“Wow.”
The pride in his eyes had her pulling back her shoulders. Couldn’t he see he could depend on her? Trust her?
“I can’t cancel, Shane.” Because that would be giving up. And she wasn’t going to give up. On her new accounts, on August Industries.
Or on the man who built it.
Chapter 34
The next morning, Shane came along when Crickitt went to see Angel. Once he focused on work, he relaxed, an easy smile replacing the frown lines around his mouth. He was acting so normal it was hard for her to believe the circumstances that brought her down here in the first place.
After their meeting concluded, Shane put his arm around his cousin. “Thanks for helping Crickitt with things while I was out. I appreciate it.”
Angel patted him on the back, understanding in her eyes. “Sure. You know, you’re like family to me.”
Shane smiled, giving Angel a brief squeeze and kissing her forehead.
When he pulled away, Angel cocked her head. “You seem…okay, Shane.” She flicked a look at Crickitt, one filled with gratitude if Crickitt wasn’t mistaken. “I’m glad you came,” she said.
Crickitt nodded, speechless. “I’d um, better get going. I’m due in Miami soon.”
“Yes.” Shane straightened and walked over to her, pinning her with a meaningful gaze. “We have a flight to catch.”
“We?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed thickly. “We.”
* * *
“Would you stop staring at me?” Shane barked from his plush leather chair in the private jet. The pilot announced takeoff in five minutes, and since then Shane had been clutching the seat’s arms like they held the plane together.
The engines whined and he mumbled something incoherent, the color draining from his face.
“Shane—”
“Don’t talk.” He scrunched his eyes closed. A sheen of sweat slicked his brow.
The wheels rolled beneath them, his breathing speeding alongside them. Crickitt worried he might hyperventilate if she didn’t do something to distract him. Thinking fast, she lifted her phone and pretended to study the display. “Did you happen to see Angel’s e-mail?”
Shane sent her a pasty look. “Don’t use your phone during takeoff.” He gripped the seat tightly. “Man, it’s hot in here.”
“Aren’t you concerned about replacing her?”
“Replacing her?”
“She sent it an hour ago. I guess she was uncomfortable telling you in person.”
“Telling me what?”
“She put in her notice. She’s leaving us next month.”
“The hell she is.” Shane reached into his pocket. Halfway through dialing, he tucked the phone away again. “Remind me to call her when we land.” Under his breath he muttered, “If we land.”
The plane angled into the air, and the captain’s voice crackled to life over the speaker. Shane returned his death grip to the armrests, pressing his head against the back of his seat. Eyes closed, he slid the panel over the small window next to him.
“She won’t let you talk her into staying,” Crickitt called over the scream of the engine. “She’s too excited about being a stay-at-home mom.”
Shane snapped his eyes open but only stared at his lap as the plane’s speed increased. “She’s pregnant? I didn’t even know she was seeing someone.”
“You didn’t?” she asked as the wheels left the ground.
“No,” he said, frowning at her. “I didn’t.”
The plane leveled out.
“It’s Richie’s. The new assistant designer?”
“What?”
Crickitt smiled at him, sliding the screen away from her window. A calm blue sky filled each corner and fluffy white clouds sailed by.
Shane reached over and lifted his screen, staring out the window for a few seconds before turning back to Crickitt.
“You were teasing me,” he said.
“Yes. And frankly, I’m insulted you didn’t figure it out sooner.”
Chapter 35
Shane took a gulp of his drink, watching as Crickitt moved across Henry Townsend’s patio like a pro. She charmed everyone equally, be it Henry, his wife, or a member of the catering staff.
“She’s incredible.”
Shane turned toward the gruff voice reading his mind. Henry stood behind him, his usual scowl replaced by a neutral expression. Crickitt stood next to a man on Townsend’s payroll, a glass of champagne in her hand, a wide smile on her lips.