3. Hope
“You can always tella real friend: When you’ve made a fool of yourself, he doesn’t feel you’ve done a permanent job.” ~Laurence J. Peter
My plane touches down promptly in Santa Barbara as the clock strikes one in the afternoon. The airport is smaller than the one in Phoenix, but it has a warm, charming feel with its patterned floor tiles and colorful Spanish murals. After taking sixteen minutes to deboard—I let everyone get off before me so I could mosey off the plane in peace—I locate an elevator to get to the first floor.
A young family consisting of a mom, dad, and three kids under the age of five join me inside, making it a tight squeeze, especially with a double stroller in tow. I had considered taking the escalator, but I decided it’d be safer for myself and everyone around me if I stayed away from moving objects. With over nine pounds of clothing on, it would only take one wrong step to get me falling. And unlike Humpty Dumpty, I do not have a posse of horses and men to put me back together again.
But I do have one man waiting to pick me up at baggage claim.
After the elevator doors open and I step outside, I scan the area for signs of my vacation… associate. I’m not sure what else to call Amelia’s brother. Colleague doesn’t seem right considering this is a trip for pleasure, not work. Buddy feels too chummy for someone I haven’t seen in a dozen years. Partner is a bit too formal, as if we’re relying on one another in some kind of symbiotic relationship—which we so are not.
After a handful of less-than-stellar relationships in my twenties, I am not looking to have a connection with any man—except for Jesus, of course. I’ve declared this year to be my sabbatical from dating; both Amelia and I have. More specifically, this is my time off from unrealistic expectations, inevitable disappointments, and miserable broken hearts. The only romance I’ll be experiencing will be vicariously through the books I read, which always have happy endings.
So, I’m relieved that Shane and I will be like two ships passing in the night—er, airport. Just two people who happened to get thrown into a situation together by a mutual connection. Nothing more, nothing less.
Then why is my heart pounding like I just ran a mile? Or so I assume since it’s been a while since I did cardio of any sort. I take a deep breath and walk toward the baggage claim area. Passengers stand around eyeing the luggage of all sizes and colors as they tumble out onto the conveyor for my flight. My insides feel like the bags, tossing and turning about. What is going on with me? Why am I so anxious? Maybe all these layers of clothing are making me claustrophobic.
“Hey, miss, are you lost?” A tall man with a blond buzz cut approaches me, giving me a curious grin. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”
“Oh, um, no, I’m not lost—yet.” I return his smile, thankful for a friendly face. “I’m just waiting for my bag like everyone else. Thanks for your concern.”
“I’d be happy to grab it for you if you see it.” He gestures to a small black duffel bag near his sneakers. “I already got mine.”
“That’s really nice of you. I certainly wouldn’t mind the help. Lifting a fifty-nine-pound bag is quite the workout. Make that fifty pounds now—that’s what I got it down to before I checked it in.”
“Fifty pounds? What do you have in there, gold bars?”
“Ha! I wish. Amelia—that’s my best friend—wouldn’t mind at all if I gave her gold for her birthday. She’s always loved jewelry. My bag’s a little heavy because of the gift I got her. Nothing as valuable as gold, but I think it’s precious in a different way.”
“Precious, huh? Then we better make sure your bag gets into the right hands. Which one is it?”
I crane my neck to look around the people in front of me. “It’s a big green one. Mint green, to be exact. I tied a purple ribbon around the handle so it’s easy to spot.”
“Smart move.” He winks his approval before turning back toward the carousel. “Hey, I think I see it. Hang on, I’ll go grab it for you.”
“Thank you so much. I’ll watch your bag for you,” I offer as he walks away.
The tension in my body loosens up and I find myself smiling. Despite my earlier predicament, I’m feeling pretty thankful right now for the kindness of strangers. Whoever this man is, he’s helping me out of the goodness of his heart. His gesture reminds me of Shane, someone else who’s also doing me a favor. Sure, he’s doing it for Amelia’s sake, but I’m grateful he’s willing to do it at all.
Let’s just hope he’s outgrown the pranks he used to pull on me.
“Hope?”
The deep, smooth-as-melted-chocolate voice calling my name sends tingles down my back. I don’t recognize it, but I obediently look around for its owner. I picture a tall, dark, and handsome hunk like the ones that grace the covers of the romance books that my book club girls and I love to read. The non-illustrated covers though since the illustrated ones tend to be faceless, and it would be nice to put a face to this voice.
“Hope! Hey, it really is you.”
The voice is standing before me now, all six feet of it—I mean, him. He’s as masculine and sexy as he sounds, with a hint of boyish charm. I furrow my brows as I study his features—his long-lashed hazel eyes, straight nose, and square jawline. There’s something familiar about him that I can’t quite place.
Does he know me from work? He’s much too young to be a student’s parent, although it’s not impossible. Or maybe was he a fellow passenger from the plane? I know I’ve seen that adorable, crooked smile of his before somewhere.
“Hi, are you talking to me?” I ask and point to myself. “I feel like we’ve met, but I can’t seem to remember where.”
His grin disappears as he places a hand dramatically over his heart. “Are you serious? I had no idea I was that forgettable.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean that at all! It’s just that I have the worst memory when it comes to faces. It’s a thing called aphantasia. I can’t picture things clearly in my mind; all I see are fuzzy images. I always tell people I’d make the worst eyewitness. No matter how gorgeous your face might be, I’d be hard pressed to remember it.”
His thick brows quirk in surprise. “You think my face is gorgeous?”
Did I say that out loud?I cover my warm cheeks with my hands. “I meant gorgeous in a purely objective and platonic way. Like how a sunset is gorgeous. Or a waterfall. Or autumn leaves on a tree.”
“Wow, I’ll take those comparisons any day. I appreciate the purely objective and platonic compliment. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome,” I reply in amazement at how he just turned an embarrassing situation around and, in my favor, no less.
This man is gorgeous, charming, and smart?
Whoever he is, he has such an easy way about him. He’s what the girls in my book club would call a “cinnamon roll hero”. The kind of guys we love reading about who would help you organize your bookshelf by color or bring you homemade chicken noodle soup when you’re sick. I can’t believe I’m meeting such a man in real life. If only I could remember where I know him from.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other and cock my head to study him. His broad shoulders and toned torso fill out his T-shirt just right and the muscles on his forearms flex with impressive strength. But it’s the saying on his shirt—”I don’t know how to act my age; I’ve never been this old before”—that makes him even more appealing. I love a man with a good sense of humor, and this one obviously knows how to make people laugh. I’m even more curious now to know who he is.
“So,” I say, giving him a smile, “now that we’ve established how gorgeous you are in a purely objective and platonic way, would you mind refreshing my memory a bit? How do you know my name?”
He runs a hand along his five o’clock shadow, looking thoughtful. “I not only know your name, I also know your favorite book is Anne of Green Gables and you always disliked your red hair, just like Anne did.”
“H-how did you know that?” I glance around, wondering if I’m being pranked. Did Amelia set this up? “Is there a hidden camera somewhere? Are we on some kind of reality show?”
Crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes as his grin widens. “No, but that would be fun. I’ve been known to enjoy a good prank now and then.”
I suck in a sharp breath. All the alarms go off in my brain like there’s a five-alarm fire burning in the vicinity. Probably because there is, specifically one that’s housed inside of my body and quickly spreading from my toes to my cheeks. My mind is finally catching on to what I’m seeing, and the realization shocks me to my core—this gorgeous man is Shane Morgan?!
Oh yes, Amelia totally set this up, but the punch line is not like anything I’d expected. Her words come back to me: He’s not that little anymore, Hope. Well, that is the understatement of the century! Nothing could have prepared me for this version of Shane. Where’s the lanky, goofy teenager who used to pull my hair and call me Carrots? How did he turn into this fully grown man with a charming personality and a great sense of humor?
My mouth goes dry. I’m literally speechless and so embarrassed that I didn’t recognize my best friend’s little brother. Even worse, I cannot believe I have been semi-flirting with him. That thought makes me shiver beneath my dozen layers of clothing. At least I didn’t do something totally romance-novel-worthy like bat my eyelashes at him or swoon at his feet. It’s time to put on my big girl pants—metaphorically speaking, because I cannot wear one more thing—and figure out a way to gracefully backpedal out of this situation.
“Hey, Shaney, it’s nice to see you.” I squeeze out a sheepish smile. “You’ll have to forgive me for not recognizing you. I didn’t forget you, I promise. I just didn’t expect you to be so tall and grown and?—”
“Gorgeous?” His long, curly lashes flutter like butterfly wings as he bats them in my direction. “In a purely objective and platonic way, of course.”
A long groan escapes my lips. “You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?”
“Nope.” His smirk turns mischievous. “But all is forgiven—as long as you don’t call me Shaney. No one’s called me that since you left for college.”
“And I can only imagine how much you’ve missed hearing it.” I bump his elbow playfully, pleasantly surprised that our banter hasn’t changed much in the dozen years that we’ve been apart. Meeting up with Shane is like revisiting a piece of my past; it’s nostalgic and comfortable. Of course, he can’t take my best friend’s place, but he’s not a bad substitute. “Thanks for stepping in for Amelia. I know it was a lot to ask of you to drive down to pick me up. I hope this didn’t ruin any plans you had.”
“Naw, it’s all good. It’s not every day that I get to hang out with my sister’s best friend. I’m sure there are worse ways to spend my days off,” he adds with a wink.
I laugh drolly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I suppose we’re even now. Come on, let’s get going.” He smiles and picks up the duffle bag at my feet. “Is this all you brought?”
“That’s actually not mine. It belongs to the guy who’s helping me get my suitcase. It’s weird that he’s not back yet.”
I glance around for my “random acts of kindness” stranger to see if he’s located my luggage. That’s when I notice the carousel is a lot emptier than it was minutes ago. Shane and I are among a handful of people left at the baggage claim, and there’s no sign of my good Samaritan anywhere.
My stomach drops. “Uh, Shane, I don’t see the guy or my luggage. Where did they go?!”