Page 27 of The Stowaway


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He gave me a side squeeze. “Good thing I like dorks.”

I smirked back. “Good thing I like cantankerous old men.”

He could’ve scowled or narrowed his eyes. Instead, his eyes flashed with amusement and affection, and he dipped down and kissed me.

“A very good thing.”

Sigh.

Had I been a teenager, I would’ve called him dreamy and doodled my first name next to his last.

But I was a mature adult, so…

He was such a good kisser, though. Goddamn. He did the slow, soft pecks at first, as if testing the waters, and thenhe applied pressure and lingered longer, deepening the kiss, seducing me, reducing me to—crap. Not now. We were in public, and I could fantasize about this later. When we had time for more than chaste smooches.

James guided me to the right area, where a security guard waited for us. Based on the brief exchange and barely there intro, James had called in a favor to get me a private room.

“Absolutely. Right back here.” The guard opened a door and gestured for us to go through, and James withdrew his arm from me.

Which reminded me. Were we official or… I mean… Did he wanna hide things until we knew if this was something we wanted to run with?

That was something I could overthink later tonight when I missed him. In the meantime—oh my God!

“Dad!” Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. It was him. The burgundy hoodie he refused to part with, those laugh lines, ratty old jeans for when he tinkered with his plane. I ran for him—which didn’t take long. The room looked like a interrogation room, and it was tiny. Then, I was in his arms.Gah.The familiar scent of his aftershave invaded my senses, my eyes welled up, and everything became almost too much.

“My little Talon.” The emotion in his voice made me choke up, ’cause Dad never freaking cried. “Thank fuck—you’re finally home.”

I sniffled and screwed my eyes shut.

I’m home.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again, I’ll tell you that,” he said thickly.

I croaked a laugh and tightened my arms around his neck. “It’s so good to see you, Dad.”

“I have no words, sweetheart. Fucking hell.” He squeezed me harder, only to inch back abruptly and cup my face in his hands. “Let me look at you.”

I smiled and wiped at my cheeks, and I could barely believe it. He was here. He looked exactly the same. Maybe a few more wrinkles. His buzzed hair had been gray for years already, but it wouldn’t surprise me if the last six months had made him lose a few strands.

He hugged me tightly again.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” I croaked.

He shook his head. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. You’ll hear what I have to say about our system in these situations soon enough, so I’ll be the one apologizing.”

Oh God, I could only imagine. James had given me some grim stats already.

Speaking of.

“I want you to meet the man who rescued me, Dad.” I sniffled again and eased away, and I turned toward James, who leaned patiently against the wall by the door. “This is James, the guy I told you about in Germany.”

Dad cleared his throat and scrubbed a hand over his mouth, and then he stepped forward to shake James’s hand. “I owe you everything, Mr. Hyatt.”

James extended his hand too. “Nonsense. She did most of the work herself. She hid in my helicopter.”

“So I’ve heard,” Dad chuckled gruffly. “I’m still eternally grateful.” He took a step back. “I hear you’re former Air Force too?”

Maybe I’d spilled. Maybe I knew exactly what to say to put my dad in a good mood. Doing the groundwork, so to speak. Planting a seed, smoothing things over, buttering him up, et cetera.