"You got me. I wasn't going to a keg party every night to hone my beer bong skills, so what? Excuse me for deciding it was better to get the education I was paying for," I snapped. Of course, I was lying through my teeth, but he didn't need to know that. Better for him to think I was a stick in the mud than to know how many parties I had attended, hoping to meet that one special person. After two years of the same crap, I was sick of the whole party scene and the college experience in general. I transferred to culinary school and focused on my career while I formulated plan B. Everything sort of clicked after that, at least professionally. Not long into my schooling, I came up with the idea to start a blog showcasing some of my favorite recipes. I named the blog Cooking for Love. After all, the old saying claims the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. I post meal prep videos twice a week, but the rest of the time I leave helpful hints on making yummy treats for your loved one. I also encourage followers to ask me questions and email their ideas. Once a month, I pick one of the ideas and prepare it on my site. The author of the winning recipe receives credit for the meal, a bottle of wine and chocolate-covered strawberries. My giveaways became an instant hit and each month the number of entries doubled from the previous month. Two and half years later, I've managed to build my blog into a successful business, but ironically, I haven't been able to cook my way into a man's heart.
"Never underestimate the mad skills it takes to become a champion beer-bonger," Grant said, standing up. He walked away dialing his phone and my stomach twisted into knots. It didn't take an Einstein to figure out who he was calling. Looking away, I studied the other passengers who sat with nothing more to do than wait like I was. I wondered how the crash would affect their lives. I shuddered to think if we would be sitting here if our plane had reached thirty thousand feet before whatever the malfunction was happened. I'm sure many of the other passengers were thinking the same thing.
"Here," Grant said, appearing at my side quicker than I expected. He dropped his phone on my lap before heading toward the bathroom. Maybe Amanda didn't answer his call. I dialed my parents' number and my mom answered immediately, like she had been waiting for the phone to ring. She sounded relieved when she heard my voice, but after she was certain I was okay, she chastised me for waiting so long to call her. It took me awhile to get her to pipe down long enough to let me explain what happened. My palms began to sweat as I recalled the fear of death I felt when the plane nosedived.
"What are you going to do now?" her voice interrupted my wayward thoughts.
"I'm not sure. Definitely not flying," I answered since the mere thought of stepping into another plane had me teetering on the edge of hysteria.
"But I want you home for Christmas," my mom all but wailed through the phone. "Especially after what happened today. I need my baby here."
"I know, Mom. I'm still coming. I think I'll rent a car. I can make the trip in one day if I don't stop."
"Dear, I'm not crazy about you driving all by yourself."
"Mom, I drive by myself all the time," I reminded her as Grant sank down in the seat next to mine.
"I understand that, honey, but driving halfway across the country isn't safe for any woman, especially after what you've been through."
"It's not halfway across the country," I pointed out. I refrained from reminding her that she's the one who wanted me to drive. When she started her worry mode, there was no reasoning with her. I listened with half an ear as she continued to bemoan my predicament. Only when she suggested that she could fly here to make the drive with me, did I intervene. I would have laughed at her suggestion, but I knew she was dead serious. A mixture of amusement and dismay swirled through me. Don't get me wrong. I loved my parents dearly, but the idea of my mommy flying in to rescue me didn't sit right. "Mom, don't be ridiculous. I don't need you to fly here and hold my hand. The drive isn't that long," I explained. I shushed Grant, who was chuckling beside me. He wiggled his fingers in my face to get on my nerves until I elbowed him in the gut. You'd think he would have gotten the hint, but it only egged him on further. I swatted his hand away as I continued to try to convince my mom that I was indeed capable of driving myself to Woodfalls. I was in the middle of reminding her of all the traveling I had done the last few years when Grant plucked the phone from my hand.
"Don't you even do it," I threatened. I was shocked he had the nerve to snatch the phone from me.
He held up a hand to quiet my complaints, and for the first time in my life, I contemplated murder. I tried to retrieve the phone before he could speak, but once he stood up, he was too tall. All I managed to do was draw attention to us as I practically crawled up his body in an attempt to get the phone.
"Mrs. Lawton, this is Grant Johnson," he said into the phone. I could hear my mom's happy squeal from my seat. I rolled my eyes. For whatever reason, all the adults in Woodfalls had always liked Grant. Even when I used to complain about his endless teasing, my mom had always defended him, telling me that was his way of showing he liked me. She was wrong. I was nothing but a source of entertainment for him. "We were both on the flight," he said into the phone. "I know, small world, right? Me and Jams together," he added. I'm sure he didn't mean his words to sound the way they did, but it still didn't stop my pulse from racing slightly. Grant's next words made my blood pressure rise. I had to have heard him wrong because there was no way in hell he could have been serious. Otherwise, I really was going to have to kill him now.
Chapter 3
"Are you insane?" I hissed as he ended the phone call with my mom.
"What?" he asked, feigning surprise.
"There's no way I'm driving eight hundred plus miles with you."
"Nine-nineteen," he corrected, stowing the phone back in his pocket.
"What?" I asked, momentarily distracted as I watched the phone disappear from sight.
"It's nine hundred and nineteen miles to be exact. I Googled it," he said, patting his pocket.
"It doesn't matter if it's nine miles. I'm not driving anywhere with you," I stated. There was no way I could spend that much time with him. Eventually, we would move past the superficial talking we had been doing. I didn't want to delve into what he had been up to in my absence from Woodfalls. More specifically, I didn't want to hear about his perfect little life with Amanda. I would have continued my objection, but a team of airport personnel entered the holding area.
"Why not?" he asked as we joined the semicircle of passengers that had formed around the airport employees.
"Um, could it be because you made my preteen years hell?" I said, grasping for any excuse I could come up with. He started to argue, but I shushed him so I could hear what the airport staff had to say. Most of it didn't pertain to me since I had no interest in catching a new flight. All I cared about was getting my luggage and getting out of this airport. The spokesperson for the airline talked in a loud voice that carried through the large room. She first apologized for the trauma we had all suffered. She claimed they were doing everything in their power to get all of us to our destinations, yada yada yada. Once she had covered new flights and how the airline would compensate us with free flight vouchers, she moved to an explanation about the accommodations they had secured for those of us who would not be catching a flight that night. Finally, she got to something I actually cared about, collecting our belongings. They had a shuttle waiting to take us to the hangar where they had placed all our bags.
Without giving any thought to Grant, I was the first to step in line for the shuttle. I planned on finding my bags and getting the heck out of Dodge. Alone.
"Not so fast, Jams," Grant said, joining me.
"I think the end of the line is back there," I said, pointing over my shoulder.
"You're not leaving the airport without me."
"First of all, this isn't the line to leave the airport. Second, you're the only one who thinks we're leaving together," I pointed out, tapping my fingers impatiently against my leg as I waited for them to show us to our shuttle.
"Not true. I promised your mom I wouldn't let you drive home by yourself," he said, holding up a hand when I tried to argue. "And I never break a promise," he continued. He looked serious. It was the first time I could recall seeing him without a trace of teasing.