Vivian Graves is Hollywood royalty. I’m sitting on a private jet with Vivian Graves’ son. Releasing an astonished breath, I shake my head and focus on the window.
“You are something else, Graves.”
“What about your family? I take it by your reaction, you don’t have any secret famous relatives?”
My stomach twists and I recite the rehearsed answer I keep on deck for anyone who asks.
“Parents are dead, not that they were around much. But I have Nan. She’s my family.”
“Your grandmother sounds lovely.”
I snort. “She’d kick you in the shin if she heard you say that. And she’s not my grandmother. Not by blood, anyway. She was my childhood neighbor and she took pity on me. She didn’t have kids, and I didn’t really have parents. I owe her everything.”
Noah smiles, his eyes twinkling with the sincerity I’ve seen before. “Then I’m glad you found each other.”
Phillip comes by with another tray, this time with some snacks, and lets us know they’ll be preparing to take off soon.
“Is there anything I can get you before we’re in the air?”
“I’m all set,” I say, reaching for my seatbelt. The buckle is tight and I struggle to slide it along the cloth strap.
“Here, let me,” Noah says, leaning over to help. His hands brush over the top of mine, and I suck in a breath. The juniper scent I noticed that day in the elevator wafts up from his hair as he works the belt looser with expert patience. I press my head against the support and stare at the ceiling, holding my breath until he’s done. The lightclickof the belt locking into place sends my heart rate up, as does Noah’s hand brushing my thigh as he pushes back into his own seat.
“Thanks,” I squeak, my lungs aching for air.
“No problem. I know they can be kind of tricky,” he says, clicking his own into place.
Tricky, indeed.
The plane rolling down the runway keeps my gaze locked on the window as I work to steady my breath and lower my heart rate.God dammit this is going to be a long trip.I grip the arm rests as the plane lifts, loving the way my stomach drops with the motion. I haven’t flown in years, but take off and landing are always my favorite parts.
“What did you tell your mom?” I ask, as the clouds close in around us and we ascend higher.
Noah looks at me with a frown creasing his brow, his head cocked in confusion.
“When she asked about making time for a visit?”
“Oh.” He laughs. “I told her I would see what I could do. I mentioned that our itinerary is pretty tight and I didn’t know if we’d have time for the drive.”
“We?”
He laughs again. “You were also invited. As soon as I mentioned I wasn’t alone on the trip, she extended a warm welcome to you.”
I clasp my hands up by my shoulder and bat my lashes. “You’ve told your mom about me? I’m flattered.”
In a beat, he blinks and responds, his words pulling an electric current up my spine. “You should be. You’re worth mentioning. Not everyone is.”
My brain short circuits, trying to figure out how to respond to his compliment. I’m not usually left speechless, but something about Noah and the way he balances the sincerity of his compliments sends me off the deep end. Every. Damn. Time.
“Well, as long as she doesn’t have any stairs for me to throw myself down.”
Our laughter breaks the tension, but only just. Phillip comes by at the perfect moment, toting another tray of champagne flutes.
“Phillip, my man,” I say, a little too loudly.
He chuckles and leans over so I can take one of the glasses.
“Do you have any orange juice for this? It is a tad early for straight booze. I’ll feel so much better if I can call it a mimosa.”
