Chapter 2

Just as Edward's note promised, the car arrives at three-thirty sharp. Alice puts the finishing touches on my makeup and shoos me out the door, promising to clean up the mess she made of my vanity. The driver smiles and opens the door of the limo, taking my overnight bag and placing it in the trunk.

A long, white box sits on the leather seat, accompanied by another envelope. I'm about to pick it up when the window separating me from the driver slides down. "Help yourself to the champagne, Ms. Swan. There are snacks and sweets at your disposal in the mini fridge. We'll be driving for some time, so if you need me to make any stops, just hit the button above your door to notify me."

I smile at the driver. "How long is 'some time' exactly?"

"Mr. Cullen asked me to keep any information about where we're headed a secret—drive time included."

"I see. Perhaps I can coax it out of him somewhere along the way." The driver winks and rolls the window up. I grab the bottle of bubbly, which has already been uncorked, and pour some into one of the champagne flutes in front of me. I take a sip and close my eyes, loving the taste of the spumante and the tickle of the bubbles as the liquid travels over my tongue and down my throat. I crack open the mini fridge, laughing when I see what's inside.

When people think about relationships, there's always stereotypes that stand out. One of those is that men always important dates and details, while women remember everything that's happened. This is not the case when it comes to our relationship. Not only does Edward remember things, but he takes the tiny, seemingly insignificant details and puts them to use when he's trying to woo me … which is just about every day. Sometimes he's creative, other times he's clever, and he's always sweet in his romantic dealings. I can already tell that this anniversary surprise will go down as one of his more impressive feats.

Sour cherry balls, pink and red Starburst, and Reese's Pieces line the shelves of the mini fridge, tempting me like there's no tomorrow. There's enough here to last me until our next anniversary.

I grab the Reese's Pieces and pop the bag open. The minute the peanut butter taste hits my tongue, I'm transported back to the day we met, three years earlier…

"Excuse me. Pardon me. Oh, I'm so sorry. If I could just put my carry on up there." I peeled my eyes away from my magazine and looked up at the man causing all the commotion in the aisle. His back was to me, giving me a nice view of his shoulder muscles flexing beneath his t-shirt as he heaved the roller bag up and into the overhead compartment. I expected him to slip into the row across the aisle, but instead he turned.

In my college years, I'd read plenty of romance novels. I knew all about the heroines who took one look at a man and turned into a pile of mush. Lust at first sight, or whatever you wanted to call it. I'd never experienced it myself, and wasn't sure I believed in it … until this man looked at me. His auburn hair was wild, sticking out in about four different directions. He had an angular jaw, which was covered in thick stubble, but his eyes were what did me in. They were clear and bright, the color of a forest canopy on a sunny summer day and framed with thick lashes. My stomach twisted, turned, and did a backflip, while my heart picked up speed.

"I believe you're in my seat." His voice was liquid velvet, music to my celibate-for-way-too-long ears. Dumbstruck, I did nothing but stare back at him. The corners of his mouth twitched and his eyes twinkled with amusement. "I'm 17A. Which is the window."

I looked up at the numbers that indicated which seat was which. Sure enough, I'd gotten everything backwards and was supposed to be sitting in the aisle seat. "I'm so sorry." I fumbled with my seatbelt, struggling to unfasten it. "I'm a nervous wreck when it comes to flying. And I just spent a week in Punta Cana, so I'm running on tanning oil and rum. Wait, that makes no sense. My brain is filled with tanning oil and rum. Or— "

He laughed, loudly enough that they could probably hear him back in the terminal. Several of the passengers toward the front of the plane turned to look at us, and I cringed.

"You stay there," he said, sliding effortlessly into the aisle seat. He leaned over and lowered his voice. "It's probably best we keep the other passengers out of the blast zone. You know, in case any of that rum decides it should reappear during takeoff."

Heat rose to the surface of my cheeks and I bit down on my lower lip. "Thanks," I mumbled.

"For real, are you going to be okay?" He leaned forward until his eyes caught mine again.

I nodded. "I took a Xanax. And I've got my stash with me."

"Your stash?" he asked, eyebrows raised and head cocked to the side.

"Yep. I don't leave home without it." I nudged my purse with my toe.

"Intriguing." The man held his hand out and smirked. "I'm Edward Cullen."

"Bella Swan," I replied, grabbing his hand and giving it a quick shake. As soon as he let go, I felt a loss. Cut it out, Bella, I chastised myself. You are not one of those women who goes gaga over a man simply because you find him attractive.

Edward's phone began to ring before he could say anything else. I took advantage of the moment and threw myself back into my trashy tabloid, hoping that he would keep to himself so I didn't have any more chances to unleash word vomit in his presence.

We were an hour and a half into our flight before he spoke again. "Do you think Kim Kardashian has butt implants?"

I scrunched my nose up and turned to face him. "What?"

"Kim Kardashian." He pointed to the cover of the magazine, which was plastered with photos and headlines about Kim K, Kris Humphries, and their divorce. "I mean really, that's a perfect apple bottom there. Women aren't just born with that."

"Squats." He craned his neck, trying to get a look at my ass even though I was sitting. "Not that I would know or anything," I continued. "I don't think I've exercised since the late nineties. And that was just because it was required for gym class."

This caused him to laugh. "So you hate exercise and have an aversion to flying? Name one thing you love."

I tapped my chin, pretending to be lost in thought. "My stash." I pulled my purse out from beneath the seat in front of me and dropped it on the chair between us.

"Are you sure that's something you should be showing off in the middle of a flight?"

"Why not?" I opened the bag and tugged out the gallon-sized Ziploc that I kept filled with my favorite candies.

"Candy? Your stash is candy?"

"What did you think it was? Contraband?" When he said nothing to refute me, I barked out a laugh. "You do realize this is the post-9/11 USA you're living in, right? I can't even get a nail file on the airplane, let alone a bag of drugs."

"Honestly, I never stopped to consider that." He poked his finger on the candy bag. "So candy is the answer to your in-flight woes?"

"Sugar is the answer to all of my woes," I clarify. "This just happens to be a bag of my favorites."

"You should show me what's in there. You know, so I can help out with quality control." I laughed and opened the baggie, dumping the contents out next to my purse.

"Reese's Pieces, Starburst—my favorites being the pink and red ones—and these amazing sour cherry balls that you can only get at the Candyland store in St. Paul." I paused, realizing I never asked Edward where he was from. "Are you from the Twin Cities? Or just flying there?"

He grabbed an orange Starburst and unwrapped it, then popped it between his teeth and bit down. I watched the muscles in his neck and jaw contract and expand as he chewed. "I live in Minneapolis now. I'm originally from Arizona."

"Arizona to Minneapolis? Are you insane, or do you like feeling like an ice cube six months out of the year?"

"I went where the architecture firm with the best offer was when I graduated." He snatched another Starburst, yellow this time. "The winters aren't that bad. I'd much rather be somewhere frigid than somewhere stifling."

We spent the remainder of the flight in conversation, talking about every topic we could think of. I told Edward about going to college in New York and how I'd fallen in love with the city, but couldn't bring myself to stay there because it was much too chaotic for me. He told me about growing up in Phoenix and how disappointed his parents were when he deviated from the family tradition of enlisting in the Navy after graduation. I told him about the trials and tribulations of the advertising industry, and how I'd decided to branch off and start the bakery instead. He told me about how his dream in life was to someday build a house that was like the style you'd expect from Michael Graves.

By the time we landed in Minneapolis, I felt like Edward and I were childhood friends, not virtual strangers.

"Would it be weird if I referred to you as the Bakery Babe?" Edward moved around a woman and her disgruntled toddler, then resumed walking next to me.

I nodded and gave him a side eye. "Just a tad, yes."

"I guess I'll have to think of something a little more creative then." Edward stuffed his free hand in his pocket and looked down at the floor. We made our way to the baggage claim and gathered our things, and then headed out to the pick-up area.

"So …" Edward's voice trailed off as his eyes met mine. He took in my face and then I watched as his gaze traveled down the length of my body and back up. I was simultaneously embarrassed and turned on, and I knew my face probably resembled a Bushel Boy.

"So, it was nice meeting you, Edward Cullen." I shuffled from my left foot to the right and glanced up at the night sky. "Thank you for making my flight bearable."

"It was my pleasure." I started to turn, but he grabbed the sleeve of my hoodie. "Hold up, Bella."

I watched as Edward slid his phone out of his pocket and punched a few things in on the screen. Seconds later he handed it to me. "Can I have your number? You know, in case I find myself in need of emergency baked goods. Or help finding a stash of my own."

I pretended to contemplate his request, though I already knew I would give him my digits. When he started looking worried, I grabbed the phone from him and keyed in my number.

"I trust you'll use that and not let it go to waste," I teased.

"Absolutely." A silver Escalade pulled up to the curb and Edward gave the driver a half wave. "That's my cue to go. I'll talk to you soon, Bella the Bakery Babe."

I rolled my eyes and swatted at his arm, but couldn't stop a smile from spreading across my face. "Bye, Edward."

Later that day, when I was home and unpacked and enjoying a pint of Ben & Jerry's and a marathon of my favorite TV show, my phone pinged.

See – I didn't let it go to waste now, did I? ;-) – E

An unfamiliar electric current hummed beneath my skin and my stomach started doing somersaults once more.

I was in trouble.

With a capital "T."

A/N:

What's in your candy stash?

Those sour cherry balls from Candyland, they're a real thing. And they're ridiculously delicious. If you're ever in the Mini-apple, you must give them a try. :)