Page 50 of Art of Love

Chapter Fifteen

“This is a private jet.” Dylan gasped, adjusting the straps of her well-worn backpack, which held an extra pair of jeans, a T-shirt, sleeping shorts and shirt, and her small makeup bag. She stood staring up at the sleek white plane gleaming under the morning sun, in shock.

“Yeah,” Abe said casually, as if he hadn’t just blown her mind. He slipped his hand into hers, warm and steady. “I thought I told you.”

“You said we were flying,” she whispered. “You didn’t say we were being wined and dined like celebrities.” She blinked up at the luxury aircraft again. “You left that part out.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying her reaction. “Don’t hold it against me.”

“Never,” she whispered as they climbed the stairs.

The interior of the jet was ridiculously plush, with cream leather seats, wood paneling that probably cost more than her car, and a flight attendant who offered them mimosas the second they stepped onboard. Dylan barely had time to sink into her seat before they were airborne, cruising smoothly above the clouds while the attendant brought them warm croissants and fresh fruit like they were royalty.

“Is this your usual travel situation?” she asked, eyeing him over the rim of her mimosa.

Abe smirked. “Only when PR’s paying the bill.”

“Remind me to thank your publicist later,” she muttered.

Abe chuckled and lifted his glass in a mock toast. “Tony will appreciate that. Especially if you say it in public where he can claim full credit.”

Once the jet leveled out at their cruising altitude, a flight attendant brought over a spread that looked like it belonged in a five-star restaurant rather than 35,000 feet in the air. Freshly scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, tiny stacks of pancakes with real maple syrup, and flaky pastries that made Dylan almost forget she was nervous.

“Okay,” she said, biting into a croissant that nearly melted in her mouth. “This is officially the best breakfast I’ve ever had.”

“Better than the scones at Sara’s Nook that you’re so fond of?” he teased, reaching for a slice of melon.

She snorted. “Unless Sara recently started using truffle butter, yeah this wins.”

They ate leisurely, the sky stretched out around them in a soft blue haze. With nowhere to rush off to, and no crowds pressing in, the atmosphere felt almost… intimate.

“So,” she asked between sips of orange juice, “your ranch. Is that where you keep your herd of fans?”

He laughed. “Nope. Just my horses, a dog named Ringo who thinks he’s in charge, and a neighbor who thinks I’m secretly a vampire.”

“That tracks.” She chuckled.

He leaned back, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “The ranch is in Santa Ynez. I bought it a few years ago after I wrapped up my second tour. I needed space to breathe. And hay, apparently.”

She smiled, watching him soften as he spoke. “Sounds peaceful.”

“It is. Mornings there are quiet. I can go a whole day without hearing anything but birds and Carson whining at the fence because he wants carrots. I am getting spoiled by the smell of the ocean at Max and Juliette’s place though.”

“You named your horse Carson?” she grinned.

“Don’t judge. I was going through a phase. I have a few more horses with normal names, like Leo and Carl.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Did you buy the place before or after the underwear ads?”

He shot her a look, amused and mildly horrified. “Don’t bring that up while I’m eating.”

“I mean, it’s a valid career milestone. You’re like a triple threat now. Music, modeling, and… ranching?”

He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “I’m just trying to keep all the parts of my life from burning down at the same time.”

She watched him for a moment, this man who the world saw as polished and untouchable, who somehow still managed to be grounded. Real. Hers, for now.

“You’re doing okay,” she said softly.