Getting Dirty - Page 61

I smile as I imagine him as a child watching his father in awe, just as I’m watching him now.

‘You want to try?’

He eyes the joystick—if that’s even what it’s called—and I laugh, shaking my head. ‘I’m happy to watch.’

‘Maybe some other time?’ he asks, hopeful, and my body warms.

My smile is all the answer he needs.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I PULL THE plane into the Livingstons’ private hangar, my body abuzz.

I knew she’d love it. The second the Scottish Highlands had come into view, her attention had turned to the landscape, pleasure written across her face.

‘That was pretty special,’ she raves as I cut the engine, her eyes still bright, her cheeks warm and rosy. She already looks more relaxed, happy.

‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’

I unfasten my harness and lean across to help her do the same. Our hands collide and her eyes shine into mine as she wets her lips. I don’t know whether it’s an intentional move to pull me in but I’m there, kissing her. My lips are soft upon hers, nothing urgent or desperate. We have time together now. No risk of the outside world looking in, no interfering. Just us.

Her mouth parts willingly, her excited little whimper encouraging me on. I smooth a hand through her hair, my thumb across her cheek, and keep on kissing her. Soft, tender, loving... Its effect is all the more powerful below my waist, around my heart. I don’t want to pull back, and I don’t want to—

Rat-a-tat-tat.

She freezes. The sound comes from the glass behind me.

So much for no interfering, no outsiders...

But you chose this place—and he’s no outsider.

I let out a breath and press my forehead to hers.

‘Who’s that?’ she whispers like he’ll overhear.

I shake my head and smile. ‘The

guy who gave me the flying bug.’

Her lips part...her eyes widen. ‘You brought me to meet your father?’

Yeah, I guess I did.

Not that I thought about the magnitude of that at the time—only that it was the right place for her. She’s thinking about it, though; I can see it in her face.

‘Is that okay?’

‘Yes—no. Yes.’ She smooths out her jeans, her hair, her cheeks. ‘You could’ve warned me.’

I grin, understanding her hesitation and adoring her all the more for it. ‘You look perfect.’

She does. My father is going to love her. My mother would have too.

My head spins with the realisation, my heart pulses, too big for my chest. Fear is quick on its tail. If I have to give her up will I have to endure what my father did when he lost Mum? Is it the same kind of grief?

‘I don’t believe you...not when you’re looking at me like that.’ She presses herself back in her seat like she’s trying to hide from my father, who’s rapping on the glass again. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asks.

‘Nothing at all.’ I snap myself out of it, snatching a quick kiss to prevent any further protestations from her. ‘But we’d best open up before he tries to clamber in and meet you himself; this is going to be fairly novel for him.’

Tags: Rachael Stewart Romance
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