think you’ve figured out how to stop that from happening. But it makes you emotionally clumsy, Dylan. And me, Stirling, Molly, my folks—we know how to avoid getting walloped. But Hunter’s entire life is predicated on not letting people down. If he lets people down, they die. And you two have to work together. He’s not going to just one-and-done you, because your life may depend on him. And how can you trust him if the two of you aren’t talking anymore?”
“And how can I trust him if I’ve hurt him,” Grace said, swallowing. Well, Josh had said he was smart, but apparently not smart enough to get this right off. His throat ached a little, and he found he was clinging to Josh’s hand. “But why won’t he even get to know me as a friend?” he asked plaintively, glancing over at Hunter now that the beverage cart had moved away.
Hunter was looking back.
He’d pulled his seat up and lifted his sunglasses so they perched on top of his head. His tray was down, and he had a soda, a glass of ice, and a couple of cookies on top of it, as well as a battered Clive Cussler paperback.
Grace took that all in peripherally, but in fact what he was really looking at was Hunter’s eyes.
Gray, they were absurdly pretty in his tanned face, and Grace took a deep breath and tried not to be an ass.
“If you want to be my friend,” Hunter said clearly, “maybe talk to me and stop waving your ass around.” And with that, he opened his book and began to read.
Grace’s face heated, and he looked determinedly away from Josh’s sympathetic gaze.
“I hate everybody,” he muttered.
“Sure you do.” Josh yawned, slid his tablet into its sleeve, and put it in the pouch of the seat in front of him. “Now hate me while you hold still and be my pillow.” With that, he grabbed the sweatshirt behind him, folded it neatly, and propped it on Grace’s shoulder before leaning his head against it. “Don’t wiggle.”
Coming from anyone else, that would have been hysterical, but not from Josh Salinger. Grace slouched a little, getting comfortable, put in his earbuds and leaned his cheek against the top of Josh’s head. In his ears Lady Gaga sang about rain, and Stirling clicked comfortingly on the keyboard next to him, the sound just under the hum of the plane.
Grace closed his eyes for a catnap, but not before casting one more depressed glance at Hunter, expecting him to be deep in his book.
He was—but right as Grace looked, he saw a flicker of movement in Hunter’s eyes. Grace smiled softly to himself.
Hunter had been looking too.
HUNTER, STIRLING, Grace, and Josh may have been flying business class, but Julia, Molly, and Tabby’s grandfather were all in first class. Dylan caught up with Artur Mikkelnokov at the luggage area, quick to help the older man with his suitcase. Grace had a roller board and a backpack, but Artur had his suit in a garment bag for their dinner the next night. When Tabitha had told her grandfather that Grace wanted to accompany him to make sure he wasn’t overdoing it, Artur had insisted on taking him someplace elegant, as was his custom.
“How was your flight, Dylan?” the older man asked, smiling kindly.
“Fine, Dance Master,” Grace replied automatically, and then he hid a yawn in his shoulder. “I caught a nap.”
Artur chuckled. “That’s good to hear. I sat by the most charming two women. See, there they are!”
He laughed and waved at Julia and Molly, who were both playing up the costuming with black wigs—a pageboy for Molly and a complex updo for Julia. Both of them wore dark, striking eye makeup and slim-fitting skirts with mod-cut blazers. They looked like a mother-daughter power duo, right down to their Coach bags.
Julia approached them, ignoring Grace like the professional she was. “It was so wonderful to chat with you, Artur,” she gushed. “I hope to see you again, since we’re staying in the same hotel.”
It didn’t surprise Grace that this had come out in conversation, but he was impressed. He’d danced for Artur for sixteen years, and he’d been to the man’s house three times—all of them for Tabitha’s birthday parties if she was doing something big that year. And although kind, Artur was not inclined to be chatty.
“That would be lovely, my dear.” He smiled charmingly. “In fact, since I’m taking my young protégé here out to dinner at