Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“What kind of clothes do I need to pack?”
“What you’ve been wearing to the office this week should work.”
“Right.” I hang up before he can hang up on me again and hope he hates it as much as I do.
I get out of bed and go get my brand-new bright-pink suitcase from my spare room and rip off the tags before rolling it back and lifting it onto my bed. I never travel—or I’ve never traveled to anywhere I’d need a suitcase—so until I started planning the trip to Paris, I didn’t own one. Now, I’m glad I purchased this bad boy when I saw it on sale, or I’d be showing up with a backpack and a garbage bag full of stuff.
As I pack shorts, jeans, leggings, and T-shirts, and a couple summer dresses I wonder where we’re going and why Jace needs me with him. Thursday, when he came back to the office and we went over what would happen while he’d be gone, he didn’t bring up the big deal he’s working. And yesterday, while I was rescheduling meetings, I took a peek at his calendar for next week. Sure enough, it was blacked out with no information about what his plans are. So I really have no idea what is going on, but I do know someone who would.
Once I’ve got enough clothes for the week, I close up my suitcase and head to the bathroom with my cell. I stand at the sink with my thumb hovering over Christy’s number and glance at the time. I doubt she would be thrilled with me phoning her at five thirty in the morning on a Saturday, especially after she told me the last time we spoke that Ivy has been keeping her up all night.
With a shake of my head, I set my cell aside, then check my reflection in the mirror and take in my red-rimmed eyes that are a ramification of my late night. Because I knew I didn’t need to get up for work, I took a long bath, drank a huge glass of wine, then stayed up way too late watching a documentary on the volcano that destroyed Pompeii years ago. It was very interesting, but now I regret binge-watching TV for six hours instead of going to bed.
With a groan, I grab my toothbrush, then go through my morning routine before putting on my glasses, since I can’t wear my contacts. I get dressed in a pair of shorts, a tank, and an oversized hoodie. Shoving my feet into my flip-flops, I make sure my apartment is secure, then take my suitcase out to my car, dump it in the trunk, and get in behind the wheel.
I reach the small private airfield in less than fifteen minutes, and nervousness fills the pit of my stomach as I park in one of the many empty spots in the lot. The feeling has nothing to do with traveling alone with Jace and everything to do with flying.
Or at least that’s what I tell myself.
I tighten my ponytail, then grab my purse off the seat next to me and get out of my car. After a couple of tugs, I get my bag free from the trunk, then I drag in a deep breath as I roll it toward the simple-looking steel building.
As I reach the door, a woman wearing a fitted blazer and skirt with heels steps outside and smiles at me. “Penny?”
“Yes.” I stop in front of her, and she reaches out, taking the handle of my bag from my grasp as she speaks.
“I’m Donna. Mr. Ellis is waiting for you on the plane. If you come with me, I’ll scan your license into the system, have you sign a couple of documents, then walk you out to meet him.”
“Oh, okay.” I step inside the building when she motions for me to walk ahead of her. As we make our way across the glossy concrete floors, I look around the expansive space with a counter taking up the front portion. The rest of the open room is filled with fancy chairs, tables, and a kitchen, where pastries and coffee are set out.
“Would you like to get something to eat or drink?” she asks when we get to the counter, and my stomach churns at the idea of putting something inside it.
“No, thank you.” I dig through my purse for my wallet, then hand over my ID card.
“All right, this should just take a couple of minutes.” She takes my card and places it into a machine that almost immediately spits it back out the bottom.
“Do you know where we’re going?” I ask, trying to see the computer she’s looking at, and she lifts her eyes to mine.
“Wenatchee.”
“Wenatchee?” I repeat, having no clue where that is.