Ali snorted so loudly she nearly dropped her phone. She texted back a string of heart emojis and a“you’re a lifesaver”before marking the appointment in her calendar with six exclamation points.
Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.
Dress
Dylan
Dylan grabbed his duffle from the overhead bin the second the seatbelt light dinged off, muttering a quick thanks to the flight attendant as he moved toward the front of the plane. His heart was already racing, thumping out a beat that had nothing to do with altitude.
He cleared the jet bridge and headed straight for the rental car counter, weaving through the sleepy little Savannah airport with practiced efficiency. Cap low, hoodie up, head down.
No lingering. No stopping. Just get through, get to the car, get to—
Then he saw her.
Bright pink. Wavy blonde curls. Bottom lip caught between her teeth as she scanned the arrivals area like she was searching for someone who might already be looking at her.
Dylan froze mid-step.
Ali.
His chest tightened, and a grin broke across his face before he could stop it. Thatwasher. She was here. Waiting for him.
And holyhell—those shoes.
His gaze dropped automatically, eyes widening at the sight of her short legs wrapped in strappy, towering, six-inch sandals that did things to him he wasn’t prepared for in public.
His girl who hated heels. His girl who once tripped wearing kitten wedges at a semi-formal and declared “gravity is a myth perpetuated by thin people.”
She was in full Barbie bombshell mode. He was semi-hard from thirty feet away.
She had to have borrowed them from Abigail. Had to. No way she owned shoes like that.
But she was wearing them. For him.
And that made him want to do very,veryunholy things the second they were alone.
Then she spotted him.
Her eyes locked on his, wide and shining and full of something that hit him straight in the damn chest.
She looked like she was about to run—like she wanted to—but then her gaze flicked downward, just for a second, and he saw the exact moment she remembered the heels.
Ali Presley in six-inch sandals wasn’t built for a sprint. But damn if she didn’t start a determined fast-walk anyway, like she couldn’t stand one more second of distance between them.
It was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.
And it completely undid him.
Dylan didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. Hetook off—breaking into a sprint across the terminal floor, ignoring the curious looks and the startled airport staff and the fact that he was definitely going to get stopped by security if he kept this up.
She barely had time to gasp before he was there, dropping his duffle with athud, cupping her face in his hands, and crashing his mouth against hers like he’d been starving for it.
Ali melted into him, arms winding tight around his shoulders, her body going soft and desperate in all the ways he loved.
He grabbed her hips, lifting her effortlessly, and she wrapped her legs around his waist like it was second nature. Like she’d been waiting for this moment as long as he had.
“Hi,” she whispered between kisses, breathless and a little teary.
