–Aspen: Coming now!
Within a few minutes the door to the hall opens and she rushes out, carrying a small black bag stuffed so tight that it looks like a ball. Her eyes are bright, her step springy. She’s in a casual blue T-shirt and denim shorts that show off her long, shapely legs. Her feet are narrow and pretty in flip-flops, and pink nail polish is on her toes.
“Hey,” I say with a smile.
“Hi!” She beams at me. “You could’ve stayed in your car. I know where the visitor lot is.”
“Well, yeah, but what would that make me?” I pull her close to steal a quick kiss.
She flushes. I love how bright her eyes are, how pretty she is when she’s flustered about something as innocent as a peck in public.
“Let me take that for you.” I reach for the bag.
“Thanks. It isn’t that heavy, though,” she says, handing it over.
“Still.” I carry it, putting a hand at the small of her back as we walk to the car.
She tenses for a fraction of a second. The reaction makes me question if I should’ve put my hand on her elbow, but that’s so…distant. Like she’s somebody’s grandma. But then she relaxes into my palm, and I feel like I have everything I could ever want.
I open the door to the Maserati, then wait for her to climb in and shut it. I place her bag in the trunk, settle behind the wheel and get on the road. Aspen is gorgeous and cute, studying the leather interior and surreptitiously running her hands over the seat. I like how she’s confident and carefree but still a little shy.
“Aren’t we going to the beach?” she says after a while.
“Yup.”
“I’m pretty sure this isn’t the way.”
“It is. Trust me.”
“Uh-huh. Are you going to be unhappy if I need to use GPS to give you directions?”
I grin. “All that ‘fragile male ego’ stuff? Doesn’t apply to me. And in any case, no GPS is needed. I know exactly where we’re going.”
She looks skeptical. She wants to say something, but pulls her lips in instead. I try not to laugh. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.
I pull into the hangar at Napa Airport, where the sleek jet I chartered is waiting for us, and stop the car.
She stares out the windshield for a moment, then points at the aircraft. “Uh… That’s not… We aren’t flying in that, are we?”
“Of course we are.”
“But…isn’t that a private jet?” Her voice is thin with shock.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Holy shit. I said I’m broke.”
“So?”
“Broke people don’t fly private.” Her tone says she can’t believe she has to spell it out for me.
“But I do.” And I have every intention of pampering her. She deserves it. “Consider it hitchhiking…? No, wait—plane-pooling!”
She blinks slowly, then bursts out laughing.
“And sharing is good for the environment,” I add with a little shrug. I love the sparkle in her eyes. “Look, whether you were going to come or not, I would’ve chartered a plane.” That much is true. I hate flying commercial. The security alone is enough to drive you insane. “And the fee is the same no matter what. It’s really not a big deal. Didn’t your microecon professor teach you about marginal costs?”
“I think I remember something about it.”
