Catching Preeya (Paradise South Book 3)

by Rissa Brahm

  And it had been, thankfully.

  So she got on board early, before the entire crew. A good start to her anti-procrastination and pro self-focus campaign.

  She and Jess handled last-minute coach-class items in the back—Preeya taking an extra second to check the medi kit—while Kelly finalized her first-class preparations up front.

  Dr. Ben Trainer would be in first class to Houston—if he didn’t pull another Mr. Nice Guy seat swap—and so as long as Preeya kept to her section, she’d never have to see him again. Yeah, she’d be in coach while the selfless doctor, selfless lover—selfless, her ass—would live it up or sleep in cozy comfort after an exhilarating and exhausting night of heart-pounding, mind-blowing sex.

  Chills sprinted through her, shivers exponential in degree to those from her disastrous night with Josh. She tried to shake it off, but the vibrations ran too deep. So much for Gigi’s theory of the “dynamism and charisma of Preeya Patel.” And so much for the existence of instinct and intuition. She really should have fucking known.

  She sat in her jump seat out of view from the aisle, texted Prana, Boring Boise, Idaho, to Houston, Texas, Love Pree, and then hunted for her book to hide behind again.

  Pulling the novel from her purse, she smiled at the bookmark, slid it to the back page, then found her spot—Chapter 6, Her Name Matters. Hilarious and perfect. Because no, in fact, her name didn’t. Her name hadn’t mattered worth a damn. Jamie’s did.

  *

  “Is there a Preeya Patel on this flight? A flight attendant? Near-violet eyes?”

  A few people behind him cleared their throats to move him along.

  But screw them.

  The tall blond attendant smiled then glanced at his boarding pass. “Yes, in fact, she is on duty in coach class. But if you could kindly take your seat now, right there in 3A, I can bring you a refreshment?”

  “Um, sure, but I—”

  “Please, Dr. Trainer,” she whispered, her hot breath tickling his ear, “there are several guests waiting behind you.”

  He sighed and moved to his seat, clearing the aisle for the backup he’d created.

  But how did that woman know he was Dr. Trainer? No title was noted on his boarding pass. Had Preeya told the flight attendant about him? And what about him?

  Who cared? More irritating to him was that if she was on this flight, then why the early departure from the hotel? Giving her the benefit of the doubt just expired.

  And denying his anger had only made it escalate in absolute value. They’d undoubtedly connected last night. Deeply. For hours. And he knew she’d stayed in his arms until at least 6:00 a.m., when he drifted awake and watched her sleep for a while before falling away again into a dream—with her in it.

  The cluster of first-class folks had cleared and the flight attendant, Kelly—so read her tag—approached him. “What can I offer you to drink, Doctor?”

  He smiled. “May I ask, how do you know I’m a doctor?”

  “The entire Jetta Air crew knows what happened yesterday. You saved that boy’s life. So amazing. Hopefully this flight will be much less dramatic.” She winked and patted his hand. “So what can I get you to start this flight off right?” Wink.

  Well, actually, if you can switch my seat with anyone in the back row of coach so I can talk to Preeya and find out what the fuck? “A large bottle of water will be fine,” he said, needing further remedy for his underlying hangover. “And I know Preeya must be very busy, but if there is downtime for her, would you mind asking her to…well, just please ask her if…that I need to speak with her about…the medical forms we had completed yesterday.”

  “Sure, Doctor. I will pass along the message. But if she can’t catch you on board, after we land in Houston you can grab her…if your connection isn’t too tight,” she said. Then she glanced at his itinerary on his tray table. “But you should be fine, as it seems you have a hefty three-hour layover there. And Preeya is part of the Puerto Vallarta crew as well. You’ll have ample time to connect. If not in Vallarta, at the latest.”

  “Thanks very much.” She’d be going to Vallarta, too? His pulse spiked in the center of his chest. Yes, he’d catch her. He had to. He’d find out what the deal was, without a doubt.

  Kelly came back, placed a napkin down, then the perspiring bottle of water. But he slipped the napkin out first. “Thank you, Kelly, and…” He quickly pulled the pen from his shirt pocket, jotted his cell number down, and handed the wispy textured square to the woman, “would you please give this to Preeya just in case we somehow miss each other? It’s really very important.”

  “Of course I will.” Her lip curled at one corner while looking him up and down, then she winked again. He cringed, the front desk clerk at the Boise Inn coming to mind. He wondered if the woman would give the napkin to Preeya like he’d asked, or keep his number for herself? “Right away, Doctor.”

  CHAPTER 13

  In three more hours, she’d be safe on a flight to Vallarta. Until then, Houston had a lounge. Crappy food, but a lounge to hide in nonetheless.

  She offered to finish Jessica and Kelly’s breakdown so Ben would be long gone from the D concourse. But she’d still have to lie low. Doctors Without Borders…that meant he might be heading to the international gates, too. But at least she could be certain he wasn’t heading to Puerto Vallarta, one of the richest hubs for international expats and vacationers in Mexico. No, he’d probably be heading on to somewhere decrepit and needy—whatever made him feel important and righteous. Then he’d play that righteous role to get some other pathetic soul into bed.

  Whatever. Hey, maybe she had nothing to worry about; maybe he was at baggage claim already. His girlfriend or wife Jamie texting that she had the minivan parked outside baggage claim with their two and a half kids. And the dog.

  And his wedding ring was probably in that super-organized man-purse of his. Yeah, that black leather murse she’d forgotten to make fun of last night at the bar. A fucking murse. Jesus.

  But why would he be gone out of country for a year if he had kids? Even to “do good”?

  Hello, Preeya. Her own mother had left her and her sister “to do good”—permanently.

  What did it matter, anyway? She was just lucky that the asshole clued her in before she got taken. Oh God, like Hannah, who she’d met in FA school then flew with her for a year before Hannah quit altogether. That girl was so sweet, fell for this guy she’d met on a red-eye to Philly. A year of pretend later, she found her doting dream man at the baggage claim. Greeted by a wife and in-laws.

  Yeah, Preeya was super lucky Ben hadn’t made it twelve hours before his truth leaked out.

  Because the way he’d been with her at the bar, in the hotel room—all night long—she could have been deeply taken. Easily. Maybe worse than Hannah. And worse than Preeya’d ever been taken before, by Josh all those years ago, or by any other person, place, or thing, for that matter.

  Her phone buzzed her back to the present. Gigi.

  Her heart warmed. “Hey, Geej.”

  “You made it, then. To Houston?”

  “Yeah, finally in Houston.”

  “Weird vibes last night…like superhuman good ones…”

  “Yes, well, I did have an amazing night,” Preeya said, completely unsurprised that Gigi felt it—it was that damn powerful. “But it was shattered with unkind reality by morning.” Preeya adjusted the earbud in her left ear, then grabbed her roller bag’s handle and began walking toward the Jetta Air lounge.

  “Again?” Gigi asked. “You’re having a good few days, Pree.”

  “Yes, again, and yes, a really good string of days and bad clichés. This morning’s beat all, though. He called me by another woman’s name, Geej.”

  “Ouch, sweetie…I’m sorry. But hey, did you at least get your kicks?” That’s Gigi, silver-lining sleuth to the core.

  And yes, she had—she had gotten her night kicks—incredible waves of kicks…followed by a huge kick to the ego in the morning. “Yeah,
Geej, but that’s so far from enough anymore. So not enough, by light-years.”

  “I know, Pree, I know. And you deserve more,” she said, then giggled, not matching the context of their conversation at all.

  “What are you laughing about?”

  “Sorry, it’s just…stop! Rod is tickling my feet. Stop it!”

  Preeya closed her eyes. She pictured her best friend on a couch in front of a TV, having her doting, attentive boyfriend rubbing and tickling her toes. Like Evan used to do, which at the time she’d hated. Then. God, she was an idiot, wasn’t she?

  But she loved hearing Gigi happy. “Tell him hey for me, Geej.”

  “Preeya says hi. He’s waving back.” Gigi giggled again then sighed. “So, Pree, what next? On to Vallarta?”

  “Yeah, but since I’m missing the wedding”—she looked at her phone for the time—“as we speak, and the airline already gave me the vacation days, I’ll have a few forced days of alone time.”

  “I know you hate that, sweetie.”

  “I do, but it’ll be…good…for me. Right? Won’t it be good for me?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course. And when you get sick of yourself, I’m here. As usual. Call anytime, always…oh shut up, Rod…yes, anytime.” Preeya heard Rod’s muffled exclamation of pain—Gigi probably hit him hard in the arm.

  Preeya smiled. Gigi was her rock, always and forever. “I will probably cave and call you at hour two of my solo-cation,” she said, pausing to read the overhead signs to get her bearings—destination Jetta Air lounge—because more recently, all of the larger international hub layouts merged together in her brain. She squinted at the large sign’s possibilities, then, finding her target and following the arrow, the Jetta Air crew lounge was only some fifty feet away.

  “Pree, you there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here, Geej, sorry.” She veered right and weaved her way toward her next safe haven. “I’m just—”

  A hand took her wrist.

  She spun around, half ready to knock someone in the shins with a big swing of her carry-on, and half ready to greet some pilot or FA she’d worked with. Either way, any and all words escaped her, so she looked at the large hand clutching her wrist and then up at the owner’s face. In awe.

  Why was she so shocked? The largest airport hub in the world can’t circumvent fate, Preeya.

  “What the hell happened to you, Preeya?”

  She narrowed her eyes at Dr. Ben Trainer, then glared at his hand. Still on her goddamn wrist. Yanking her arm from his clutches, she knocked her roller back over, the hard casing made a loud thud against the tile floor.

  They both bent down to grab the bag and its extended handle until she growled low and deep. “I got it.” Because first off, fuck karma, fate, Mom—all of it.

  Second, did he think she was a total fucking idiot? What happened?

  Through her phone at her ear, a muffled but escalating voice. “Preeya? What have you got, Pree?”

  “Geej, gotta go.” She ended the call and stared at her phone screen. Thinking. Damn it. Just a matter of feet before the lounge entrance, too. She stole a deep breath. He’s not even worth getting heated up over. Just keep cool.

  Composed and calm, she peered at him, focusing on his nose—not his eyes, not his lips—just the very tip of his nose. She cleared her throat and hunted for a mellow-sounding intonation. “What do you mean?” Too shaky, Pree. And lower. She let her primo FA smile surface. “I’m taking my break before my next leg.” Because, asshole, the flight is work for me, not a leisurely stroll through the clouds, you know? “Did you have a nice flight?” Sweet as saccharine.

  “Preeya, come on…what’s the damn deal?” Then he moved a step closer. “Why’d you sneak out? No word…nothing. We had such an amazing time last night. Really…something…”

  God, she was not going there. Before opening her mouth in reply, Jessica and Kelly strolled past, tilted their heads, then whispered among themselves all the way into the lounge. “I had thought so.” Don’t, Preeya. She just needed to end it there. “But you gotta know, it was the alcohol talking…working. It was just the drinks, nothing more.”

  “The hell it was!” he yelled.

  Whoa. “Shhh. Jesus, Ben. Yes. It was. You don’t get out a lot, I understand. But it was just a one-nighter, a fling. We socialized folks sometimes have them…” Even though, again, she rarely did. Well, again, except for the prior two-night string. Ugh. Cue hot acid reflux.

  He glowered at her, his right eye a tad smaller than his left, while he began rubbing the top of his head. His expression, confused—a desperate question hovering in those golden spheres of his. “That is not what it was.”

  She turned, realizing this would be an endless circle to nowhere. And her feet really did hurt. She needed to sit, eat, and relax for the half hour before checking in again.

  But he took her hand gently and urged her around to face him.

  Damn it. More than hating that he was still in her face, she despised her body’s reaction to his touch. The hot spark in her core he’d ignited last night had simmered, but since he’d grabbed her wrist, it had spread like wildfire. Hell, his general fucking presence killed her slowly, forcing up those warm, rolling memories of them from only hours earlier—in heaven, before “Jamie.”

  “If you didn’t feel the energy between us, then I need to see a psychiatrist—I must have been hallucinating. Clinically insane.”

  She had felt the electricity. And was driven crazy-insane by it. But the bucket of ice-cold wake-up had already been dumped over her head. Yeah, that fine-burning fire was out.

  Put out cold!

  “No. It’s just relativity, Ben. You’re a dime a dozen and I guess I am, too…”

  “How dare you take this so lightly!”

  “Please lower…your voice.”

  Back to a whisper. “I put everything out there last night, and you…you blow it off like it’s nothing?”

  “It wasn’t me who blew it off.”

  “I don’t know what the hell that means, but maybe it’s true what they say: flight attendants really do fuck-flee-repeat! Off to screw the next fool, right? Another brooding rock star? I’ll leave you to it.”

  *

  He couldn’t believe his words after they’d left his mouth.

  Maybe they were from the years of pent-up…everything, but it shocked him, and from her facial expression, it shocked her far worse.

  It took her several seconds to get her bearings. And then to speak. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

  “I—”

  “You…you can go fuck yourself!” she yelled, apparently uncaring anymore about decibel levels. Then she stormed off.

  And he couldn’t utter a sound, a syllable to try to stop her. He knew better than to follow her—nothing would come of it. He screwed up royally, and damn it, had he even deserved a night or more with someone like her in the first place?

  No was the answer. Definitely not.

  He walked toward his connection, head down, hangover headache ramped up to full force, and another rush of guilt flooding his veins. God, that guilt—it might just drown him from the inside out.

  CHAPTER 14

  She’d find solace in the airline lounge, a place to decompress. Her blinding rage already forced to a simmer, if only to keep up appearances around her coworkers.

  Like Kelly and Jessica.

  They were at the bar flirting with a pair of pilots. Before they caught sight of her, she ducked into a corner chair facing the window. She sighed then shook her head. At least hiding spots were coming her way.

  She situated her bag, sunk into the plush red armchair, and then stared at the floor. Empty time went by while all-encompassing whooshes and zooms of arrivals and departures rattled her bones. And during that stretch of time, her fury at Ben, and at herself for letting it all happen, morphed into sheer apathy, a detachment she’d never known before.

  And it felt good. Nice. Empty peace and ease.

  But on
the other hand, though she loathed admitting it, what she’d experienced last night, that level of liberation, that degree of true joy, couldn’t be had if she chose apathy.

  But even that “true joy” wasn’t real, Preeya.

  A reminder that ran rampant through her boiling veins. She squeezed her fists tight. Ben was just a romp, a fucking roll in a bed in a hotel in east bumble.

  Low expectations, an objective outlook. That had to be the way now. The status quo. Hey, after taking a bit of time to self-focus—learn to be alone for five minutes without having a panic attack—maybe Evan was the way of her future? Maybe that was the best it could get?

  “Preeya…hey, Preeya?” Kelly stood in front of her for who knew how long, wearing an expression of concern mixed with confusion. “You okay? Did you drop something on the floor?”

  Preeya blinked out of her zone. “Hey. Oh, no. Just thinking…and tired. I guess the whole thing with the boy on yesterday’s flight…it was a lot. And I didn’t sleep well.”

  “Right, that’s what kept you up…that whole episode with the boy…and the doctor and all.” She winked, holding out a beverage napkin for her to take. “He wanted me to give this to you. I’d almost forgotten…but then I saw you both together outside the lounge, and then you in here…”

  Preeya took the napkin, glanced at it long enough to see ten digits, and decided not to rip it to shreds like she wanted to. She wouldn’t be gossip fuel for the Jetta Air girls. It was enough that she knew they’d caught Ben’s hand on her wrist, but hopefully none of the yelling. “Thanks. Probably more questions on the paperwork. It was a pile a mile high.”

  “Sure, yeah, a mile high. Well, we’re off to Tampa in a while. Have a safe one to PV, and I guess, see ya when we see ya?”

  “Thanks, Kelly. Yeah, safe flight.”