5. Emma
5
Emma
“ B enedict Kumquat?” a man wearing a beige Grand Canyon Tours polo asks.
“Sorry, what?” Garrett asks with his eyebrows pulled together in confusion.
Me and my gigantic backpack sweep in between the two men, knocking Garrett out of the way. I guess this thing is good for something after all.
“Yes, this is Benedict Kumquat,” I tell the man with the clipboard while motioning to Garrett.
“What!?” I hear Garrett say sharply somewhere behind me followed by a satisfying, “Ow!” when I adjust the strap of my bag and ‘accidentally’ whack him in the shoulder with its full weight.
“And you must be Emma Carlton?”
I nod and watch the man check both of our names off the list. Garrett fumes in my periphery.
We’re instructed to board the nearby helicopter. Doris gives me a big, excited smile as I take my seat and buckle in. Garrett plops down beside me, forcefully enough to signal his irritation but carefully enough not to make any physical contact in the narrow space.
“Benedict Kumquat?” Garrett hisses under his breath.
I shrug but can’t suppress the smug smile that’s tugging at the corners of my lips. “You told me to give them a fake name.”
“And you couldn’t have gone with something a little more believable?”
“Nope.”
Garrett seems to have survived his stint in economy class relatively unscathed. It’s probably been a very long time since that man has had to endure such hardship. I like to imagine him crammed into the middle seat of the very last row next to the bathroom. On his right, a woman has removed her shoes to rub her aching bunion. On his left, a child is using Garrett’s sleeve to wipe the snot from his nose. Then an unexpected malfunction causes his seat to self-eject and launches Garrett off into space to forever orbit the planet, grumbling about the boogers on his sleeve.
Alas, he remains unlaunched and unbothered.
Maybe I should give him a break. It was nice of him to give up his seat. Although, I’m guessing he had ulterior motives. Garrett would probably gladly take a cramped seat and a snotty kid over spending an hour next to me or Doris.
His loss. Doris is awesome. Meeting her this morning has done wonders for my general disposition about this trip. I’m almost starting to think it could be fun.
Almost.
“Fifty minutes to the Grand Canyon, folks,” the pilot announces.
The helicopter gets a wobbly start as it takes off, jostling all of us around. My arm grazes Garrett’s as we all sway to one side of the aircraft, even though I do my best to remain perfectly still in my seat.
It’s the second time we’ve ever touched…not that I’m keeping track.
Ever since our initial handshake, Garrett has always given me a wide berth. He’s not a handsy person (not that any boss really should be), but sometimes I feel like Garrett goes out of his way to avoid even the slightest brush of physical contact with me, like the idea of touching me is completely repulsive. Judging by the uncomfortable look on his face right now, there’s at least a little bit of truth to my suspicion.
Garrett shifts away from me, but it’s no use. His broad, muscular shoulders take up too much space. At six-foot-three, these seats weren’t exactly made for someone like him. I’m a mere five-foot-six, but my curves occupy every last inch of the narrow space allotted. There’s no hope for either of us.
When the chopper lands fifty minutes later, Garrett practically leaps out of his seat, putting as much space between us as possible.
Chill, buddy , I think to myself, rolling my eyes discreetly.
As far as physical contact goes, shoulders are pretty innocuous. Don’t get me wrong…I’ll still scrub that patch of skin a little harder than the rest of me as soon as I get the chance to shower, but it’s not like we humped our way across state lines.
Okay, ew. I’ll also be scrubbing whichever part of my brain came up with that thought.
Everyone files out of the helicopter. As soon as my foot hits the reddish-brown dirt and my eyes focus on the sparkling blue water slicing through the steep canyon walls, I forget all the reasons I was irritated about this trip. I even forget about my evil boss. Because this …this is seriously amazing.
Garrett is standing a few feet away. We stare off in the same direction and squint at the sunlight reflecting off the water.
“Ever been to the Grand Canyon before?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Well, this isn’t a bad place to start,” Garrett says.
When I glance over at him, the smile on his face catches me by surprise. It’s not directed at me, but at the sweeping view in front of us.
Our eyes connect for a brief second, and my stomach tilts. Or maybe it’s the world that tilts under my feet because for a fleeting moment I’m not sure which view is better: this beautiful place, or the smile it puts on Garrett North’s face.
I try to hate that smile, I really do. But what I hate the most is how good it looks on him.