Page 18 of The Best Wild Idea (Off-Limits #3)

As soon as the pilot mentions we’ve reached cruising altitude, Jules makes a hasty beeline for the back of the plane where the bed is already made.

“Let me know when I need to buckle up again,” she calls back before disappearing behind the closed door.

I manage to get a bit of work done, and six hours later, after Andy has retrieved her from the plane’s only bedroom, she’s back beside me, buckling the seatbelt over her hips.

“How was your nap?” I ask. Her hair has been tied back at the nape of her neck and long tendrils spill out across her delicate collarbones. Some color has returned to her cheeks, and she looks more rested than she did all morning.

“Fine,” she answers, yawning.

“Good afternoon,” the pilot’s voice crackles over the loudspeaker. “There’s going to be some moderate turbulence as we make our descent into Bern. Please stay buckled until after we land. Attendants, that goes for you too, especially you, Andy.”

I hear a loud chuckle from the service kitchen.

“Roger that!” Andy hollers toward the cockpit, and I smile, once again, glad to have a bit of humor on the plane with us.

I glance at Jules. Her eyes are closed again.

“Wonderful,” she murmurs without stirring. “I love a good rollercoaster ride forty thousand feet up.”

“A little turbulence never hurt anyone,” I say, doing my best to sound reassuring. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

“No offense, Si, but I don’t think you’re going to be able to do a damn thing if this plane decides that it doesn’t love whatever air pockets we’re coming into at five hundred miles an hour.” Apparently the long nap didn’t sweeten her mood.

We hit a pocket of air that makes the plane feel like it’s in freefall for a fraction of a second.

She gasps and her hand instinctively shoots over the aisle between us.

She digs her nails into my forearm. The plane dips again and she holds her breath, squeezing tighter, like her hold on me might actually save her if this thing goes down.

When the plane rights itself, she relaxes a bit.

“Sorry,” she says, loosening her grip, still keeping her eyes shut, then wraps both arms in front of her chest.

I’m reminded of how odd it is for her to be here with me — to be reaching out to me right now instead of Grant.

Another air pocket jolts the plane down, then up.

“Oh my God,” she murmurs under her breath, grabbing onto my arm again. This time tighter than before. “Tell Gloria to calm the fuck down.”

“Ol’ Gloria is keeping us in the air, and besides, Carl is a former military pilot I recruited.

He’s flown through worse while dodging combat fire.

I also have a team of engineers prep the planes before every flight.

You have literally nothing to worry about.

” I pat her hand just as she pulls it back.

“Don’t do that,” she snaps.

“Do what?” I ask.

“That.” She points to the hand I’ve just used to pat hers.

I thought it might make her feel better but clearly I got that wrong, too.

“I get that Grant told you that you have to do this trip with me. I’m not totally sure why you agreed, since there’s nothing in this for you.

But you don’t have to act like you care more about me now than you used to just because we’re here.

I’m not one of the girls from your tabloid photos who might be impressed with all this.

” She waves her hands around the jet. “So, you don’t have to try and impress me by talking about engineers and fighter pilots you found.

” She settles back against her seat again.

“I think you know me a little better than that. Or at least you did at one point.”

“Sorry,” I mutter, shifting in my seat. I’d like to argue back, tell her that she’s wrong but I’ll leave it at that for now. “I’m just trying to reassure you that it’s going to be fine.”

She relaxes her shoulders a fraction of an inch. “Well, I’m glad you’re on top of safety — just don’t feel like you have to flaunt it.”

Flaunt it? I narrow my eyes. “I’ll add it to the list, Jules,” I murmur, possibly too quiet for her to hear, then add a bit louder, “And I do, by the way.”

“You do what?”

“Care. About you. Now. Then. Always have,” I tell her smoothly and calmly as if I’m reciting an indisputable fact from a history book.

Another pocket of air makes the plane dip, harder this time, before righting again. Jules’ hand shoots back to my forearm, grabbing it even harder.

I look down pointedly at her nails digging into my skin, then up at her face. Her eyes are still closed but she cracks a discreet smile, as if she knows she’s being ridiculous. She might want comfort right now, but she’s not going to pretend like it’s okay coming from me.

I smirk in her direction, even though she can’t see it, before straightening my face to stare at the back of the seat a few yards in front of me. I’ll play the game. I’ll allow her hand to squeeze my arm harder with each passing moment without acknowledging that it’s even there.

I peek one eye over at her.

She must feel my gaze and the obnoxious grin that accompanies it.

“Shut up and just let me hold your arm,” she mumbles. Then she yelps when the plane takes another sizable dip.

I chuckle and shake my head toward the front of the plane when Andy pops his head out of the galley to check on us. I wave him off silently, wondering what Grant might think if he could see us right now. Probably happy that we’re together, if not still on rocky territory.

“Sure, Jules,” I say, under my breath, still smiling to myself. “Whatever you need.”

* * *

Things don’t get much better once we arrive at the hotel.

“What do you mean we’re staying in the same suite? Monica said she would look into changing that.”

Jules is staring at me like I’ve just thrown a glass of ice water over her head, both annoyed and wildly unimpressed.

“I believe she said it was too late for this hotel,” I say, getting a nod from the attendant on the other side of the check-in counter.

We’re standing in the lobby of Interlaken’s most beautiful luxury hotel, right in front of the reservations desk.

The opulent motif in here is like an old-world chalet sandwiched between two glowing turquoise mountain lakes, each fed by the towering snow-capped mountain peaks surrounding them.

But Juliet’s excitement and awe for the scenery subsided the moment the attendant behind the counter mentioned our one and only suite reservation was ready.

“You can’t be serious, Silas. You have more money than God, which we don’t even need to discuss. Just get another one so I can have this one.”

She turns back to the attendant and slaps her credit card on the counter.

“You know what? I’ll just pay for another room,” she says, throwing a bit of cheer into her voice.

The attendant doesn’t move, clearly waiting for our squabble to end.

“This is how Grant asked Monica to set up the reservations,” I remind her, pushing her credit card back toward her.

Apparently, Monica gave her false hope. “You won’t even know I’m there once we’re checked in.

There are multiple rooms in the suite. This is how Grant set it all up so let’s just go with it. ”

“Well, Grant’s dead.” We both cringe at the word dead , but she continues, turning back toward the worker behind the counter. “So, he doesn’t get to make the arrangements anymore. I’d like my own, please.”

She slides the card back across the reservation desk toward the woman checking us in.

“I’m sorry, it’s the only suite of rooms we have open currently, but it’s a two-bedroom setup so there’s separate sleeping quarters, a living room, and a dining area,” she tells my surly travel partner. “It’s quite private for you both.”

“You heard her. It’s quite private,” I repeat.

She glares at me, nose flaring with every inhale, like she’d rather bolt from this hotel than stay in any room that’s connected to mine.

She turns back to the attendant.

“I’ll take a non-suite then, please. And there’s supposed to be a letter waiting for me here?”

“The only other room I have open is . . . quite nice.”

Jules lets out a long breath and pushes the credit card to the edge of the counter, nearly tipping it onto the worker’s keyboard.

“Wonderful. I’ll take it.”

“It’ll be eleven hundred per night, plus taxes and fees. And I’ll need your passports to check you in as well.”

Jules’ jaw drops.

“As in, dollars?”

“As in Swiss francs. That’s roughly thirteen hundred dollars per night, plus the taxes and fees.”

She clears her throat while I swallow down a laugh. Then she tilts her chin toward me, eyes wide. I’m busy restricting another chuckle while I watch her face morph into a defiant grin.

“I’ll take it,” she announces, keeping her eyes locked on mine.

I grab her card off the counter.

“No, she won’t,” I tell the attendant. I turn to Jules. “Juliet Hart, you’re being ridiculous. Just follow his plan. I won’t go near your room. Why would I, seeing as you’ve been so fun to travel with this far?” I add, sarcastically.

She sighs, then silently debates her options. Finally, she takes her card back and stuffs it in her wallet.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mumbles under her breath. “Fine. Whatever.” Then she rummages through her handbag and slaps her passport down on the counter before turning toward me. “Do you have yours?”

“Does this mean we’re checking in?” I ask, removing my passport from my briefcase. I hold it above the countertop until she confirms. “Just one suite?”

“Just give her the damn passport, Silas,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “Let’s get the key to the suite so we can get our hands on the letter, and then we’ll talk about accommodations. I’m too hungry to argue about this anymore.”

The attendant’s face brightens.

“Yes, I see a note about that here in your reservation. It looks like the letter has been left in our hotel safe for quite some time now. If I can get both of your passports, please . . .” She pauses to eyeball me.

“It says you both need to sign for it.” The attendant is calm, ignoring the spat we’ve just had, as if she’s watched thousands of couples argue at check-in.

Even though Jules and I are definitely not a couple.

“And it looks like it will be released to you once you’ve checked into the suite . ”

I place my passport next to hers. Andy, Carl, and the rest of the flight crew are staying at another hotel in town — giving them much needed privacy from the two of us. Fortunately, it’s just Jules and I here now in the lobby.

“It’s not about having a fancy set of rooms,” I tell her. “I won’t go near your side. It’s just how the reservations were made. For whatever reason, this is how Grant planned it.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit late for that? It’s not like he can jump out and scold us for disobeying his almighty travel plan. It was probably just an oversight anyway. Grant was always very frugal.”

“You’re not going to be this big of a pain in the ass the entire trip, are you?” I ask before I can stop myself.

The attendant tucks her lips behind her teeth, but continues to check us in silently.

“Are you?” Jules shoots back. The corners of her mouth rise, her angry facade cracking ever so slightly as if she’s slightly enjoying this.

I’m about to respond, but her lips widen. It’s the first semblance of a smile since we landed here in Switzerland, and I decide to just let her have this round.

“Fair,” I tell her. “I promise not to bother you once we’re checked in.”

“Fine. But don’t expect me to come out of my side unless it’s to eat. Or drink. Excessively ,” she adds.

I hold in a laugh.

“It’s a deal.”

“What are we doing here in Interlaken anyway?”

“Skydiving,” I tell her matter-of-factly while grabbing both key cards off the counter. “We’re jumping out of a plane in the morning.”

She turns, eyes bulging, just as the attendant places a familiar-looking envelope down on the counter between us.

The stiff yellowed paper is marked with Juliet’s name, scribbled across the front in Grant’s telltale writing. Seeing this little piece of him again pulls something apart inside me. Right before she can snatch it away and head off toward the room.