Читать книгу Forever Flint - Barbara Boswell, Barbara Boswell - Страница 7

One

“I was told to look for the Paradise Outdoors sign at the gate. I’m Ash. . .”

“You’re Asher Carey?” Flint Paradise stared at the dark-haired, dark-eyed young woman standing before him and the sign he held, Paradise Outdoors, spelled out in bold black letters.

“Ihat can’t be right,” he replied to his own question.

Asher was definitely a male name, wasn’t it? Of course, these days, who knew? But she had to be in her twenties, and in the decade she’d been born in, parents had sensibly reserved masculine names for boys. Hadn’t they?

“No, my name is Ashlinn and. . .”

“I figured you weren’t Asher Carey.” Flint was relieved. It was imperative that she not be. He was here at the Sioux Falls airport to meet the flight of Asher Carey, the writer for Tour & Travel magazine, the male writer booked for the two-week Paradise Outdoors Company expedition.

“I’m from Tour & Travel magazine in New York, here for the Paradise Outdoors expedition,” she interjected.

This couldn’t be! Flint urgently flipped through the papers affixed to his clipboard. The name Asher Carey headed one sheet.

“See, here it is. Asher.” Flint showed her the paper, pointing at the name. “He’s the one booked on the trip.”

“Yes, it does say Asher,” Ashlinn Carey conceded with a shrug. “Maybe it’s a typo or something. I can show you all kinds of ID proving that I’m Ashlinn Carey and that I am with Tour & Travel. If you’d care to call the publisher, he will assure you this assignment is all mine.”

She appeared unflappable. No wonder. She considered the mixup to be a minor error. A typo! It was so much more than that, Flint decided grimly. What they were facing was a catastrophic case of mistaken identity. For not only was Ashlinn Carey a woman, she was a very pretty woman—and by the looks of her, a hip urban type who would be about as comfortable in the wild as a buffalo would be in a New York City magazine office.

And he was supposed to take her and four men besides himself camping in the Black Hills of Custer State Park for two weeks? Two weeks in the outdoors with an out-of-her-element city girl? Who looked. . . delicious, even after a long flight complete with layovers in two airports? Flint half expected his life to flash before his eyes, like a drowning victim going down for the last time.

The two stood facing each other.

“I don’t know how something like this could have happened,” Flint growled as he permitted himself another covert perusal of her, noting every one of her attributes.

There were many. Thick shiny hair, almost jet-black in color, sleek and straight and shoulder length. Wide-set coffee-brown eyes framed by dark lashes and brows. Good features, good face. He guessed that she’d never gone through an awkward, unattractive stage in her life. His kid sister Eva had been like that—adorable baby, darling kid, cute teen and, ultimately, pretty woman. But no further references to Eva applied, because the fierce jolt of arousal that suddenly struck him as he stared at Ashlinn Carey had nothing to do with brotherly admiration and everything to do with. . .well, arousal. Attraction. If he believed in the schoolboy fantasy of lust at first sight—which he didn’t, of course—it probably would feel a lot like this.

Flint tried to divert his unexpected attack of desire by redirecting his thoughts to something else. Something suitably distracting. He conjured up quick mental images of his teenaged half sisters, Camryn and Kaylin, who could always be counted on to infuriate him. But the mental trick didn’t work; the girls’ powers of annoyance faded in comparison to Ashlinn Carey’s considerable sensual draw.

He continued to gaze at her. The burgundy lipstick she wore looked freshly applied, perhaps moments before the plane had landed. The color accentuated the full, fine shape of her lips. She was wearing a one-piece black jersey outfit and a pair of ultra-fashionable black boots that added a few inches to her height. Still, at nearly six-four, he was considerably taller than she.

“You’re supposed to be a guy,” he said hoarsely.

How he wished she were! Barring that, it would’ve helped a lot if she didn’t have such an eye-popping figure, if she were one of those unappealing living toothpicks currently showcased in ads. Instead, Ashlinn Carey was soft and curvy in all the right places and projected a sultry allure without even trying. His skin felt uncomfortably warm, his entire body taut.

Ashlinn surveyed him coolly. “Well, I’m not a guy, am I? Are you Sam Carmody?”

“No.”

“You’re supposed to be.”

Flint assumed she was needling him with her argument about his identity, since he’d just done the same thing to her “I guess I had that coming,” he grumbled.

“My trip packet clearly states that Sam Carmody, the director of marketing for Paradise Outdoors, who is also in charge of this expedition, will meet my plane at the airport,” Ashlinn insisted.

“Carmody is in the hospital in traction for the next three weeks. Skateboard accident. The idiot,” Flint muttered under his breath before he could catch himself.

“You’re not very sympathetic. Three weeks in traction sounds awful.”

“I’ve been trying to be sympathetic since I got the bad news last night. But all I can think of is that any thirty-two-year-old man who tries to skateboard down the front steps of the high school is an idiot.” Flint grimaced. “I’m only a year older than he is, and I wouldn’t dream of going near a skateboard. Especially one day before the camping trip that’s been his own pet project from the start.”

“To be perfectly honest, I think I’d rather be in traction myself than to go to a place called the Badlands. I mean, the name itself says it all, doesn’t it? What can be good about going there?” Ashlinn smiled for the first time. “Since the trip is canceled, I’ll just book a flight back to New York and...”

“The trip is still on. The other four guys have already arrived and are raring to go. I’m the new leader of the pack, so to speak.”

Flint dragged his eyes away from her, a defensive move on his part because her smile had affected him tangibly, like a blow upside the head. He felt queerly disoriented.

Flint was appalled. And bewildered. First, the sight of her set his body on fire, then her smile literally dazed him. What was going on here? he wondered with a consternation mingled with alarm. He had never been the emotional type, succumbing to the impulses of a hot and instant physical attraction. He was a thinker, a planner, rational and controlled.

The last tune he’d been goaded into acting on impulse. . .

Flint frowned, remembering last year’s folly when his twin brother, Rafe, had persuaded him to pick up a blond businesswoman in a downtown hotel coffee shop. Within an hour, he had been back in his office, without ever laying a hand—or anything else—on the woman. He’d recognized that it was Rafe’s ribbing, not his own attraction to the blonde that had prompted his actions, and swiftly ended the impetuous date.

But Rafe hadn’t chided him about the lack of women in his life for months In fact, Rafe was so absorbed in his new marriage that Flint doubted that he even noticed his twin’s lack of a social life. No, he couldn’t blame his inconvenient impulses toward Ashlinn Carey on his brother.

Flint’s frown deepened. “Anyway, we’re not going to the Badlands, we’re going to the Black Hills. Since you’ve obviously not done your homework for this assignment, let me clue you in—they’re two different places.”

“Oh.” Ashlinn’s face flushed. “I. . . I was only recently given this assignment.”

“Sure” Flint made it clear that he didn’t believe her Great, just great. In addition to everything else, she was a slacker. As a devout workaholic, he couldn’t abide such behavior.

Ashlinn was looking none too pleased herself.

“Four other guys are taking this trip?” she asked succinctly. “I’m supposed to spend two weeks on an all-male adventure into the wild?”

Flint shrugged. “We took it for granted this trip was for men only. What woman reads a magazine like Tour & Travel? So why would they even have women writers on the staff?”

“Have you ever read Tour & Travel?” demanded Ashlinn. “Most of it is geared toward professional women who enjoy interesting weekend getaways and vacations to charming little places where. . .”

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same magazine? Carmody showed me a copy, and it was geared toward—well, guys like Carmody.”

“Thirty-two-year-old idiots who skateboard with teenagers,” Ashlinn said darkly.

“Men who are free from domestic responsibilities and have a penchant for adventure and challenge,” Flint found himself lapsing into the marketing-speak of Carmody himself. “And who also have plenty of disposable income to spend on the specialty items that Paradise Outdoors sells.”

“And that would be skateboards and other toys for the alleged adult male?” Ashlinn inquired sarcastically.

“Let’s stick to your magazine and its focus—whatever that is,” countered Flint. “For starters, redefine what you mean by ‘charming.’ Because if it involves things like running water and gourmet dinners and shopping, none of those were in last month’s issue of Tour & Travel.”

“Oh no, last month’s issue!” Ashlinn heaved a groan. “I’d actually managed to forget about it. Or maybe it’s simply pure denial. That issue was the first one to come out under the. . .new publisher. He’s changed the entire format, the entire concept of the magazine. Everything is different now.”

“I see. Sort of.” Flint gazed quizzically at her. “That still doesn’t explain why the magazine sent you out here. I can’t imagine that Carmody wasn’t clear about this being an all-male excursion.”

“Well, I guess the ‘Asher’ could have been a typo. But I’m becoming more and more convinced that he—Presley Oakes Jr., the new publisher of T & T—did this on purpose.” Ashlinn’s deep-brown eyes flashed fire. “It would be exactly like him to pull a stunt like this, first assigning me to write an article, then making it about a testosterone-fueled trip into some godforsaken wilderness.”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that you don’t much care for your new boss,” Flint said dryly.

She drew a sharp breath. “I was a senior editor at the magazine until Junior’s father bought it and turned it over to him. Do you know what it’s like to work for a boss who’s just celebrated his twenty-third birthday?”

“Twenty-three, huh?” Flint wondered what response she was expecting. Weren’t women notoriously touchy about their age? He cleared his throat. “Er, I guess that makes him younger than you?”

“Duh!”

“I was trying to be tactful,” Flint defended himself.

“You needn’t bother. I’m not ashamed of my age, which is five years older than Junior. Five pivotal, crucial years!”

“I’m guessing things got off to a rocky start when Junior took the helm,” Flint surmised. “So he’s making a senior editor write about a camping trip, and to top it off, he sends a female to go with a bunch of guys. Yeah, things are beginning to fall into place now.” Flint nodded his head knowingly. “Too bad Paradise Outdoors got dragged into Junior’s scheme to get rid of you. Wait until I talk to Carmody! He should’ve picked up on the. . .”

“There is no scheme to get rid of me!” cried Ashlinn.

“No?” Flint arched his brows. “If you’re so secure in your position, then why didn’t you refuse this assignment? It doesn’t sound like you were very enthused about it, even before you got here and found out it was men only.”

“That’s not true, I. . .”

“Shall I quote yourself to you? ‘The Badlands, the name itself says it all’ . . .‘what can be good about going there?’ Let’s not forget ‘some godforsaken wilderness.’ And then there was your unsurpassed glee when you assumed the trip was canceled. You actually smiled.”

He remembered the flash of sexual heat her smile had inspired in him. He’d better make sure that didn’t happen again.

Ashlinn’s shoulders slumped. “Okay, you’re right. I wasn’t looking forward to the trip. And I . . . didn’t do much reading about the state of South Dakota so I thought the Black Hills were in the Badlands, not separate areas. No offense.”

“None taken. Not too much, anyway. So you felt you couldn’t just say no when you were given the assignment?”

“One doesn’t say ‘no’ to Junior and still have a job. So far I’ve survived the purge that followed his takeover.” She heaved a sigh.

“Sounds bad. Why haven’t you quit?” Flint was genuinely curious.

She made a wry face. “I have this practical side that asserts itself, reminding me that I can’t afford to be unemployed. I’ve barely made a dent in my student loans and I have other key bills to. pay—you know, like food and rent. I’d really hate to give up eating and live on the streets.”

“Cheer up, this expedition should definitely broaden your options. You’ll learn survival skills so you can live off the land.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“Well, yes.” Flint’s lips twitched. “I thought a little humor couldn’t hurt.”

“You might notice that I’m not laughing.” She glowered at him.

There was nothing remotely humorous about her predicament, Ashlinn mused glumly. As if this assignment from the little weasel who’d pronounced T & T’s format—and staff—stale and stodgy and too old weren’t bad enough, it was now quite clear that she was unwelcome on the expedition. The group leader was as eager to be rid of her as Junior was to replace her at Tour & Travel with one of his young buddies.

Well, she wasn’t going to give either one the satisfaction of her quitting!

Ashlinn clutched her overnight bag so tightly that her fingers ached. To say that she hadn’t been looking forward to this trip was definitely an understatement. She’d always loathed Carey family camping vacations while growing up, and as an adult gladly avoided places where sleeping bags, cooking over an open fire and applying mosquito repellent by the quart were required.

Now this. Plus, she was to be the only female among a gang of would-be Daniel Boones bent on exploring the wilderness with high-tech gadgets and equipment. Could it get any worse?

It could.

“We’re scheduled to leave at dawn tomorrow,” said Flint.

“Dawn?” Ashlinn echoed, dismayed. “Why so early? It’s not like the Badlands—uh, the Black Hills—are going anywhere. They’ll still be there if we leave at a decent hour in the morning.”

“Dawn is the decent hour to begin this trip,” Flint said firmly “We have to drive nearly the length of the state to reach the campgrounds.”

Ashlinn glanced at her watch. It was already past ten—and that was Central Time Her body was still operating on Eastern Standard Time, which made it a whole hour later.

“Where’s the baggage claim?” she asked wearily. “I’ll collect my luggage and then we can get out of here.” She was booked into a motel tonight and wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and try to get some sleep before the odious dawn departure.

“Luggage?”

“You look as if you’re unfamiliar with the concept.” Ashlinn’s patience was wearing very thin.

“How much luggage?” His testy tone matched hers

“Just two suitcases,” she began defensively. “I. . .”

“Well, you’ll have to leave them behind. We’re only bringing what we can carry in the extended-journey-size backpacks. Everybody is receiving identical ones, courtesy of Paradise Outdoors”

Ashlinn stared at the man who was not marketing chief Sam Carmody. His eyes, black as obsidian chips, were watching her closely, no doubt to gauge her reaction to his latest pronouncement. He was openly trying to discourage her; he was still hoping that she would bail out of the torturous fate awaiting her.

Not that she didn’t want to.

But that practical side of her nature dismissed the misery of rising before dawn and lugging a heavy-duty backpack through rugged terrain. She really had no choice. The raise she’d been counting on had fallen through when Tour & Travel had been sold, and her living expenses seemed to be increasing, though she’d actually cut back her spending. She hadn’t eaten out once since Presley Oakes Jr. took over the magazine, and in a city of great restaurants like New York, that was a cruel hardship indeed.

But the prospect of unemployment was far worse.

If she were fired, the benefits she would be eligible for wouldn’t come close to making ends meet. And if she quit her job, she wouldn’t get a cent from anywhere Either way, she would have to leave New York. . .

She couldn’t leave New York, she wouldn’t! Ashlinn resolved once again. She loved the city; living there had always been her dream and an obnoxious little twerp like Presley Oakes Jr. wasn’t going to drive her away. Neither was the replacement for the hapless Sam Carmody.

She was going on this trip, she would write the wretched article and keep her job. She would show this outdoor fanatic that she could survive in the wilderness, and when she returned to the office she would outlast Junior, who was bound to grow bored playing a magazine publisher. As it was, he had nothing in common with the adults on the T & Tstaff, and seemed to spend most of his time at work playing computer games in his office.

An invigorating wave of hostility washed over her. “Who are you, anyway?” she demanded.

“Flint Paradise, president and CEO of Paradise Outdoors.”

“And you have the time to take over the role of group leader into the wild, even though you’re the president and CEO of a company?” She regarded him suspiciously. “Doesn’t sound like your presence is exactly vital to your business. Or maybe your company doesn’t do much business? Is this trip a desperation measure to garner some kind of. . .”

“Paradise Outdoors is having a banner year,” Flint cut in testily. She’d clearly struck a nerve with her jibes at his company. “Furthermore, I’m viewing the next two weeks as a paid vacation, the first I’ve ever taken.”

“Translation—you couldn’t get anybody else to go,” taunted Ashlinn. “That certainly bodes well for this trip.”

Flint was irked. How had she guessed that his entire senior staff had opted out of the trip, citing irrevocable family plans and obligations, an excuse they knew he couldn’t give? Still, he was loathe to admit that to her.

“Why wouldn’t I take advantage of an all-expenses-paid trip? Because the entire expedition, including guide fees, has been bankrolled by your magazine.”

Ashlinn was momentarily taken aback. “It has?”

“It has” Flint started walking toward the baggage claim area.

Automatically, Ashlinn trotted alongside him. “Junior didn’t mention that Tour & Travel was financing the trip.”

“Well, you are. Carmody arranged the logistics of the expedition, but Tour & Travel is footing the bill for everybody. Paradise Outdoors will also get a year’s free advertising in the magazine and publicity for the products used, because you’ll be writing about them in your article.”

They came to stand beside a revolving carousel, waiting for the luggage to appear.

“Let me make sure I have this right—Tour & Travel is funding this camping trip and giving the Paradise Outdoors Company free advertising for a year plus free publicity for products sold by the company?” Ashlinn said carefully “What exactly does the magazine get out of this deal?”

“That’s what I asked Carmody.” Flint shrugged. “He told me the publisher said Tour & Travel wanted the article badly and thought it was worth paying for.”

“I see.” Boy did she ever! Junior hates me and is hoping I’ll either quit or get permanently lost in the wilderness, Ashlinn thought grimly. He’d consider that worth paying for, especially since it was his daddy’s money, not his own, that he was throwing around.

“Carmody had all the proper contracts signed so I had no objections to this trip—until now,” Flint added, narrowing his eyes. “Now, I not only have objections, I have grave reservations.”

“Oh, I had those from the start,” muttered Ashlinn.

They watched in silence as baggage from the flight began to slide down the chute onto the carousel. Ashlinn quickly claimed hers, two matching top-brand suitcases that she’d purchased on sale. She was an excellent shopper, tracking down bargains, finding quality merchandise at the lowest prices. It was a talent that wouldn’t come in too handy on this particular trip, she acknowledged ruefully.

“Let’s go.” Flint handed her his clipboard and his sign and lifted a suitcase in each hand. He grimaced at the weight.

She decided to beat him to the punch with, “Go on, make the predictable tired old quip about rocks being in there. How about asking me if I packed everything but the kitchen sink?”

“Did you?” He headed toward the doors. “Now it’s your turn to laugh politely at the lame joke.”

“Ha, ha,” she said. “Was that polite enough?”

Though he carried the two heavy bags, he was striding along at a rate that made her half run to keep up with him. They left the terminal and headed toward the parking area, eventually reaching a champagne-colored Saturn.

Flint proceeded to load her bags into the trunk.

“I guess we won’t be taking this car into the Bad Hills,” Ashlinn said. She sounded nervous, even to herself.

She was nervous. Because it had just occurred to her that she was expected to climb inside this car with this man, whom she hardly knew. At night, in an unfamiliar city. She was too well-versed in stranger danger not to be uneasy. Alarm quickly followed. What should she do?

“That would be the Black Hills,” corrected Flint. He opened the passenger door for her and stood there, waiting for her to get in. “And you guessed right. My car stays home. We’re taking a big van with four-wheel drive and tires sturdy enough for the roughest terrain.”

Ashlinn hesitated beside the door and began to leaf through the pages on the clipboard, stalling for time. She couldn’t bring herself to move, let alone get into the car where the two of them would be alone together in the darkness.

She skipped over the ‘Asher Carey’ page and read aloud the names on the other four sheets. “Jack Hall. Etienne Bouvier. Rico Figueroa. Koji Yagano. They’re the other ones going on this trip?”

Flint nodded. “Hall is Australian, Bouvier is French, Figueroa from Argentina and Yagano from Japan. Each writes freelance articles for men’s travel-outdoor-adventure magazines in his own country.”

“Then there’s me, from the USA. The group is a veritable United Nations of travel magazines.” Ashlinn managed a faint smile.

“And Paradise Outdoors will get advertising and publicity in all those magazines. This trip of Carmody’s really was a good idea, and getting Tour & Travel to finance the whole thing took extraordinary salesmanship.” Flint’s irritation with his injured marketing chief appeared to soften.

“My entire staff is committed to taking the company into the global marketplace I don’t know how much you know about Paradise Outdoors, but we’ve grown from a small niche company selling specialized travel gear by catalog to a broader inventory and national customer base. Now we’re headed worldwide.” Flint’s face lighted with enthusiasm as he talked about his company. Ashlinn found herself studying him, and as she watched and listened, her fear was transformed into something else entirely. All of a sudden, she was excruciatingly aware of everything about him.

Like his height. He literally towered over her, and in her boots with their three-inch heels, she was nearly five-eight, which wasn’t exactly short.

He was strong too; he’d proven that by whisking along her ten-ton suitcases like feather pillows. The short sleeves of his white cotton shirt revealed the hard muscles of his arms.

Ashlinn swallowed hard He was tall and strong—and then there was the additional matter of his looks. Somehow, those hadn’t registered until now, either. He was very handsome, not to mention virile-looking.

Her mouth was dry. “Tall, dark, and handsome” was a cliché, but definitely applied to him. Words were her stock-in-trade, and Ashlinn realized she could come up with a thesaurusfull to describe Flint Paradise.

He seemed to be expecting some response from her. Floundering in the mind-shattering seas of sexual awareness, Ashlinn couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“My father started the business thirty years ago, and I took over as CEO after his death seven years ago. My staff instituted the full-color catalog, expanded the inventory and the mailing list and got a website on the Internet for cybersales. We’re well situated to take Paradise Outdoors into the millennium,” Flint proudly volunteered, with no prompting from her.

“Paradise is an unusual name, a good one for your company,” Ashlinn finally came up with something to say, but she winced upon hearing it aloud. Could that really be her? She sounded like a simp! Self-consciousness struck, accompanied by an adrenaline rush. Mature women of twenty-eight did not develop instant crushes, did they? Yet she was behaving as if that was exactly what had just happened to her.

Thank heavens Flint seemed unaware of it.

“We were told our great-grandfather chose the name Paradise,” he explained. “The chief was a Lakota Sioux and liked the sound of that particular Anglo word, so he decided to use it for his name.”

Flint’s eyes locked with Ashlinn’s.

“Lakota Sioux? Like in Dances with Wolves?”

“Yeah.” Flint gave a laugh. “I keep forgetting about that movie, but people, especially women, keep reminding me.”

Ashlinn suspected he was laughing at her but carried on anyway. “There’s a certain chic to being Native American,” she suggested.

Not to mention romance, added a teasing little voice in her head. And he does conjure up thoughts of romance, doesn’t he?

She couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from Flint Paradise. He had a long straight nose, high cheekbones, a well-shaped mouth and his skin was the color of polished bronze. He really did bear a resemblance to a hero on the cover of an historical romance novel—not that she read them, she preferred her history straight and factual, not plagued by love. There were a few key differences, of course. Flint’s thick glossy black hair was cut short, and she was fairly certain that the male cover models wore theirs long and untamed. And Flint’s white designer polo shirt and khaki trousers were a far cry from the loin cloths and feathers favored on the book covers.

“Dad was Sioux and Mom was Irish,” Flint recited his bloodlines with a nonchalant shrug. “And my brother and sister and I prefer the term Indian to Native American. Just a personal preference, not a political statement either way”

She nodded her head, gazing into eyes that were almond-shaped and black as coal. When he looked at her the way he was doing now, his heated gaze seemed to liquefy her insides.

“We have to get going,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm. “Get in.”

For a moment, he thought she was going to balk, to refuse and run back into the airport terminal.

It would be for the best if she did, he decided, because just standing here looking at her during this time-filling, time-wasting conversation was turning him on so fast and so hard that the prospect of spending additional time with her, of sharing a tent with her. . .

That stunning realization struck him for the first time. The six men booked for the trip were to sleep in pairs in three tents. Hall was matched with Yagano, Bouvier with Figueroa, Sam Carmody with Asher Carey.

Which meant that Flint Paradise was assigned a tent with Ashlinn Carey! He was supposed to sleep in closest proximity to her for the next two weeks’

Flint removed his hand at the same moment she jumped back. He could still feel the softness of her skin under his palm, and he robotically flexed his fingers. That he had touched her at all was uncharacteristic of him. He wasn’t the touchy-feely sort, given to casual physical contact. Yet he’d reached out and taken Ashlinn by the arm, which practically qualified as an intimate act for him! Such behavior was way out of line, Flint reproved himself. After all, the arrangement between Tour & Travel magazine and Paradise Outdoors made them colleagues, professionals working together.

But then, she was supposed to be Asher Carey, a red-blooded man’s man, not Ashlinn, an irresistible temptress.

They couldn’t go on this trip together. It was as simple as that. Now, all he had to do was to tell her so, to cancel the entire excursion and reimburse Tour & Travel and the other four members of the expedition.

Ashlinn moistened her lips. His touch seemed to be seared onto her skin like a brand. She could still feel the warmth and strength of his big hand. She couldn’t stay, she decided. Not when she felt this forceful attraction to Flint Paradise. It was both scary and thrilling, like being on a roller coaster heading toward the top of a precipitous drop at warp speed.

Ashlinn had always hated roller coasters.

She would tell him that she was leaving Sioux Falls, that she was going back into the terminal right now, and no, he needn’t bother to help her carry her suitcases back inside, thanks very much. She was going to fly back to New York tonight if she had to go by way of Seattle to do so.

But despite the decisive plans being concocted in their heads, neither Flint nor Ashlinn spoke a word

Flint continued to hold the door for her, and she slipped into the front seat of the car, watching as he walked around to the driver’s side and climbed inside.

Both simultaneously buckled their seatbelts The clicks of the metal clasps were the only sounds heard within the confines of the car.

Flint turned the ignition key and the engine kicked into gear

They were on their way.