Chapter 32
Garrison looks far morecomfortable behind the wheel of the sleek rental car than he ever has the one in the farm truck. I can’t help but stare at him as we drive, greedy for more of him after suffering this past week.
He’s upset beneath all the nonchalance he’s attempting to portray. The corners of his mouth pull down every few moments before he remembers to readjust them into a firm line, and while he may be trying to concentrate on not tensing his jaw, I’ve spent too much time staring at it not to notice when his control slips.
I’m used to seeing his hair styled to perfection with a perfect front swoop and not a stray hair out of place, regardless of the circumstance, but there’s no swoop today. He doesn’t look like a mess, but I’ve spent enough time with him to notice when he’s not himself.
The radio plays softly, and the dark leather seats hug me in a way that only comes from luxury options. There’s a screen bigger than any I’ve ever seen in the centre of the dash with the GPS open to a map of the area, but no location locked in or directions loaded.
“Where are we going?” I ask, not recognizing the road we’ve turned onto.
My car was left behind in the parking lot of the restaurant. Garrison told me it would be taken care of and brought back to Cherry Peak, and I believe him, even if he could very well be lying in order to get me to forget about the damn thing until it gets towed away. He did a crap job of hiding his disgusted expression when he did a full inspection of it the first time he saw it, and if I didn’t feel the same way about the old thing, I’d have given him a mouthful of attitude for the judgment.
Maybe he’ll buy me a new one in an effort to gain my forgiveness.
“We’re going somewhere I can grovel,” he says, glancing over at me.
I frown when his eyes remain hidden beneath the pair of black, thick-rimmed sunglasses he slipped on when we slid into the car. He’s ridiculously attractive with little effort but even more so with those sunglasses on. Paired with the dress shirt that he’s rolled up twice over his forearms and left partially unbuttoned to expose the first few inches of his chest, it’s beginning to feel impossible to stay upset with him.
Wouldn’t it just be easier to urge him to pull over and climb onto his lap instead?
No. It wouldn’t.
Huffing a breath, I turn away from him and stare out the passenger window. “Do you even know what it means to grovel? Or why you need to in the first place? It probably would have been smarter for me not to agree to go anywhere with you without a serious apology.”
He nods tensely. “I can’t say that I’ve ever had to grovel for anything or anyone in my life, Poppy. But I’m a quick study. And as far as why I need to . . . I thought that was obvious to the both of us.”
“I want to hear you say it,” I reply stubbornly, even as his statement of never having to do something like this for anyone else but me makes my heart sing in triumph.
He inhales slowly, calmly. “I’m sorry, Poppy. I hurt you. I walked out when you asked me for nothing but honesty, and it was the wrong move. I knew it was wrong the moment I left, but I’m a stubborn bastard with an ego the size of the sun, and quite frankly, you scared the shit out of me. You’ve been scaring the shit out of me. If I could go back, I’d tell you the truth and promise never to walk out on you again. But I can’t go back. Only forward. So, now, I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance to earn your forgiveness, because I—because I don’t want to spend the next few weeks without you.”
The admission is a blow to the chest, but I don’t give myself a chance to focus on it yet. Not until I know everything.
“And what is the truth, Garrison? Because you called yourself my boyfriend back there, and that seems to be a conversation that we’ve skipped entirely.”
I sneak a glance at him and find his cheeks flushed a soft pink. He grips the steering wheel tight, but not angrily.
“Seeing you with that guy upset me. Fuck, it more than upset me. It pissed me off and turned me into a raging, possessive beast. You’re not supposed to be on dates with other men, Poppy. Only me. I’m the only man you should be gifting your time to.”
He stares at me, waving a hand up and down the empty space between us. “Look at you. Christ, you dressed up for him. Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are on a normal day, let alone right now? Wearing that dress and those shoes that make your legs look a million miles long? I’ve wanted that lip gloss smeared all over my mouth like a brand since the moment I saw you sitting there with him.”
My heart threatens to burst free of my chest. The heat in his stare is almost too much. It sucks the air from my lungs, filling me with him and only him. Every word he speaks is more than I anticipated. The sincerity in them is shattering, almost hard to take in all at once.
“Are you saying that you have feelings for me? Real ones? I asked you back home whether you get this possessive over all of your fuck buddies. Is that what this is?”
I hold my breath and wait for him to respond. I’m being extra cautious, more so than I’ve ever been with a man. But this feels different than it has in the past. I have to know for sure if what he’s explaining is what I hope it is before I allow myself to get whisked away in the fantasy of being with him just to find myself heartbroken in a few days’ time.
“Yeah, honey. I have real damn feelings for you. That’s why I’m here when I know I shouldn’t be.”
“And the washer and dryer?”
He chuckles, the sound of it striking at my already weak will. “Absolutely not nothing.”
“They’re beautiful, by the way. I’ve never had cleaner clothes,” I murmur.
He reaches across the console and grabs my hand from my lap, intertwining our fingers before resting them on his thigh. I don’t stop him.
“Yeah? Good.”
“I would have been fine with a much cheaper kind, though.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “I wouldn’t have been.”
I don’t have a fitting reply to that. I’m too scrambled inside. The last thing I want is to give in too easily. He has to work for it a bit, even if I’m dying to tell him that I fear my feelings may be far stronger for him than his are for me.
“I suppose you want to know how I feel now?”
His thumb strokes the back of my hand. “It would be appreciated.”
“Let’s see what you have planned for me first,” I say.
“Patience has never been my specialty, Poppy.”
I turn my head and lift a daring brow at him. “Looks like you’ll have to learn, then.”
A smile parts my lips when he lifts our hands to his mouth and nips at my knuckles.
“Yeah, I guess I will.”
“Why are we at the airport?”I ask, my tone lighter than I anticipated.
Garrison smirks, releasing my hand to put the car in park. “I’m grovelling, honey.”
“What?”
“Wait here.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to reply before he’s out of the car and rounding the hood to get to my side. Opening my door, he extends his hand, and I take it, ignoring how shaky I am.
“Don’t be nervous. You’ll like what I have planned,” he assures me.
The airport is small, a far cry from the one in Calgary. Only a few cars are in the parking lot, but the roaring noise of airplane engines is still there.
I step out of the car, and Garrison leads me to the trunk. He pops it, and my brows jump at the first sight of the carry-on bag and suitcases tucked inside. The shiny black suitcase on the left that looks brand new must be his because the pastel purple one with scuffs on every corner and a dent on the front is mine.
“I hope you at least packed my favourite underwear,” I say, watching as he lifts them both from the trunk and sets their wheels on the pavement before looping the carry-on over the handle of his.
It doesn’t worry me at all that he could have been wandering around my house, snooping in all my drawers, and I take that as a good sign.
“Bryce packed your bag. I wouldn’t have put a single pair inside.”
A laugh bubbles up my throat. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”
He closes the truck and grabs both suitcase handles before leading the way to the airport. His sunglasses are tucked by the arm into the open collar of his shirt, and I have to look away before I combust. He’s an asshole for looking like this right now, and I think he knows it.
Shifting closer to him, I ask, “How did you manage to get Bryce to help you pack my bag? She’s not exactly your biggest fan.”
“Johnny has a way with people.”
“That explains it. Does everyone know where we’re going?”
“Yes. You don’t have to worry about anything. The studio is covered as well. I assumed that would be your biggest concern.”
“Shit! My job!” I shout, halting on the pavement. “How did I forget about the studio? I can’t leave it closed for— How long are we even going to be gone for, Garrison? And then there’s Wade! You can’t abandon the ranch either. Take us back. You can grovel at home.”
Garrison’s expression remains calm, but I spy the hint of humour lightening the green of his eyes. Releasing his suitcase, he tugs me close by the waist and tips his head to brush his lips over my forehead.
“Take a breath, honey. We’re fine. I’ve already taken care of everything. I’ve got you.”
I lean into his touch, starved for it. “Everything?”
“Yes, everything. The studio will be open just like normal, and Wade has already given his approval for me to go. There’s no loose ends here. I promise.”
My eyes shut of their own accord, and I sigh, nodding softly enough not to lose the feel of his lips on my skin. “I’ll want to call everyone to check in while we’re gone.”
“Of course.”
“Alright. We can go, then.”
He gives my waist a squeeze before releasing me and grabbing the suitcase handle again. Maybe I should offer to take my own suitcase, but I’m liking him doing things for me right now. It feels appropriate.
Once we get inside the airport, my curiosity takes over. Bypassing the entirety of the main check-in area, Garrison pulls two passports out of his carry-on and hands me mine. He leads us toward a separate section of the airport, and we move through security at a quick pace.
“You’re going to have to tell me where we’re going sooner or later,” I warn him, my head whipping in every direction as I try to find something to expose our destination.
He only smiles, staying quiet. I keep up with his long strides, too antsy to linger behind him. The walk through the airport is quick, but once we get to a set of doors that lead directly onto the tarmac, I grow still.
“If you’re about to drop that we’re taking a private plane to wherever it is we’re going, I may pass out,” I warn him.
His grin is tamed yet somehow pulse skipping. “Should I just carry you out now, then?”
“Garrison!” I squeal, my eyes wide and flicking over every inch of the tarmac.
We head outside and turn left toward a slim black-and-gold plane with Swift Edge Records written in white along its side. The door is open, a staircase waiting. I twist, staring up at him in question.
“Yeah, baby. That’s our plane.”
My stomach fill with butterflies to the point of bursting. It’s a task to keep my expression even mildly neutral when all I want is to kiss the hell out of him. I’m supposed to be making him work for his forgiveness, but he’s already off to a great start.
He gives me a look that tells me he doesn’t believe my calm expression, but I don’t care.
“Can we board now?”
Tipping his chin in confirmation, he bumps my shoulder with his. “Go for it. They’re ready for you.”
I don’t need to be told twice.