Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
When I get back downstairs, I’m relieved to see Maxim smiling as he talks with July and Wes about Vegas and them coming out to visit at some point. While we all chat, I help him finish making breakfast, then we sit around my table to eat. Thankfully, there’s no more talk about my ex, murders, or anything else that could possibly send Maxim over the edge.
Chapter 11
April
LOOKING OUT THE window as the plane taxies toward a small building at a private airport just outside of Vegas, I glance over at Maxim when he squeezes my thigh. I watch him smile before he goes back to talking on the phone, something he did pretty much the entire four-hour flight while I slept and watched a movie.
One thing can be said about having money, and that is travel is a whole lot less stressful, but I have to admit I missed getting a coffee, a magazine, and junk food before getting on the plane. Not that the food and coffee that was served to us by the flight attendant was anything to complain about. My normal airline would never serve eggs Benedict. Really, I’d be lucky to get a pack of peanuts nowadays.
When the wheels roll to a stop, I unhook my belt and take off the sweater I wore over my tank top, the hot Vegas sun already heating up the interior of the cabin. It gets even worse when the flight attendant opens the door. Hearing a quiet meow, I look down at Binx’s carrier and lean over to stick my finger through the bars and rub his nose.
“You did so good,” I tell him, and he blinks at me, seeming a little dazed.
“Whatever your sister gave you for him worked.” Maxim stands, and I tip my head back to look up at him. “He slept as much as you did.”
“Plane rides always put me to sleep, and July said that might happen. I’m just glad he wasn’t anxious the entire flight.” I grab my purse and push up out of my seat while he picks up Binx’s carrier. After a quick thank you and goodbye to the pilot and flight attendant, we head down the steps to the tarmac, where he takes my hand.
“Don’t we need to get our bags?” I ask as we walk across the black asphalt toward a gray metal building.
“No, they’ll make sure they’re given to our driver.”
“Of course, how could I forget that our driver will get our bags?” I say sarcastically, and he looks down at me and grins. When we reach the building, he opens the door for us to go inside, and I see that—like the private terminal in Nashville—there is just one counter and a large seating area where a couple of men are hanging out. He doesn’t stop to talk to anyone, just walks us through and out the front doors toward a black Escalade with dark-tinted windows.
As we near the hood, the driver’s door opens, and an older gentleman wearing a suit gets out with a wide smile on his weathered face as he looks between us.
“I see you got what you went to Tennessee for,” he says, his eyes locked on Maxim, who squeezes my hand.
“I did,” Maxim confirms, then dips his chin my way. “This is Charles, an old family friend. Charles, I’d like you to meet April.”
“Nice to meet you, Charles.”
“You too, April.” He grins at me, then pats Maxim on the back. “You two get out of the sun, and I’ll grab your bags.”
“Thanks,” Maxim tells him, resting his hand on my lower back and urging me into the dark, cool interior of the car, then placing the carrier between the two captain seats. Once we’re all settled inside, the door is shut, making it almost pitch-black inside. Grabbing my phone out of my bag, I send off a quick text to my sisters and parents, letting them know we arrived safely.
“How far is your place?” I ask when Binx starts to meow loudly from between us while pawing the door of the carrier.
“About ten minutes or less. Do you want to hold him?”
“I don’t think that will go over well. He doesn’t even like being held in a unmoving vehicle, and it would suck if he distracted Charles while he was driving.”
“You’re right.” He glances over his shoulder when the trunk of the car is opened, and I turn to watch Charles as he loads our bags inside. Or I should say my bags, since Maxim left most of his stuff at my house and only traveled with a small duffle.
“Are you heading straight home?” Charles asks a moment later, getting in behind the wheel.
“We are,” Maxim tells him, lifting my hand to his lips and kissing my knuckles.
“Do you come to Vegas often, April?” Charles glances back at me as he reverses out of the parking space.