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Chapter Two

Savannah

I fidget with the cord of my headphones as I make my way through the airport, trying to shake off the nerves crawling up my spine.

Chicago. It’s been years since I’ve been back, but I need this. I need to see Millie, talk to her about... everything.

The shitshow with Lemons is spiraling out of control, and if anyone can help me salvage what’s left of my reputation, it’s her. She’s got millions of followers, and with the right push, maybe I won’t be the chef everyone remembers for that disaster .

I glance at the gate and flash my boarding pass to the attendant. She smiles, scans it, and says, “You’ve been upgraded to first class, Ms. Brooks.”

Well, damn. That’s a sign, right? A stroke of luck, finally. Maybe things are turning around for me.

I flash her a quick smile, pull my headphones back over my ears, and head to my seat. First class isn’t too bad. A little luxury after everything that’s gone to shit? I’ll take it.

I settle into the wide seat, tossing my sweater over my lap and adjusting my mini skirt. The tights I’m wearing cling to my legs, and honestly, I’m feeling good. New hair—beached blonde and way shorter than I’ve ever dared—and a new start. I mean, if I’m gonna go down in flames, I might as well look hot doing it, right?

I’m watching a mukbang on my iPad, half zoning out as this girl shovels noodles into her mouth, when I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. Holy shit .

He sits down next to me, and I swear I lose the ability to blink for a second. This guy—tall, fit, with sharp cheekbones that could cut glass—sits there like he owns the world. His hair is cropped short and it’s jet black, and his eyes? They’re intense, like dark chocolate melting in the heat. He smells like cedarwood and leather, and fuck me , it’s like he stepped right out of a GQ magazine.

He glances at me for a second, just a flick of his gaze, and something in my chest twists. He doesn’t say anything at first, just pulls out a sleek black laptop and starts typing away like he’s saving the world.

Meanwhile, I’m sitting here watching someone eat noodles. Classy, Savannah. Real classy.

I shift in my seat, trying not to stare, but Jesus , this guy is ridiculously hot. I’m pretty sure I can see the outline of his muscles through his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Every few minutes, I catch him glancing at me, too. Like, not creepy staring, but just enough to make my stomach flip.

Suddenly, he looks over at me. “You like that stuff?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Shit. Caught.

I pull one earbud out, giving him a sheepish grin. “Yeah…I know it’s weird. I just like watching people eat. It’s oddly satisfying.”

He chuckles, deep and rich, and something about that sound sends a thrill through me. “Hey, no judgment. Everyone’s got their thing.”

“What’s yours then? You don’t strike me as the mukbang type.”

He smiles, and holy hell, that smile could melt glaciers. “Vintage cars. And whiskey tasting. Something about working on old engines, the craftsmanship...it relaxes me.” He pauses, looking amused. “Plus, the whiskey helps.”

I can’t stop the laugh that escapes me. “Whiskey helps a lot of things.”

“That it does.” He turns toward me, eyes locking onto mine, and there’s this...electricity in the air. I’m not imagining it, right?

“You heading to Chicago?” His voice is deep. Smooth.

“Yeah,” I say, trying to sound casual like my pulse isn’t doing some kind of weird backflip. “Just...traveling for a bit.”

Lie . But what am I supposed to say?

“Oh yeah, I’m going to Chicago to beg my old friend to save my ruined career because I’m the chef everyone’s laughing at right now.”

Yeah, no .

He raises an eyebrow, just the tiniest bit. “Traveling, huh? You don’t look like the backpacking-through-Europe type.”

I snort. “What, do I look like a five-star resort girl?”

He grins, and I swear it’s the most devastating thing I’ve ever seen. “You look like trouble.”

I choke on a laugh. “Trouble? Wow, that’s a new one. I’ve been called a lot of things lately, but ‘trouble’ sounds almost...flattering.”

He leans back in his seat, eyes still on me, studying me like I’m some kind of puzzle he’s trying to figure out. “I call it like I see it. So, are you from Chicago?”

I shrug. “Used to be. Moved away a few years ago.”

His gaze lingers on my face for a moment before he says, “Name’s Jared. Jared Maddox.” He sticks out his hand, and his grip is firm, confident. Exactly how I expected it to be.

I hesitate for a split second before answering, “Savannah.”

No last name. The last thing I need is him Googling me mid-flight and finding out I’m a walking PR disaster.

He lets go of my hand but doesn’t drop the conversation. “So, what do you do when you’re not...traveling?”

Shit . Here we go. I could tell him the truth, but that would probably kill any chance I have of keeping this conversation flirty. “I, uh...cook.”

A half-truth, at least.

His eyes light up with interest. “Cook? Like professionally?”

“Something like that.” I shift in my seat, not wanting to get into the whole Lemons drama. “What about you?”

He gestures toward his laptop. “Corporate lawyer. But I dabble in other things.”

He says it so casually like he’s used to people being impressed.

“Lawyer, huh? That explains the suit.” I let my gaze travel over him—slowly, just enough to make sure he notices. “But the rolled-up sleeves? That’s throwing me off. You’re not one of those stiff, uptight lawyers, are you?”

Jared smirks, and I can feel the tension ratchet up another notch. “I’m a lot of things, Savannah. Uptight isn’t one of them.”

“Oh? Then what are you?”

He leans in, just enough that I catch another whiff of cedarwood and leather. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

Jesus. My skin tingles and I have to remind myself to breathe. It’s been way too long since I’ve flirted with someone like this, and I’ve never flirted with anyone this hot. My brain’s racing to keep up, but my mouth—well, my mouth is doing its thing.

“I think I might just take you up on that,” I say, giving him a playful smile. “But you haven’t told me why you’re going to Chicago.”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Business, mostly. Got a meeting with a new client. Shouldn’t take too long.”

“Must be nice,” I say, letting a bit of sarcasm slip in. “Jet-setting across the country for business. Fancy suits, first-class upgrades...”

His grin widens, and for a second, I swear his eyes darken. “What can I say? I’ve worked hard to get where I am.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And where is that, exactly?”

“Let’s just say...I’m comfortable.”

There’s a pause, and for a second, I think I’m going to drown in the tension between us. It’s thick, and I can tell by the way his eyes keep flicking to my lips that he’s thinking the same thing I am.

I wonder what it would be like to kiss him, to feel that stubble against my skin, to taste him. God, it’s been too long.

I lean back in my seat, feeling a little bold. “So, Jared, tell me something interesting about yourself.”

He closes his laptop, turning his full attention to me now. “Something interesting? Hmm...”

He pretends to think for a second before giving me that devilish grin again.

“I once convinced a judge to dismiss a case because the opposing counsel showed up in the wrong courtroom. Claimed it was negligence.”

I laugh, a real laugh this time. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Case dismissed. Guy was pissed, but hey, rules are rules.”

I shake my head. “Wow, remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“Oh, trust me,” he says, his voice dropping a little, “you’d know if you were on my bad side.”

My stomach flips again, and this time it’s not just from the flirting. There’s something about the way he says it, like he’s teasing but...not really. I don’t know what the hell I’m getting into here, but damn, do I want to find out.

“Well, I’m glad I’m not,” I say, trying to keep things light. “I prefer to be on the good side of tall, dark, and handsome.”

His eyes lock on mine, and for a second, it feels like the rest of the plane just disappears. “Trust me, Savannah, you’re right where you need to be.”

Holy hell. My body’s practically buzzing with the tension between us, and I don’t know if it’s the altitude or the fact that it’s been way too long since I’ve felt like this, but I’m tempted to make a move.

Right here. On this plane. With this stranger who smells like heaven and looks like every fantasy I’ve ever had rolled into one.

But instead, I give him a coy smile and say, “I’ll keep that in mind.”