Chapter Five
April stood at the sink inside the ladies’ restroom at Vancouver International Airport, watching Miranda brush her teeth. They’d survived the nine-hour flight and had been through passport control. All they had to do was to go through the nothing-to-declare section and reach arrivals, where Dan and Rory would meet them.
April watched Miranda fetch her makeup bag from her carry-on and pull out a lipliner. Her hands shook. April smiled. She’d never seen Miranda so nervous.
“You really do like him, don’t you?” she said.
Miranda bit her lip. “Don’t go on about it. You’re only making it worse.”
“It’ll be fine,” April said. Then she repeated her promise from the start of the flight. “Everything’s going to be perfect.”
Just for a second, she allowed her mind to flash forward to Miranda’s wedding, where she’d get to be a bridesmaid, of course. She already knew which shoes she’d choose—her Miz Mooz leather peep toes in a nude shade.
They left the restroom. Miranda hurried ahead of April, pushing the luggage cart. April bet that her heart was beating triple time. They passed through the nothing-to-declare section without any hassle and stepped into the concourse. Crowds of people waited behind a barrier that ran down the left-hand side. Some held up placards. Others clutched balloons or bouquets of flowers.
April bounced along behind Miranda. She loved arriving at airports. She liked seeing the hugs and the kisses and the outpouring of emotion. Suddenly, Miranda shrieked, then raced down to the end of the barrier and threw herself at a man—Dan?—who picked her up in his strong firefighter’s arms and spun her around and around until they both must have been dizzy. When he put her down, they started kissing.
April walked up to them and stood a polite distance away until they came up for air.
Miranda swiveled toward April. Her eyes shone, her lipstick smeared around her face. “Dan,” she said. “This is April. April, Dan.”
Dan turned to her, his gaze on her corset. For a second, she thought she saw the corners of his mouth flicker upward. Then he reached out and shook her hand. She tried to give him a look that said “don’t mess with my friend,” but he probably thought she just had grit in her eyes.
She glanced around. Where was his friend, Lumberjack Rory? He’d clearly changed his mind about the vacation. April was glad he’d backed out. They wouldn’t have gotten along, anyway. Sure, it would be awkward with just her, Miranda, and Dan, but she vowed to give them plenty of couple time and leave them alone while she went for walks.
Dan took the trolley. “Let’s get out of here. This place is a zoo. Rory’s going to meet us at the front.”
April’s heart sank. Oh, so Rory had come after all.
They hurried toward the exit, dodging passengers, and stepped through the automatic doors. April shivered. The sky was overcast, and it was a lot colder than she expected. At least she’d brought her zebra-print scarf to wrap around her shoulders. Zebra-print, she’d told her readers in one of her columns, was less trashy than leopard print. Her Stella McCartney trainers glowed white in the gloom.
A line of taxes waited past the double doors. The ones in the front kept their engines idling. A man in a uniform blew a whistle as he directed travelers over a crossing to a multi-story parking garage on the other side of the road.
Suddenly, a black Range Rover with tinted windows roared up to the exit. Fishing rods, surfboards, and water containers were strapped to its roof rack, and mud splattered up its sides. It cut ahead of the taxis and skidded to a standstill outside the doors, which sent the cabs into a frenzy of honking. The man in the uniform blew his whistle so hard his face turned purple.
Dan rushed the cart up to the Range Rover. The door flew open and the driver leaped out onto the pavement. April’s breath quickened. So this was Rory. She’d been right. He was completely not her type. He was very blond, very tanned, and very muscular.
He threw out a string of swear words to the taxi drivers, then grabbed the suitcases from the trolley and bundled them into the trunk. At the same time, Dan ushered April and Miranda to the SUV.
“Quick,” Dan said. “This is a no-stopping zone. The cops’ll be onto us in a second.”
Miranda opened the back door and dove inside. April was about to follow when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around. Rory stood behind her, shaking his head.
“No, you don’t,” he said. “Let the lovebirds have the back.”
His gaze moved down to her corset and a look of utter astonishment crossed his face. April rolled her eyes. She wanted to sit in the back with Miranda, not next to this jerk. She stomped around to the front passenger side and hopped into the car.
Inside, the cream leather seats smelled new. Walnut paneling covered the dashboard. The Range Rover must have cost a bomb, she thought. She’d never expected someone with a tree-planting business to earn so much money.
Rory jumped into the driver’s side and revved the engine. Then, ignoring the horns that seemed to be blaring at them from every direction, he maneuvered the SUV down the road toward the exit signs.
He shot April a wicked grin. “Sorry about the dramatic entrance.”
She glanced at him, giving him a onceover. His clothes were better than she’d imagined and they actually looked okay. His muscular thighs were encased in a pair of faded 501s. His white t-shirt was simple, but the cut was expensive. Below the sleeves, she saw the curve of biceps.
“So how long’s the journey?” she asked, trying to make polite conversation.
“Not that long, about eight hours.”
April gasped. “Are you serious? That’s epic.”
He smiled, his white teeth flashing. “Not for a Canadian, it isn’t. Hey, I have to ask. What exactly are you wearing?”
April brightened. She’d been wrong about him. He was into fashion, after all. “It’s a fabric corset,” she explained. “They’ve only just come out. Most people in London would give their right arm to get their hands on one. I only managed because I have contacts in the industry.”
Rory’s lips twitched. “And you wear it over a t-shirt?”
“Yes, but not just any t-shirt.”
His eyes danced. “A corset—that’s kind of French, isn’t it?”
“Exactly.” Now April was really smiling. “It’s how I like to dress. I always try to look as French as possible, but also slightly slutty.” She flushed. Maybe she shouldn't have told Rory that. “It’s my jumping off point when it comes to clothes.” Rory tipped back his head and let out a roar of laughter. He laughed so hard that he clutched his ribs.
“I … I think,” he said at last between breaths. “I think that’s the funniest thing that I’ve ever heard.”
She glared at him. Who was he to judge?