Chapter 11
“Is there a limit to how many mess-ups a person can make in one day? Asking for a friend.” ~ Dakota
Dakota
“W here are you going?” I holler after Rhett when he sails past the end of the line to check in for our flight to Atlanta. “The end of the check-in line is here.”
He snorts. “We’re not flying economy.”
I hurry after him. “But I booked the tickets. And I booked economy.”
“And I upgraded our seats to business when I checked us in online.”
I blink. He’s acting as if flying business is no big deal. Meanwhile, I booked the plane tickets. I nearly had a heart attack at the price for business class seats.
“You upgraded us?”
He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”
Maybe not to him. I’ve flown exactly twice in my life. Once to Cancun for my honeymoon. And back from Cancun when it ended.
“Come on. I want to get these bags checked in so we can visit the lounge before our flight. I didn’t have time to eat lunch.”
“The lounge?” I mutter as I trail after him.
There’s no line at the business class check-in. And, apparently, there’s a different security line for people traveling business class. Who knew?
Within fifteen minutes, we’re strolling into a lounge. Or, rather, Rhett is strolling. I’m tiptoeing behind him.
“I shouldn’t be in here,” I whisper to him.
His brow wrinkles. “Why not?”
I motion to the other people dressed in fancy business suits. Meanwhile, I’m wearing a suit I picked up at a second-hand shop. “I don’t belong here.”
“You’ll be fine.” He places a hand on my lower back and ushers me into the lounge.
With him guiding me, I almost feel like I belong. Like I could be one of these people who are confident of their place in the world. Must be nice.
“Do you want anything to eat or drink?”
“Um…” I’m too busy trying to shrink into my chair so no one will notice how I’m not one of them to think about food.
“I’ll make you a plate.”
He shrugs out of his suit jacket before making his way to the buffet. My gaze snags on the way his ass shifts in his suit pants. And then there’s his button-down shirt. It strains to contain his muscles. I never thought a suit could be sexy before. I was wrong.
I’m not the only one who notices. Several women watch him as he makes his way through the buffet. One woman even licks her lips. Another crosses her legs as she bats her eyes toward him.
A pit grows in my stomach. It’s stupid. I can’t be jealous. Rhett isn’t mine to be jealous of. And today is a good reminder of how the man is way out of my league. We’re not even in the same division.
He returns and places a plate of food in front of me with a bottle of water.
“How come your plate is three times as big as mine?”
“Because I saw the sandwich you ate for lunch.”
My cheeks warm. I ate an extra-large sandwich for lunch because I figured we wouldn’t get any food again until we arrive in Atlanta. I had no desire to spend my limited funds on an overpriced sandwich and a bottle of water in the airport. It’s bad enough I’m missing two nights of working at the motel for this trip.
Rhett nudges my plate closer to me. “Eat. When we arrive in Atlanta, it’s straight into meetings. Who knows when we’ll have a chance to eat again.”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I dig into the pasta salad. I moan as the pesto flavor explodes in my mouth. “This is good. They didn’t use the pre-made pesto I use.”
Rhett’s eyes flare as he stares at me.
“What? Did I spill? Oh no. I didn’t bring extra clothes. I can’t spill.”
He clears his throat. “You didn’t spill.”
“Phew.”
I’m not joking. When I accepted the job with Eli, he told me the dress code at the distillery is casual. I bought one suit, just in case. And it’s the only suit I have.
Rhett shovels his food into his mouth while I savor mine. This is seriously the best pasta salad I’ve ever eaten.
When he stands to get seconds, I stop him. “We need to get to the gate.”
He checks his watch. “We have forty-five minutes.”
“Boarding is in fifteen minutes.”
“Plenty of time.”
My knee bounces underneath the table as I watch him eat another helping of food. We can’t miss our flight. If we miss our flight, we’ll miss our meeting. If we miss our meeting, we’ll screw up the deal with Velvet Blossom. If we screw up the deal, Eli will fire me.
My chest tightens, and I struggle to breathe. I can’t lose this job. The motel gig doesn’t offer health insurance. And I can’t afford my medicine without health insurance.
Rhett pats my hand. “You okay?”
“Yea. I just don’t want to be late,” I squeak. I clear my throat and try again. “I hate being late.”
“I noticed. You’re the first one at the office most mornings. Besides Eli. But he’s a machine.”
I’m not at the office because I worry about being late. I’m at the office because I worry about falling asleep and the alarm not waking me after working all night. I go straight to the brewery after my night shift to avoid it.
Rhett stands. “Let’s go before you have a heart attack.”
Thank the food gods. He’s finally finished eating.
We walk to the gate and Rhett passes all of the waiting passengers and aims straight for the front.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
“There’s no need to wait.”
“Everyone has to wait their turn.”
He smirks. “Lucky for us, it’s our turn.”
“But…”
My words trail off when he scans our boarding passes and the agent motions him forward.
“I don’t understand.”
“First class passengers never wait,” he says.
I screech to a halt. “First class? You said business.” Which was bad enough. First class?
He shrugs. “You were freaked out about business class. I figured first class would be worse.”
He noticed how I freaked out? He wasn’t supposed to notice. And definitely not remark upon it. Party foul! My cheeks warm. I’m probably fifty shades of red now.
I concentrate on the ground and follow him down the jetway to the plane. The flight attendant shows him to his seat. I didn’t realize flight attendants showed people to their seats. My previous experience flying involved people shoving past me, elbows being thrown, and a fight for the armrest since I got stuck in a middle seat.
“Do you want the window or the aisle?” Rhett nudges me. “Window or the aisle, Dakota?”
“Can I have the window?” I whisper.
He motions me into the row. “Go for it.”
There are only two seats on our side of the aisle. I sit down and nearly moan at the feeling of comfortable leather. Usually, I struggle to fit into the seat, but this one is plenty wide for me.
“Ma’am.”
Rhett chuckles. “The flight attendant is talking to you.”
“I’m sorry.” I blink up at her. “How can I help?”
She hands me a package. “This is your amenity package.”
“Amenity package?”
“I love first timers.” She hands a package to Rhett before continuing to the other passengers in first class.
I open the package to discover a toothbrush and toothpaste, lotion and lip balm, some perfume, earplugs, an eye mask, and fluffy socks.
“How long is this flight?” I mutter as I go through the items.
Rhett chuckles before handing me a blanket and pillow.
I frown. “Why are you handing me a blanket and pillow?”
“You’ve yawned three times since we boarded the plane five minutes ago. I figured you’d want to take a nap before we arrive.”
“Don’t we need to go over the latest numbers?”
He shakes his head. “We’re good. Rest.”
I open my mouth to protest but yawn instead. He barks out a laugh. “Get some sleep, Dakota. We have a busy two days ahead of us.”
No need to tell me three times. I unfurl the blanket and settle myself underneath it. I’m searching for my eye mask when Rhett reaches across me.
“You have to wear your seatbelt, Dakota. You need to be safe.”
He clicks my seatbelt in place and tightens the belt before tucking the blanket underneath my chin.
My eyes itch. No one’s tucked me in before. Adam certainly didn’t when we were married. And before Adam? I prefer not to think about what I missed out on growing up in care.
“Thank you,” I manage to say without bawling.
“Sleep well, Dakota.”
I glance away and close my eyes before the tears threatening can escape. Who is this man? He doesn’t remind me of the Rhett who tried to get me fired. Or the Rhett who threw a coffee pot. Or a controlling man.
This Rhett is a man I could fall in love with.
But you can’t, Dakota. He’s your brother’s boss, and you work with him. Getting involved with someone I work with is a bad idea. Plus, his mood changes quicker than an otter can crawl under my shirt.
It’s better to keep my distance.