Page 5 of Somewhere Without You
It was early afternoon as I scanned the crowd, watching travelers come and go. My eyes flicked from face to face in search of my sister, panic pricking at my spine when I couldn’t find her.
I glanced up at the digital clock above the baggage carousel—thinking I had arrived too early, only to discover I was running late. I freed my phone from my pocket.
Just landed, the message I’d sent twenty minutes ago, stared back with no reply.
With a sigh, I tapped on her name, pacing as the phone rang and rang before kicking me to voicemail.
Shit.
“Kat, it’s Emily. I’m at the airport. Where are you? Call me.”
Turning around, I started retracing my steps, remembering a Starbucks I’d passed earlier, when a voice behind me called my name.
“Emily?”
I spun around and saw a man I didn’t recognize walking briskly in my direction.
I hesitated, but he didn’t seem to need confirmation as he stopped directly in front of me.
“Emily Hart?”heaskedagain.
I gave a cautious nod.“Yes. . . do I know you?”
He shook his head.“I’m Jackson Bishop. I’m a friend of Grant’s.”
A knot of panic tightened in my stomach. Grant was my sister’s husband. Oh god. Had something happened?
“Where’s Katherine?”Iaskedsharply.
“They had something come up last minute,”hereassuredme.
“So they sent you instead,”I guessed, the tension easing in my chest.
“I offered,”Jackson smiled.“Didn’t seem right making you Uber all the way to La Jolla.”
He was distractingly good-looking—the kind of handsome that made you look twice. A classic Californian with sun-kissed blonde hair falling into his eyes, a piercing blue gaze, and a grin that could thaw glaciers. He looked like he belonged on a surfboard, not in an airport terminal.
Jackson bent down, gently coaxing the suitcase from my hand, and I caught the faint scent of fresh aftershave curling around the sharp lines of his jaw.
“How was the flight?”heasked, guiding me through the automatic doors to where a sleek black SUV waited at the curb.
“Exhausting,”I yawned.“Is it just me, or does the legroom shrink every year?”
He laughed, and the sound sent goosebumps skittering across my arms.
“That’s why I fly private,”hesaid, settling into the cool, buttery leather seat beside me.
I blinked.“You have a private jet?”
The surprise must’ve been all over my face. Who the hellwasthis guy?
“Technically, it belongs to the company,”Jackson shrugged.“But yes. And a helicopter.”
Ah. Suddenly, the luxury SUV and the waiting driver made sense. I hadn’t even been in California an hour and was already neck-deep in its gold-tinted world.
“How do you know Grant?”Iasked, suddenly hyperaware of my thrifted sundress and the crinkled Walmart bag cradled in my lap.
“We grew up together,”hesaidwith a nostalgic grin.“Our parents attend the same country club.”
