whoâd asked for her number and still hadnât called her. What was up with that? She realized her phone was in her hand, and Catherine was still talking.
âWhy would she say she wrote the book?â Daisy interrupted.
âMaybe she has a thing for him and thinks sheâll get his attention.â
âSheâll get attention, all right.â Daisy let out a long sigh.
âIâll keep watching this for you. Have a good flight.â
âThanks. Iâll see you in a few hours.â
Daisy hit End and stared at the clock on her phone. Sheâd better get a move on; being late was out of the question. The flight would be full of business travelers who were hungry and impatient to get to their destination and a few whoâd want a drink to take the edge off. If she made sure she was stocked up and ready, things always went better. She picked up the pace as she moved through crowds of people who seemed to have nothing better to do at four thirty AM than stand in front of a television, staring slack-jawed at the weather report.
There were three passengers sitting in the waiting area when she skidded to the gate. The gate agent was unlocking the Jetway door for Rachel.
âNice to see you,â Rachel joked.
âWhat happened to you this morning?â Rachel hadnât been on the crew shuttle.
âI overslept.â
Daisy and Rachel boarded the plane to start their workday.
âThatâs never happened before,â Daisy joked.
âOh, hell no. Some idiot in the next room was on his phone and yelling about something half the night. Imagine how late I would have been if you had had to bail me out of the LA jail.â
They stowed their luggage and got to work. It was important to make sure the first-class breakfast supplies were there, but Daisy knew sheâd better double-check the alcohol and the makings for drinks like Bloody Marys and mimosas. She was elbows-deep in the alcohol drawer when she heard a familiar male voice behind her.
âHey, Daisy, is that you?â
She almost hit her head on the warming oven as she straightened up to look at him. Grant Parker grinned back at her. âGood morning,â he said.
âWhat are you doing here?â she said. She wanted to bite her tongue. What a ridiculous thing to say. Plus, it was five AM , and Grant looked like heâd stepped out of the pages of GQ or something. He wore a pressed, button-down sports shirt in a subtle light-and-dark blue check, jeans, and a pair of black Chuck Taylor high-tops. Heâd rolled the sleeves up to his forearms. His hair was pulled into a loose bun at the base of his neck. A few sun-streaked strands of hair had escaped and caught in the stubble on his cheeks. His smile was warm. And his eyes sparkled as always.
There werenât many times in Daisyâs life she didnât know what to say, but this was one of them. He was gorgeous. And he was the last person she thought sheâd see this morning.
âI had to make a last-minute trip to LA last night.â He got a little closer. âI kind of hoped youâd be here.â
He reached out to take a piece of celery out of her hand sheâd almost stabbed him with. She could figure out why heâd been pre-boarded so early. Heâd probably been recognized, and the gate agent was afraid of a riot. Daisy wanted to talk to him, but for some reason, she couldnât think of a thing to say. She took a breath before she passed out. He smelled good too, like freshly showered guy. She wanted to lean forward. She could bury her nose in his shirt front and take a long sniff, but that would be even weirder than her standing here like a statue.
The pilots had finished their pre-flight check and were in the cockpit already.
âHey, Parker. Nice to see you,â one of them told him.
âGood to see you too, guys. Howâs it going?â Grant said.
âSo far, so good. We need to get you back for