tuesday, and since he was up for the award, he had to be there. But he should be fine. He waited in line at the desk and tried to be patient while other travelers rearranged their plans.
When it was finally his turn he rebooked for the next evening. The storm would be out of Charleston and not yet here, in full force at least. Maybe it would even dissipate, as often happened as they moved north.
New schedule in hand, he hitched his backpack onto his shoulder and turned his thoughts to accommodations. With the approaching storm and canceled flights, hotels would be booked. The Fosters’ beach house wasn’t far away. Everyone would be long gone by now.
He’d have to get another rental car, but that wasn’t a big deal. He checked his watch. Too late to bother the Fosters with a call, but they wouldn’t mind his bunking there for the night. And he knew just where they kept the spare key.
chapter five
Sophie had no idea how long she’d been trying to fall asleep, but it had been a while. She turned over in bed, nudging Pippa aside with her knee. The dog didn’t even stir.
It had been an exciting, emotional day, so it would make sense if she were lying here reminiscing about how beautiful Jenna looked as she walked down the aisle or about the sweet expression that fell over Grant’s face as he watched his bride approach.
It would even make sense if she were anticipating the opening of her bookshop—her dreams finally coming to fruition at the ripe, old age of twenty-five. Or excited about being on her own for the first time ever. She had so much to look forward to.
But none of those things were stealing her thoughts tonight. It was the memory of Aiden’s hands at the small of her back. The soft scrape of his voice in her ear. The plaintive look in his soulful eyes as he’d apologized.
That’s right. He apologized. I’ve forgiven him. The end.
Sophie shifted again, trying to find a comfortable spot on the pillow, which hadn’t given her a moment’s trouble the past two nights.
Rain pattered on the roof, falling steadily now. She was thankful the weather wouldn’t prevent her from starting on her shop tomorrow. She already had five gallons of Coastal Blue waiting in her store, along with primer, rollers, brushes, tape, tarps, and a six-foot ladder.
An image of Aiden’s face flashed in her mind. The way he’d stared at her when they were dancing, all his usual bluff and bluster nowhere to be seen. His eyes had gone soft, full of concern. Regret etched clearly on the planes of his face.
Where was all that regret when he’d left her, plate full and already overwhelmed by her responsibilities? Where was he when she was up nights with her mom, helping Seth through calculus, and dealing with Jenna and her lack of regard for her curfew?
A soft thump sounded over the patter of rain. Sophie opened her eyes to the darkness, listening. Probably just normal house sounds. The past two nights there had been four other girls bumping around, so Sophie wasn’t necessarily familiar with the house’s creaks and clanks.
Something thumped and Sophie bolted upright. Her heart knocked against her ribs, heavy and fast. It sounded as if it had come from the entryway. Maybe it was just the wind, knocking tree branches against the house. Maybe it hadn’t been as loud as she’d imagined—Pippa still slept undisturbed after all.
But those assurances did nothing to settle her pulse or slow the speed of her thoughts. Especially since no trees stood near the house. Besides, Pippa had once slept through a blaring fire truck siren when her neighbor had a middle-of-the-night emergency.
Another thump had Sophie snatching her phone off the nightstand, her feet sliding to the floor. That one had definitely come from the entry. She stood, clutching her phone to her chest. Should she call 911? She’d peek out her bedroom door first to see if anything was amiss. She dialed the first two numbers before making her way across the cool wood floor.
The air-conditioning kicked on, the sudden sound making her jump. Maybe that’s all the noises had been—the machinations of the cooling unit. As she inched her way to the door, she was grateful that the humming covered the sounds of her movement. But it would also hide the sounds of a potential intruder.
She eased open the door and winced as the hinges creaked. Back on the bed, Pippa remained a still shadow, huddled near the head of the bed.
Sophie peeked out the doorway and into the short hallway. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but a little light snuck in from the windows in the living room. She’d have to go farther.
She padded down the hallway, along the right-hand wall, her breaths coming in quiet little pants now. When she reached the living room threshold, Sophie swept her gaze over the darkened space. No moving shadows that she could see.
A noise sounded to her right. The front door. The knob clicked.
She lurched for a weapon on the entry table. Her hands closed around something. She raised it over her head, wishing she’d taken time to dial that final “1.”
Too late now. A hulking shadow came through the doorway.
She brought the object down hard. It shattered on contact as a scream tore from her throat.
“What the—?”
In a blink she was knocked back against the foyer wall. Weight pressing. Arm at her throat.
She grabbed at it, pulling, but her efforts were ineffectual. He was big and strong, towering over her. A thousand pounds of pressure. Her legs trapped.
She couldn’t scream. Couldn’t breathe.
Shuffling sounds. Then a light, bright and glaring.
Her wide eyes fixed on a male face. A familiar face.
“Aiden?” she tried to say, but nothing came out.
He blinked down at her, the hardened mask slipping away. He dropped his arms and backed away. “Sophie. What are you doing here?”
Air. She dragged in a breath. Intense relief slumped her shoulders. Thank God it was only Aiden. For a minute she’d thought she was a goner. Her lungs expanded again and again, trying to keep pace with her rattled heart.
“What are you doing here?” Irritation rose over the feeling of relief. “You’re supposed to be on your way home.”
“My flight got canceled. I thought I’d bunk here.”
“Ever heard of a hotel?”
“I didn’t think the Fosters would mind. Why are you still here?”
“The Fosters gave me permission to stay while I renovate my shop,” she said in a tone that conveyed she had the owners’ consent.