Take a Chance (Sweet Treat Novellas #17)

Chapter One

Miguel Santos boasted a long list of cities he’d visited by means of airport layovers. His experience with Phoenix was limited to Sky Harbor. His time in Chicago was spent exclusively at O’Hare. It seemed LaGuardia was to be his only glimpse of New York City.

He’d heard enough about the Big Apple to know he was getting a raw deal.

His one-time girlfriend Jane loved New York; she’d told him so dozens of times.

She’d also said she loved him, so he figured she was probably only interested in New York as a friend, since that’s what “I love you” turned out to mean.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice came over the speakers in the airport terminal, “for those of you flying with us to Denver, we have an important announcement.”

“The National Weather Service has issued severe weather alerts for most of the Midwest, in effect until seven p.m., Central Time.”

The announcement was met with groans from many of the other passengers. Miguel had endured more than his share of weather delays. Getting upset hadn’t helped with any of them.

“The weather has delayed your aircraft, along with many others,” the agent continued. “Please know that we are doing all we can to get you to your final destination and will update you as more information is known. Thank you.”

Miguel silently counted, watching the counter. He knew what came next. 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .

Right on cue, floods of angry passengers stormed the counter.

Though he couldn’t hear their demands, he knew what they were.

Someone would be insisting the airline get them to Denver on time because of something important.

Someone else would be yelling about how unacceptable the delay was and threatening to talk to the media or their lawyer or the FAA.

Almost everyone would demand an exact timeframe for departure despite having been told already that there wasn’t one.

Travel didn’t generally bring out the best in people.

Miguel pulled out his phone and checked the weather for himself. Sure enough, the radar map was lit up from Canada to Texas, Nebraska to Tennessee. We’re not going anywhere anytime soon.

A burly man in a business suit sat on the stool next to Miguel’s and slammed his forearms down onto the table.

LaGuardia, at least the terminal Miguel was in, was filled with stools at long tables and short booths with charging stations.

If they were stuck here all night, there’d probably be a battle to the death for the few old-fashioned row seats scattered around the terminal.

There’d be nowhere else to lie down other than the floor.

“Unacceptable,” the businessman muttered. “They say the flight might be canceled.”

Miguel clicked through to the current weather warnings. “With weather like this, flights will be canceled all over.”

“The airline should do something about it.”

“About the weather? I think you’re confusing the airlines with God.”

That earned him a muttered observation about Mexicans and idiot Catholics. The guy demands that the airline magically wave away a storm system, and I am the idiot?

“I’m going to do something about the delay,” Miguel said, pocketing his phone.

The man eyed him doubtfully. “What could you do about it?”

“Buy myself a magazine and get comfortable.”

His fellow passenger repeated his earlier observation, though more clearly stated this time. So Miguel responded in Spanish with one of his abuela’s favorite observations about enduring the company of ignorant people.

“Don’t even have the decency to speak English,” the man muttered.

Why was it that hearing Spanish made so many people in America bristle so much? It wasn’t as if Miguel hadn’t just had a detailed conversation with the guy in perfect English. The fact that he could speak a second language would have been a point in his favor anywhere else.

Miguel left the grumbler behind and headed toward the nearest newsstand. He’d done more reading in airports than almost anywhere else. He thumbed through the racks. Which did he want this time? Sports? News? Anything but celebrity gossip, really.

“Attention, please. Passenger J. Schoonenburg, please see an airline representative at Gate C5. Passenger J. Schoonenburg.”

Miguel spun around. Schoonenburg. Jane’s last name was Schoonenburg.

How many J. Schoonenburgs could there be flying from New York, Jane’s favorite city, to Denver, her hometown?

He rushed from the newsstand empty-handed, back to the gate.

He kept a safe distance from the counter, watching for “Passenger J. Schoonenburg.” The place was chaotic.

TVs blared the news with word of widespread weather alerts sliding across the bottom of the screen.

Agents were attempting to calm frustrated passengers. Miguel eyed them all, searching.

Out of nowhere, there she was. Jane. Dressed like she’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Cool. Collected. Beautiful.

He hadn’t seen her since she’d told him she didn’t want to marry him. Three months that had felt like years. Now here she was, on the same flight he was taking home, stuck in the same terminal at the same airport.

The only question was, should he go talk to her— and risk the possible humiliation— or do his best to stay out of her sight?

***

“I’m Jane Schoonenburg. I was paged, which I’m hoping means someone found and turned in my phone.”

The agent nodded. “We did have a phone brought up to the counter that matches the description you left. If it recognizes your face, I’d say we have a match.”

The agent held the phone up with the screen facing Jane. Why she always felt the need to smile when opening her phone that way, she didn’t know. It was kind of stupid.

“It unlocked,” she told the agent.

After one more quick glance to make certain Jane was telling the truth, the agent handed the phone over to Jane.

Weather information flashed across a nearby TV screen. “Any word on when or if we might be in the air?”

“We have no new information, but we will be certain to pass it on once we do.”

Jane offered an empathetic half-smile. “I am probably the hundredth person to ask.”

That brought a bit of humor to the agent’s face. “Two hundredth, at least.”

“And how many have demanded that you fix the weather?”

“Most.” The agent laughed the word. “If airlines could control the weather, believe me, we would.”

“Well, for everyone’s sake, I hope the weather clears quickly.” She checked one more time to make certain her phone was safely stowed in her pocket, then stepped away from the counter so the next probably-irate passenger could demand answers.

Jane visited New York several times a year on business, though she always made time for enjoying the city. She’d never made a single trip here that didn’t have its share of chaos. She’d learned to simply roll with the punches, both in travel and in life.

She sat at one of the booths near the gate. Life had certainly dealt her its share of punches. Not a day went by that she didn’t think of Miguel and wonder what might have happened if he hadn’t ruined everything between them.

Coming to New York was supposed to clear her head of all that. Her head and her heart. It hadn’t worked at all. At least this trip had given her a little time away from home and all of the things there that reminded her of him. If she could just get him out of her thoughts, she could move on.

That’s what you’ve got to do. Get him out of your thoughts.

It was simple enough.

“Hey,” someone said.

She looked up, directly into the umber-brown eyes of Miguel Santos.