Chapter 46 Emily
EMILY
Iwoke to the feeling of a hand on my shoulder, shaking gently.
“Em, sweetheart. Come on. I need you to wake up.”
That voice sounded entirely too awake. I cracked an eyelid.
Cam’s bedroom was steeped in the gloomy gray shadows of pre-dawn, which was too-fucking-early o’clock for me.
“Go away,” I mumbled into the pillow. “It’s the middle of the night. This is illegal.”
“It’s nearly five in the morning.” Cam gave my shoulder a firmer nudge. “You need to get up and pack a bag.”
That got my attention. My eyes snapped open, blinking rapidly as I tried to clear the fog in my brain. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, hair falling into my face in a chaotic curtain.
“Pack a bag?” I repeated, squinting at him. “Why? Is the house burning down? Are we fugitives from the law all of a sudden?”
He chuckled as he stepped back, flipping the hallway light on.
I hissed at the sudden brightness, shielding my eyes like a vampire ducking the dawn.
He looked annoyingly good, already dressed in jeans and a Henley that hugged his broad chest, looking ready to tackle a double shift moving furniture while I could barely remember my own name.
“No fires. No felonies.” He leaned against the door frame. “It’s a surprise, and if you’re not ready in,” he glanced down at his watch, “thirty minutes, you’re gonna miss it.”
“Thirty minutes!” I squawked. “A surprise trip? Now?” I bolted upright, tangled in the sheets. “Cam, I haven’t even had coffee. How am I supposed to pack? How many nights? Do I need a swimsuit? A parka? A ballgown?”
“I’ve got the coffee brewing. One night. Comfortable. Casual. Maybe something nice for dinner.” He pushed off the doorframe. “And you now have exactly twenty-nine minutes to get it done before we hit the road.”
I scrambled out of bed, hunting around on the floor for my clothes, my heart fluttering as I raced downstairs, slipped my feet into my shoes and bolted out the door.
I made it back with two minutes to spare, throwing my overnight bag at Cam and clambering into his truck, still a little dazed.
“Now are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I asked when he slipped into the driver’s seat.
“Nope.”
“You know the suspense is killing me, right?”
“Yep.” He passed me a travel mug. The scent of dark roast hit my nose, and I actually whimpered. His gaze dropped to my mouth, heat flaring in his eyes.
“You do that again and we won’t get to where we’re going.”
“And where is that, again?”
He didn’t reply, simply shifted the truck into gear and backed out of his drive.
I spent the better part of the drive vibrating in the passenger seat. My mouth moved faster than my brain as I lobbed guesses at him like tennis balls.
“Is it a vineyard? Oh god, tell me it’s not that creepy doll museum two towns over. Wait. Are we going to an alpaca farm? Because I need distinct footwear for that… Oh, I know! It’s a balloon ride! You always have to get up early for those.”
He flicked a glance at me, his eyes glowing with amusement.
“Am I at least on the right track.”
“Not even close.”
The scenery started to thin out. Trees gave way to open, flat fields and chain-link fences that stretched out for miles. The truck crunched over loose gravel as he finally turned off the main highway.
My chatter died in my throat. We weren’t at a hotel or a restaurant. We rolled to a stop right in front of a wide, corrugated metal hangar with a bright orange windsock lazily drifting in the breeze.
The engine cut out, plunging us into sudden quiet. I stared through the windshield, my brain struggling to catch up with what I was seeing.
“We are...” I swallowed hard, turning to look at him with wide, incredulous eyes. “We aren’t driving to the surprise? We’re flying somewhere?”
“You got it.”
“Where?”
He got out of the truck without a word, retrieved our bags from the back and headed toward the hangar. I hustled after him, jogging to catch up.
The doors were already open, and as we rounded the corner onto the tarmac, there it was.
A sleek white jet with a navy stripe down the side, gleaming in the early morning light like something out of a magazine spread. The stairs were already down, and a man in a crisp uniform stood at the bottom, clipboard in hand.
I stopped dead in my tracks. “You have a plane?”
Cam glanced back at me, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t own it.”
“Oh.”
“It’s a charter.” He handed our bags off to the attendant, who greeted him by name before disappearing up the stairs with our luggage. “Owning a plane is a whole thing. Maintenance, storage, pilots on retainer, so I just lease it when I need it. It’s much easier.”
“Easier,” I repeated, still rooted to the spot. “You lease private jets. For ease. Like normal people lease... I don’t know, a Kia.”
He walked back to me, his eyes dancing with barely contained amusement. “You coming, or you gonna stand there catching flies all morning?” He held his hand out to me.
I snapped my mouth shut and put my slightly shaking hand in his, letting him lead me toward the stairs, my head still spinning. “You know, a little warning would have been nice. ‘Hey Emily, I’m secretly loaded, maybe don’t wear your rattiest sneakers to the private airfield.’”
He chuckled as we climbed the steps. “Your sneakers are cute. And it’s not a secret. You just never asked for specifics.”
I was struck speechless when we stepped inside. The interior of the plane was all warm wood tones, cream leather seats, and soft lighting that made the whole space feel more like a cozy living room than a mode of transportation.
A woman in a neat navy uniform appeared from somewhere near the back, her smile bright and professional. “Mr. Rockford, welcome aboard. Please, make yourselves comfortable. Once we’re airborne, I’ll bring out breakfast. In the meantime, can I get you anything? Coffee, juice, water?”
“Coffee would be amazing,” I said, finally finding my voice. “Thank you.”
“Same for me,” Cam added.
We settled into the biggest, softest leather seats I’d ever seen and buckled up. A moment later, the engines hummed to life, and the plane began to taxi toward the runway.
The ground fell away until the clouds swallowed the view. My stomach churned with something I couldn’t name. Wonder, maybe. Or disbelief. Or the strange, surreal feeling of being someone who got whisked away on private jets by a man who looked at her like she hung the moon.
When I finally turned back to Cam, he was watching me, his coffee untouched on the table.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Um, so why are we doing this?”
He tilted his head slightly, like the question surprised him. “You were upset last night.”
The simplicity of it hit me hard. No one did things like this. Not for me.
“So you... chartered a plane?”
“You needed a pick-me-up.” He shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Cam,” I started, but couldn’t find the words to say how I felt.
He took my hand in his, pressing a kiss to my palm. “Don’t say anything. Just let me spoil you a little, okay?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice. I squeezed his hand, terrified that if I let go, I might wake up back in my bed, alone.