Page 36 of Always Knew It Was You

I lean back and close my eyes, imagining what I would look like dressed as a high-society girl. Mostly though I’m enjoying the ride and enjoying Micah’s hand holding mine.

I don’t know that I doze off until someone shakes me awake. “We’re here, sleeping beauty.”

My eyes blink open and turn to look out the open door to the sunset, behind a jet-black plane.

I blink again. “Where are we?”

“On the airport tarmac.”

I stare at him in confusion. “Why?”

He smiles mischievously. “I already told you. We’re going shopping.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

MICAH

Carly still seems struck silent with disbelief, and it’s an adorable look on her.

The black midsize private jet waits behind us, along with a full eight-person crew that stands beside the descended stairs in welcome.

Carly still hasn’t said a word.

I resist the urge to grin triumphantly, although the jet is sadly not mine. While my family does own a private jet, I’m currently banned from using it until I “see reason.” Plus, even if I wasn’t banned, using the family private jet would make it easier for my dad to spy on me and make it likelier that he would figure out what I was up to.

So instead, I asked an old college friend to borrow his jet.

It cost me a favor and a few thousand dollars, but it’s worth it to see the look of absolute awe on Carly’s face as she steps out of the car.

“Like it?” I ask.

“Uh-huh.” She nods slowly. “Are we really going to ride in that thing?”

“Yup,” I respond, amused at her sudden grin.

“Eek! I can’t believe it!” She skips a few times and beams with barely bridled excitement. “Little old Carly riding in a private jet. I feel like a Kardashian.”

I laugh then, her joy contagious. I’m typically not excited by things like this. I’ve ridden in private jets enough times that this is nothing special to me anymore, but watching Carly’s excitement reminds me of the first time I was brought on one when I was six.

“Shall we?” I ask her, looking forward to seeing her expression at the interior.

“Uh-huh,” she says and takes my hand as we walk to the stairs. A sudden gust of sharp wind blows her hair into my face, and I smell her vanilla-scented shampoo. Delicious. It makes me want to grab her close and inhale her, but I resist the urge as we approach the plane.

She greets all the staff as we ascend, and I follow suit even though I almost never do that. Usually, when I’m boarding a private jet ,I’m in a conversation with someone or on my phone. Chatting with the staff isn’t something that comes to mind.

But Carly gives them all the whole midwestern, “How y’all doing?” and actually waits for their murmured response before continuing up the stairs. As she enters the jets, her eyes go to the star-studded gold-paneled ceiling, her jaw falling open.

“It’s like I’m looking at the stars indoors,” she declares.

“Yeah, that’s the intended effect,” I say.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Uh-huh.” But I’m not looking up. I’m looking at her instead.

I’ve mostly seen Carly calm and collected, whether amused or vaguely annoyed. The only time she loses that measured control is when she’s lost in the throes of passion.

But seeing her like this, filled with childish glee, triggers a whole different sensation within me. I can’t help but notice that when she’s like this, she glows so beautifully.

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