“Bye,” I say, bursting through the gates of the plane. I’m running down the terminal dragging my carry-on behind me. I’m breathing heavily—between the running and the clothes, it’s like a sweat lodge in here.

I don’t have the patience to deal with my new-old friend; I’m already rattled enough. Heading to a new state with a guy I hardly know is more than enough to do the trick.

Sure, I’ve talked on the phone with Ryan more than I’ve ever talked to anyone in my life. It sort of feels like we’ve known each other forever, but in the grand scheme of things, we’re new, and the feelings are strong.

I don’t stop jogging until it’s too late, and I barrel into the waiting area. I mean to dodge the other passengers and slow down, maybe use the restroom to reapply perfume and mascara, scrub some of that gross airplane air off of me, but I’m totally out of it. I crash into the first pair of arms I see.

The embrace is familiar, his arms strong as bricks, muscle twined beautifully underneath a simple white shirt. These arms are attached to a sturdy torso, a chest so firm I let out a puff of air as I hit it, losing what little breath I have left.

The legs underneath this torso are gorgeous in a pair of worn jeans, as if someone styled Ryan Pierce for a country fashion catalogue, and of course all these body parts are attached to the sexiest face on the planet.

“You sure are in a hurry to see someone,” he says, those chocolate eyes of his melting my stomach to nothing. “I sure hope it’s me.”

“Yes,” I say. “Definitely yes.”

His eyes twinkle, and in the next second he’s got me dipped, carry-on and all, in front of all the passengers and airline staff. I hear at least one woman sigh, and a man near the back whistles loud enough to pop an eardrum.

The kiss is just as fantastic as I remember, if not better. Our month apart has both of us burning for more, and if I’m not mistaken, one or both of us will spontaneously combust into flames as soon as we’re alone.

“Hi,” he whispers against my neck as he returns me to my feet.

“Hi,” I say back.

“Let’s get out of here.” He grabs my hand. “Please.”

I nod, mute, and follow him.

He leads me through the airport, and I have to admit, I feel like a queen. Ryan Pierce didn’t only pick me up from the airport, he showed me off to the world, and by George—whoever George actually is—I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.

If we part ways after this wedding, my heart is going to hurt.

A part of me wishes I’d played by the rules, had never let any of this evolve into anything more than the physical relationship I requested.

But the other part of me, that little corner of my heart that my dad tugged at with his words of advice—that part of me is content.

Despite all my efforts to remain distant, I am falling in love with Ryan Pierce.

CHAPTER 37

Ryan

She’s even more beautiful than I remember. Despite the odd getup she’s got on, she’s the prettiest person in the entire airport. We shuffle into my waiting car, which I parked illegally at the curb while praying airport security would be light during the lunch hour.

I hold my breath as we push through the doors.

“Where are you parked?” she asks, scanning the pickup lane.

“Here.” I gesture to the truck right before us, its hazards blinking.

“But—” She frowns and bites her lip, and it’s the most adorable thing ever. I want to lean over, nibble on that lip for her, but she’s too busy glancing furiously toward the man in a security uniform strolling toward my vehicle.

“Ask questions later,” I say. “Hop inside.”

She lets out a flustered laugh, one I take to mean she’s amused at the narrow escape from the parking lot attendant. We pull away from the curb just as the man scratches his stomach, looks toward our car, then to the doors of the airport, and then back again. He waves a hand and continues his stroll.

“You weren’t supposed to park there!” She faces me, her face flushed. “You could’ve waited outside for me so you didn’t risk a ticket. What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.” I take my eyes off the wheel for a split second to look into hers, hopefully conveying some of my excitement about seeing her again. “You texted me that you landed and you were running early, so I ditched the car to meet you at the gate.”

Her eyes blink once, and then she turns to stare out the window. “You didn’t have to do that.”

I reach over and rest a hand on her leg. I’m determined to make sure this weekend isn’t weird in any way, even if she’s decided she doesn’t want anything physical. Maybe she’s met someone, or maybe she’s decided this is a horrible idea. Regardless, I’ve already decided to make sure she has a good time in my home state.

“So, how’ve you been?” I ask, struggling to keep my voice even.

“Since we talked last night?” She gives me a mischievous smile, and we’re back. The awkwardness is gone, the tension dispelled, and we’re the two people who have become inexplicably intertwined over a pizza. “Good, except for a creep on the plane who tried to stare down my shirt. Oh, and Lisa says hi.”

“Hello to Lisa,” I say, trying not to show my annoyance about the creep. “If you got a name, I’m happy to pay him a visit.”

“Relax!” she says on a laugh. “He was eighty years old.”

I’m grumbling about it, but I back off. Might as well save the frustration for the rink.

“So, this is Minnesota?” She gestures to the green landscape as we drive toward the suburbs where my family has a little farmhouse. “I thought it would be colder than this.”

“Is that why you’re wearing…uh, whatever it is you have on?”

She looks down at her mismatched outfit. It’s almost like something out of a cartoon, but somehow she manages to rock it like a supermodel. She’s got a stiff little jacket, tight jeans that show off her gorgeous legs, and boots that go up to her knees, despite the fact that it’s the middle of summer.

“By erratic weather, I meant sometimes it rains,” I say. “It does snow, but that’s in winter. I’m thinking I should have been more clear.”

The sun has arrived today, extra bright, sparkling even, as if to show Andi just how beautiful the countryside can be. We pass the huge center where we play our home games, and I point it out to her. Then we pass through St. Paul and continue on I-94 toward our neighboring state.

“You live in Wisconsin?” she asks, her eyes watching the sign.

“Of course not,” I say. “I’m not a traitor.”

“Didn’t mean to touch a nerve.”

“We don’t joke about these state lines,” I say with a smile. “I live near the border.”

“And what is our plan for today?”

“My mother and Lilia are out shopping or whatever,” I tell her, suggestion heavy in my voice. “So I can show you to your room…”

“You don’t waste any time, do you?”

“I see our minds are in the same place.”

She gives the slightest shake of her head, but she doesn’t deny it. A second later, she slides her soft fingers into mine, locking them there, and I sense a whisper of curiosity.

I squeeze her hand, tightly, letting her know the gesture is more than welcome. I step on the gas, floor it, and concentrate on getting us home as quickly as humanly possible.

It’s not a far drive, but I can’t last much longer. Sitting this close to her, smelling the scent of her still damp hair wrapped into a messy thing on top of her head, is intoxicating.

We’re home in ten minutes flat, the fastest I’ve managed to make this journey. I give her the fastest tour of the house ever. It’s empty, which is a miracle in itself with five of us brothers.

We’re all back in town to see Lawrence get hitched. He’s the second youngest, a little spoiled, but we’re all happy for him. I’m also happy we don’t see my family right away as I lead Andi straight to my old bedroom.