Page 12 of Off Plan

“I’m so sorry for the delay, sir! It seems your bag ended up on a flight to Ohio instead of Sarasota.” He grimaced. “I’ve put in a request for it to be transferred here, and we’ll deliver it to youmomentarily!”

“Momentarily,” Serial Killer Guy repeated dryly. “Lotta moments between here and Ohio.”

For once, he wasn’t wrong.

“When you say momentarily, you mean…” I prompted.

“Three to five business days.” Bertram was a picture of disappointment.

“And since today is Friday…” I let the words hang there, and Bertram didn’t rush to fill them. I sighed. “Right, then.”

“I can’t read your writing,” Rachel complained. She thrust the paper toward Serial Killer Guy with a grimace. “Does this sayBoom? Is this a practical joke, sir?Is this a bomb threat, sir?”

I snorted and Serial Killer Guy shot me a glare.

“I’ll have your bag forwarded to you as soon as possible at your Florida address,” Bertram said, passing me back my claim stubs. “Thank you so much for flying with JetSet, Doctor…”

“Are you kidding?” Serial Killer Guy handed the note back to Rachel. “It’s clear as day. It says…”

“Bloom,” Bertram and Serial Killer Guy concluded together.

Serial Killer Guy turned toward me, and for the briefest second, his jaw went slack with the same kind of dismayed shock I knew had to be written all over my face.

“Bloom.MasonBloom.” He said this in an angry-but-resigned sort of way, like I was no worse than he’d expected, but significantly worse than he deserved. A statement, not a question.

I nodded slowly anyway. “And you… You can’t be my…” I swallowed. “Ride?”

“Welcome to Florida, Loafers,” Serial Killer Guy said, his lips parting on a very false, veryferalsmile.

Well, fuck.

Chapter Three

Fenn

Of all theshit ideas Rafe Goodman, Senior, had ever shat, the one right now trailing me to the parking lot was the shittiest.

“I was expecting a sign,” Loafers mumbled, like the world had conspired against him somehow. “You were supposed to be holding a sign.”

All I could think of was Beale and his signs, his stupidportents. But there was no way the Universe could have engineered this level of tomfuckery. This was all decidedly man-made. And I knew exactly which man had done it.

“Yeah? Well, you were supposed to be…” I stopped and turned to look at Loafers when we reached the back of my Charger. He was red-faced and sweaty already, his brown hair stuck to his temples as he attempted to haul three rolling suitcases across the uneven asphalt. I’d debated helping him for a hot second, then remembered that adversity built character… and this guysorelyneeded some.

“Actually, I have no idea what you were supposed to be. I didn’t know you existed until a couple hours ago.” I heaved a dramatic sigh. “Looking back, it was such a peaceful time in my life.”

I still wasn’t sure exactly what Rafe’s plan for his newest “employee” was, but I was pretty sure the guy at the baggage desk had called Loafers “doctor,” and given the shit Rafe had said that morning, a picture was starting to come together in my mind—a picture I did not like or approve of at all,thankyouverymuch, especially when it involved this pasty snob with a silver spoon up his ass.

Loafers glanced up at me, his green eyes all cranky like he was trying to be intimidating and didn’t know he was failing miserably. “Uhhhh… why are you stopping?”

I leaned against the side of the Charger. “Uhhhh… because this is my car?”

“You… Your…” He blinked at my baby—a vintage 1968 beauty in racing green, which happened to be the only useful thing my dad had left me—and blinked again. “Did you not bring the town car?”

“The town car!” I hooted, truly amused for the first time that day. “No, Loafers. My town car’s in the shop. Along with my limo, my flying unicorn, my horse-drawn carriage, and my magic fucking carpet.” I popped the trunk, leaned a hip against the quarter panel, and nodded toward his bags. “Get crackin’.”

“But I…” He looked from his three suitcases—two large, one gigantic enough to hold a child comfortably—to my trunk, which already contained a spare tire and a bunch of my tools, and then to me. “I have concerns.”

“Understatement,” I agreed mildly. “Hope you have some rope in one of those bags so we can tie something to the roof.”