Page 19

MyheadspinsasI hustle up the jet bridge to get away from the embarrassment of my accidental overdose. If all of that happened before even setting foot at the retreat, then I don’t want to imagine what insanity my curse might still have in store for me.

I push aside the thought when I am greeted by a Dunkin’ Donuts in the middle of the terminal. An enormous coffee is exactly what I need right now to clear my mind and try to get back on track before I turn right back around and purchase a ticket for the next available flight back home.

I head towards the line for coffee, noting the rain that hammers the glass walls that surround the terminal, and consider it a silver lining that I was unconscious for the landing in this inclement weather. Just as I take my place in line, my phone buzzes in my pocket again, this time with a local Charlotte number.

“Hello?” I try to say, but the yawn that comes out the second I open my mouth muffles the words into a strange sound.

“Hi, is this Drew?”

“Yes, this is she.” I stand up straighter in response to the voice on the other side of the call.

“I’m here to pick you up from the airport,” the man with a deep, velvety voice says, sending a strange sensation straight to my lower belly. I open my mouth to respond, but the Dramamine is making my brain fuzzy, so nothing comes out.

After a moment of silence, he speaks again. “Drew, are you there?”

“I’m here,” I squeak, as my cheeks blaze hot at the sound of my name being said a second time by a voice that could makea lotof money from those hotlines that charge by the minute.

He chuckles, and the sound raises goosebumps on my skin. “My name is Cameron. I am here to get you to the retreat. Have you made it to the baggage claim yet?”

I pull the phone back from my ear to look at the time, impressed with how quickly Gabe got the ride set up. “I am just in line for coffee,” I say, but count at least six people still in front of me. “On second thought, can you take me through a drive-through on the way? It might be quicker.”

“Of course. I’d be happy to.”

“Great!” I smile and dig through my purse to make sure I have cash so that I can tip him later for the detour. After I locate a twenty-dollar bill, I start walking in what I think is the right direction. “I just need to find my way out of here.”

“I can help. What terminal are you in?”

“Terminal A. I think. I was just at Dunkin’ Donuts.”

“Do you see the big silver tail fin ahead of you?”

I walk a few steps past the escalator. “Yes.”

“Head that direction.”

I do as I am told, keeping the phone to my ear.

Just as I am about to tell him that I made it, he speaks again. “Now take a right, and walk for a very, very long time until you see the Starbucks. Then turn left and follow the signs for baggage claim. Don’t be tempted to stop at the Starbucks, though. The place I am going to take you to is going to blow your mind.”

I giggle involuntarily, likely a residual effect of the Dramamine overdose, and start the trek. Cameron wasn’t kidding; the walk is lengthy, and my carry-on is feeling heavier by the minute. I groan at the pain in my shoulder and plop it on the floor for a break.

“You doing all right?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” I say, embarrassed that he has likely been forced to listen to my labored breathing as I’ve been lugging my bag along. Why didn’t I hang up? “I’ll call you when I get outside.”

“Sounds good.”

I end the call, and I shake my head a few times to clear it. I probably should have waited for the coffee back at Dunkin’ so that I could be coherent enough not to giggle like a schoolgirl anytime my driver speaks.

As I lug my bag past more shops and people inexplicably sitting in white rocking chairs, as if they have nowhere else to be, I can’t help but wonder what Cameron looks like. Knowing Gabe, he probably called some ex-Secret Service tactical driving company to pick me up, so that I would accept a ride without fear of my curse hurting them in some way.

Cameron’s voice is deep enough to fit the description, but there was a warmth to it that didn’t give off bodyguard vibes. Still, I would not be surprised if I walked out of here to find Cameron leaning against a black SUV with a tight suit and dark sunglasses.

I finally make it to the baggage claim area and try my best to avoid slipping on the wet floor to peek outside. The rain isstill coming down in a steady stream, but the pickup lanes are covered, so I step out of the humid airport and into the cool air outside to look around for a person who matches the image I have created of Cameron in my head. After ten minutes of searching and multiple SUVs zooming past me to pick up other people, I grab my phone to call him.

“Hey, are you outside?” he asks, and my breath catches in my throat at the sound of his voice again.

I mentally scold myself for being so affected by this man who is just trying to do his job.