19
Emery
No, we definitely were not driving.
I stared at the Wright private jet with equal parts shock and awe. It was a gorgeous, sleek machine that would get us to Austin in just over an hour. And we had it all to ourselves. I’d joked about him having a private jet only a couple of weeks ago, and here I was, about to be on the damn thing. It felt beyond surreal.
“Allow me to get your bags, Ms. Robinson,” a man said. He was decked out in a suit and looked proper as f**k.
“Oh, um…okay,” I said, relinquishing my bags.
“Thank you, Robbie,” Jensen said. He took my hand in his and smiled down at my stunned face. “Why do you seem so surprised? You knew we were flying.”
“Sure. Just…crazy.” I closed my mouth and tucked my other hand into my back pocket to try to cover my discomfort at the
