body. I should probably gently remove my hand from his grasp, but I don’t. Frankly, it feels too damn good. Familiar. Instead, I entwine my fingers with his and smile politely at the group.
“Hey, guys, good to see ya,” Mack greets. “This is my friend, Lena. Lena, this is Peter Abbott with the PR department and Cash Huntington. He drives the other car, and of course you know Colton.”
“And don’t forget us.” We turn to the entrance of the plane, and I find the most beautiful woman standing there, holding a little boy’s hand. I know instantly who she is. Rylee Donavan.
“And Rylee and Ace,” Mack says, smiling at the little boy who’s a fixture at the company, just like his dad.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Rylee says, coming over and shaking my hand.
“Nice to meet you too,” I tell her, a little awestruck at seeing this family in the flesh, and not just on magazines, the internet, or television.
“If everyone will take their seats, we’re ready for takeoff,” the pilot announces over the speaker.
Just like that, everyone finds a seat within the small, yet roomy plane. I take the seat on the aisle so Mack can sit beside Oliver’s carrier, and buckle myself in. When Mack does the same, I realize my grave mistake. We’re sitting very close. Closer than we’ve sat since my arrival in Los Angeles. So close I can smell his soap and his aftershave.
Too close to not affect my sanity.
“You comfortable?”
I startle when Mack’s breath tickles my ear, his soft words like a ballad that serenades me somewhere else. “Yes,” I squeak, trying to sit up straight in the seat, giving him plenty of room.
As the plane taxies toward the runway, I glance around the cabin. The Donavans are sitting together, young Ace watching eagerly out the window, as the airport passes by. The others appear to be settling in for the flight. Cash has his eyes closed. The flight attendant takes her seat, while the captain relays that we’re clear for takeoff. The jet flies down the runway and launches into the sky. We’re airborne and heading toward Ohio in a matter of minutes.
“I can’t believe he’s still sleeping,” Mack says, gazing down at Oliver with a grin.
“They sleep a lot at this age. Or so I’ve read,” I reply, the corners of my mouth turning upward.
“You’re doing wonderful with him, Lean,” he tells me, reaching over and patting my hand. It’s a friendly gesture, except when he doesn’t take his hand from mine, it quickly turns from friendly to…more than friendly.
My heart is skipping around in my chest. That’s not a good thing, you know. The last thing I need is to get close to Mack Cruz again. You know, close. I’m leaving in a little over four weeks, and I can already tell that departure is going to suck donkey balls. That’s why it’s imperative I keep my distance.
Friends only.
With a small grin, I say, “Thanks.”
But I don’t move my hand.
I yawn again, my eyes growing heavy.
“Why don’t you get some rest? We have a few hours before we’re there. I’m probably going to head over to sit by Cash soon and talk strategy. We like to use this time to discuss different things we know about the race, the track, and the other teams.”
I glance over him to where Oliver continues to saw logs, his little mouth open in slumber. I’m totally jealous right now, thinking Mack’s offer to take a little nap is too good to pass up. “If you don’t mind,” I start.
“Of course not. It was an early morning for you too,” he reassures, squeezing my hand. “Take a nap.”
Mack relaxes in his seat and reaches over with his left index finger to gently stroke his son’s hand. Oliver actually sighs in contentment. The softest grin spreads across my lips as my eyes close. Mack’s so sweet and paternal, just the way I always suspected he’d be. Even if he wasn’t sure he’d have kids, I knew he’d be a good dad.
As I drift off to sleep, all I can think about is how he proved me right.
***
“Lena.” His husky timbre rouses me from a deep sleep. When I open my eyes, it’s his chocolate ones I’m gazing into, and I’ll be honest, my heart does this grand pirouette in my chest. “We’re about to land.”
I realize I’m sort of draped over the armrest, my head using his very muscular arm as a pillow. It’s a rather