sunshine blazed hot on my shoulders as I pulled the hood on my black jacket over my blond hair. It was the best way to keep from being recognized, and with the mood I was in, it would do no good to be spotted by a fan today.
The summer breeze blew across my face, bringing that clean mountain air to my nose. We’d spent too many days breathing recycled air in buses and planes and hotels. I might have traded my country upbringing for a life in the city and preferred it as such, but this fresh, pure air was unbeatable.
Montana had a wholly unique smell of mountains and majesty.
I reached the terminal door too soon and stepped into the air conditioning. Ethan had reserved a rental car and a hotel suite for me, and as soon as I was checked into my room, I was planning on a long, hot shower. Then I’d unpack and go through the hotel move-in routine I’d perfected over the years.
My toiletries would be lined up beside the bathroom sink. I’d put my clothes in drawers and stow my suitcase in the closet. Then I’d search for a TV channel in a foreign language. I didn’t speak a foreign language, but I liked the background noise to drown out any sounds from the hallway.
It was a trick I’d learned in Berlin on our first European tour. These days, I couldn’t sleep in a hotel room without the TV blaring some drama in Spanish, French or German.
If it was loud enough, I’d be able to cry without fear someone would overhear.
I spotted the rental car desk, but before I could aim my feet in that direction, a familiar face caught my eye.
The world blurred.
Standing in the lobby of the airport was the boy I’d left behind.
Graham Hayes.
Except he wasn’t a boy anymore. He’d grown into a man. A handsome, breathtaking man who belonged on the cover of People beside Jonas and Nix.
He stood motionless with his eyes locked on me. The airport had been remodeled since I’d left, but the spot where he stood was almost exactly the place where I’d left him nine years ago. He’d been standing at the base of a staircase, watching me walk away.
I wouldn’t fool myself into thinking he’d been waiting here for my return.
What the hell was Graham doing here? I wasn’t ready to face him yet. I wasn’t ready to face any of them yet, but especially Graham.
He broke out of his stare and unglued his feet. His strides were easy and confident as he walked my way. His square jaw was covered in a well-trimmed beard, the shade matching the brown of his hair. It was longer than how he’d worn it as a teenager. Sexier. The man he’d become was beyond any version that I’d imagined during many lonely hotel nights.
I gulped as he neared. My heart raced.
This was not the plan. I was supposed to rent a car, go to my hotel and regroup. I needed time to regroup, damn it, and time to prepare.
Graham’s long legs in dark jeans ate up the distance between us. The sound of his boots on the floor pounded with the same thud of my heart.
Before I was ready, he stood in front of me.
“Quinn.” His voice was smooth and deep, lower than I remembered. He used to say my name with a smile, but there wasn’t a hint of one on his face.
“Hi, Graham.”
He wore a Hayes-Montgomery Construction T-shirt. My mother had sent me one of the same for Christmas two years ago.
He was the Hayes.
My brother, Walker, was the Montgomery.
The black cotton stretched across his broad chest. I’d spent many nights with my ear against that chest, but it hadn’t been as muscled back then. It had held promise, though, of the man he’d become.
The man he had become.
Everything about Graham seemed to have changed, even those golden-brown eyes. The vibrant color was the same as I saw in my dreams, but they were colder now. Distant. A change I couldn’t blame on time.
No, that one was on me.
“Let’s go.” He ripped the handle of my suitcase from my grip.
“I have a car reserved.” I pointed to the rental kiosk, but Graham turned and walked toward the doors. “Graham, I have a car.”
“Cancel it,” he clipped over a shoulder. “Your mom asked me to pick you up.”
“Fine,” I grumbled, yanking my phone from my pocket. Texting Ethan while keeping up with Graham’s punishing pace was difficult,