Page 47 of The Grump I Got Stuck With

Alistair’s lips twitched, clearly amused at my awe. “You live and work in a castle, you know.”

“That’s different,” I argued as he inched around me. “I’ve gotten used to the castle.” Sort of. “This is something I’m not used to.” His hand fell to my hip as he passed, and my pulse exploded, hammering at the base of my throat.

Being touched by him like that was something else I wasn’t used to, and I willed my heart to calm down. Now was not the time. I couldn’t be having these kinds of thoughts while trapped in a flying metal tube with him and his four-year-old daughter.

“There’s caviar and bubbly in the back if you want to get really fancy,” Alistair said, settling down on a plush sofa seat.

“Of course,” I quipped. What private jet didn’t have caviar?

“And ice cream that will change your life, according to Isla,” he added.

I hummed with interest. “I’d like to hear more about this ice cream.”

“Me too,” Kenna said, kicking her little feet with excitement. “Madison, sit beside me!”

I headed in Kenna’s direction, plopping down in the seat beside her. It felt like sitting on a cloud. I ran my hands over the smooth leather armrests. I was officially ruined for economy for the rest of my life.

Alistair’s phone rang and he answered it, humming in response to a question. “No, I’m not concerned,” he grumbled. “If you panic every time the market twitches, this partnership isn’t going to work.”

Silence followed.

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, not wanting to eavesdrop on business, but it was a little hard to avoid it inside the jet.

“I don’t care what the projections say; I care about timing. Either fix it or I’ll find someone who can.” His words were flat and final as he hung up.

“Everything okay?” I asked when he caught my eye.

He nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Just sorting some things before my meetings.”

“Sounded like they were getting a Lord Crankypants special,” I said. Alistair simply snorted, going back to his phone.

“Madison, watch this!” I turned as Kenna jammed her finger into a button on the console between us. The flight attendant appeared a moment later. “Can I have some juice please?”

The woman smiled at her. “Of course. And for you, ma’am? We have an excellent Cairngorm Cuvée on board, if that’s of interest.”

“She likes whiskey,” Alistair said without looking up from his phone.

The woman nodded. “I can do a MacRae single malt, if you’d prefer?”

“That’s Isla’s father’s company,” Alistair said. “It’s quite lovely.”

My eyes almost bugged out of my head at all the fancy options. But it was too much. I was used to drinking my Diet Coke and eating my slightly rubbery economy meal at the back of the plane. This was…wow. “Juice,” I squeaked, overwhelmed.

The woman blinked down at me. “Juice?”

I nodded, gesturing to Kenna. “I’ll have what she’s having.”

The flight attendant hurried away without commenting. Alistair, however, covered his face, trying to hide his laughter.

“What?” I asked, squirming in my seat.

“Juice?”

“I panicked.”

He laughed harder. Louder. Like it was the funniest thing he’d ever witnessed. He lowered his hand, grinning at me. Then he picked his phone up, typing furiously.

“What are you doing?”