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Cat sighed, then nodded. “Okay, Dad. Tell mom I love her.”

“As soon as she stops singing, I will, sweetheart. Fly safe. I love you.”

“I love you too, Dad. Bye.”

“Bye, honey.”

Folding the phone and slipping it into her carryall, Cat smiled at the warm hand on her wrist.

“Everything okay?” Dylan asked.

“Aside from my mother arranging an impromptu jam session in the middle of the ER, yeah, everything’s fine. She just got a little banged up.”

“That’s good to hear.”

A bit embarrassed, Cat rubbed at the back of her neck. “I…um…guess we missed the flight out, huh?”

Dylan grinned. “Never fear. I’ve made some alternate arrangements. Anytime you’re ready, we can head out.”

“I guess I’m ready now.”

Standing with a fluid grace so much a part of her, Dylan reached down and helped Cat up from the comfortable couch. She hugged the smaller woman

quickly, bending to whisper in her ear. “I’m glad your mom’s alright.”

“So am I,” Cat replied. “And thanks. For caring.”

Dylan gave her a rakish grin. “Not a problem at all.”

Dylan escorted Cat through the main terminal and into a smaller, less crowded part of the sprawling complex. After speaking quietly to a tall, uniformed

man standing beside a stout door, they were ushered outside and onto the tarmac where a small jet, painted a garish purple and black and sporting Horace

Johnson’s company name, waited, its engines growling softly.

Cat turned wide eyes to Dylan, who smirked down at her as she ascended the short flight of steps that led her up to the open hatchway. That smirk turned

into a carefully neutral mask as Dylan stepped into the dimly lighted plane, giving a short nod to Johnson and his “secretary”—she of the platinum blonde

hair and surgically enhanced assets. “Horace.”

“Took you long enough,” the team owner grumbled, only briefly tearing his rheumy eyes away from his assistant’s cleavage to shoot his head coach an

irritated scowl.

“It couldn’t be helped,” Dylan replied, stepping forward in order to give Cat enough room to enter behind her.

“Mr. Johnson,” Cat said, panting slightly as she entered the plane, “thank you. I appreciate you offering this. My mother—”

Johnson grunted dismissively, not even bothering to look at Cat as he turned his attention back to the woman at his side.

Dylan shot him a look that would have gotten her summarily fired had he seen it and, grasping Cat’s hand in hers, led the way down the narrow aisle until

they came to two empty seats across from the team physician who was sprawled out comfortably across her own row, grinning up at them. “Flying with the

big dogs, I see.”

“He’s too much of a pig to be a dog,” Dylan grumbled, stepping aside and gesturing for Cat to grab the window seat, then settling down beside her. “Who’s

the new trophy?”

“Eh,” Norton replied, shrugging, “somebody he met at some good ol’ boy beer swill somewhere, I’m sure.” The doctor laughed. “You sure can hear the wind

whistling between those ears.”

“Isn’t Mr. Johnson married?” Cat asked, adjusting herself in her seat and buckling the belt securely around her waist.

Dylan and Norton laughed.

“Horace wouldn’t know the word ‘fidelity’ if it came and bit him in the ass,” the doctor snorted, clasping her own belt. “I think he’s a majority stockholder in

the Bimbo-of-the-Month Club.”

“And he has a problem with me being gay?” Cat asked, offended.

Norton laughed again, but her chuckle was rueful. “Par for the course for idiots like him, Cat. Par for the course.”

Cat sighed, shaking her head. “That bites.”

“That it does, my friend.”

Plane seats were never intended for someone as tall as Dylan, and with her knees scrunched practically up to her chin and nowhere for her broad

shoulders to comfortably rest, she closed her seatbelt and willed the flight a quick one as possible.

Feeling Cat stiffen, Dylan turned her head to the side, smiling wryly. “Try not to let him get to you too much, Cat. He’s not worth it.”

Cat returned the smile. “It’s not that. Not really.”

Dylan frowned, noticing her companion’s sudden pallor. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Cat replied, shifting a little. “I’m fine. It’s just….”

“The flight?”

“I don’t mind flying. I kinda like it, actually. But this plane. It’s just so…so….”

“Cramped?”

Cat blushed as she turned her head fully to look at Dylan, noticing for the first time how her coach’s body was crammed into the tiny seat. “Um…yeah.”

The feel of Dylan’s hand, large enough to palm a basketball with ease, completely engulfing her own served to chase the fears and tumult of the day back

into the dark recesses of her mind. A wave of lethargy swept over her, and as the plane’s engines powered up for its taxi down the runway, she felt sleep

claim her, her lolling head resting against Dylan’s shoulder.

A soft chuckle brought Dylan’s sharp gaze over to the snickering Kelly Norton, who gave her a cheesy grin and a waggling eyebrow before she turned away,

blatantly ignoring the look of death shot her way.