Page 17 of One Winter Knight
I checked my phone. “Almost here.”
“Did you get the goods?” he whispered to me. “I did.”
“Yep. I did.” I got out of the golf cart.
While Fiona had booked some fancy-ass Christmas dinner for us at one of the ski lodges, we also planned to have our own. What we didn’t bring, Dusty would have delivered to our villa.
“How fast does this go?” Hale eyed the cart.
“Wanna see?” Dusty asked.
I took the box of pan dulces while they raced the cart around the plane. Would anyone notice if I ate one now?
“Carlos!” Fiona’s arms wrapped around my waist. I got a hit of candy canes and brandy.
“Sorry we’re late. Someone took a while to get ready.” Saoirse joined us, looking fresh and perfect–hair done, lips red, a trench coat over a smart black suit. One hand pulled a suitcase.
“Meanie,” Fiona grumbled. “My hair took forever to dry.” Her hair was in a messy bun, and she wore pastel green sweats with a matching hoodie and furry boots. A hat threatened to fall out of her pocket.
“You’re here, that’s all that matters.” I gave her a kiss.
“You can board the plane now,” Kace told us, taking Saoirse’s suitcase from her.
Dusty and Hale were still racing around in the golf cart, but now Hale was driving, while Dusty filmed it with his phone.
“Thanks.” I took Fiona’s gloved hand. “Let’s get some coffee and have these pastries.”
Fiona’s green eyes lit up. “I’d love that. And a nap.”
We boarded the plane. His road crew were already there in seats at the front.
“You are Mr. Woodrow’s guests? Yes? This way.” A flight attendant led us past the couple of rows of overstuffed reclining seats, and past a beautiful wooden partition.
This area had six chairs facing each other–four on one side, two on the other, with tables in the middle. Behind it was a couch, chairs, and TV, and beyond that stood another partition.
“The lounge and bathroom are behind the partition. The chairs in the lounge recline fully,” she told us.
“Could we have some coffee, please?” I set the box on one of the tables.
“Of course.” She also took our breakfast orders, then left.
“Are any of them jelly filled?” Fiona opened the box and blinked at the brightly colored pastries.
“One of Dusty’s moms made them.” I handed her a bright pink concha. It was round and looked a little like a seashell.
“Is this gingerbread?” Saoirse picked up a pig-shaped maranito.
“Not quite. It’s not gingery, but they’re really good. They’re Dusty’s favorite,” I replied.
The flight attendant brought us coffee.
“Thank you. Just what I need.” Fiona put a lot of cream and sugar in hers. Saoirse added nothing.
I grabbed a crescent-shaped cuernito and took a bite, letting the sweetness explode over my tongue. “So good.”
“I like this.” Saoirse nodded as we sat around the table.
Fiona, who was still standing, took a bite of Saoirse’s. “Oooh. I like it.” She leaned over and took a bite of mine. “Also like.” She ate more of hers. “So good. You and Dusty have been friends for a long time, right? You met on a telenovela?”
