Lady In Waiting (Infinite Time Trilogy Book 1)

by Shandi Boyes

  After snagging my jacket from the back of my chair, I spin on my heels then leave. I make it two steps down the cracked sidewalk of the cafe before I remember I have no transportation. The blisters on my feet are the size of Mount Everest, and I am without my cellphone and purse. Fortunately, my firepit stubbornness forces me to continue my expedition—one slow step at a time.

  Ignoring Alex’s repeated offer to give me a piggyback ride as he had earlier this morning, I gingerly take a step forward, closely followed by another and then another.

  After ten dozen painstakingly slow strides, Alex says, “You do realize you’re walking in the wrong direction, right? My apartment is that way.” I can’t see him, but I can imagine him hooking his thumb behind his shoulder.

  Incapable of backing down without a fight, I respond, “Who said I was going to your apartment?”

  “The closest pay phone is over a mile away. My apartment is half a mile, maybe a little less. Figured you’d prefer the latter.”

  I growl at the humor in his tone. It isn’t a husky little pussy cat roar. It’s a tigress about to maim the carcass it slayed.

  “Who said I’m seeking a pay phone? Perhaps I am on the hunt for a gullible idiot with more than a few pennies to his name,” I seethe through clenched teeth. “I’m sure he’ll drive me home without a single dime being mentioned. There are plenty of ways for a girl to make payment without handing over her hard-earned money.”

  The last half of my childish remark comes out with a squeal from Alex curling his arm around my waist and hoisting me off the ground. He tosses me over his shoulder without breaking a sweat before stomping in the direction of his apartment.

  While pounding his back with my fists, I scream blue murder, begging for a random passerby to save me from the madman holding me captive.

  I’m sickened to admit, no one comes to my rescue.

  “I’m going to have you arrested for kidnapping!”

  “Oh goodie,” Alex replies, his tone more snarky than happy. “While you’re at it, make sure they draw up the charges as a federal offense, as this crime is about to cross state borders.”

  “We are not going to Texas!”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “We’re going to Texas.”

  How in the world Alex got me to agree to this, I truly don't know. It was somewhere between him pinning me to his bed and throwing me in a cold shower. Or perhaps it was a combination of them both? He only stopped me clawing at him by holding me hostage on his bed with his body, and he couldn't calm me down with a cold shower without entering the stall with me, minus his shirt, of course.

  That must be the issue? My stupid ass libido found her voice again, but instead of focusing on a man deserving of her time, she wants the dumb ass standing in front of her.

  Apparently, Alex's chivalrous remark on me being free to leave when I wish only counts when jealousy isn't at play. I shouldn't goad him like I do, but what can I say, it's fun. Alex is a handsome man, but when he's angry—walking on the blistering sun! That's the only way I can describe it. He is THAT hot.

  Although I wish he weren't right now. He has two first-class flight attendants’ panties in a twist as easily as he did when he had his ticket upgraded from economy to first class. I booked our flights in different sections for a bit of breathing space, but all it took was a couple of words and a smile, and Alex's hundred dollar ticket was exchanged for one that costs nearly a thousand dollars.

  When I demanded the check-in clerk amend my ticket price to match Alex's, she glared at my fancy platinum credit card before her eyes drifted to the address on my license. I argued that the credit card and penthouse apartment on the wealthiest street in Ravenshoe are perks of my job, but she wasn't having any of it. If I wanted to travel first class, I had to pay for the privilege.

  I should have switched Alex’s ticket with mine. There are plenty of men in first-class with us, but there’s no way I could match the attention he is receiving. First the waitress, then the check-in clerk, now two pretty bimbos whose legs stretch for miles and smiles just as big.

  James, the head attendant for our section, is downright gorgeous, but even if my gaydar were utterly awry, I'd still know he has a fascination with handsome blond-haired, blue-eyed men. How? He's been fussing over Alex as much as the female attendants.

  The man gliding down the aisle, on the other hand, sign me up. I can understand the stewardess's offer for a free upgrade. He's so handsome, I'd let him ride me for free. A five o'clock shadow darkens his jaw, which makes his devastatingly handsome face even more dangerous. He has dark eyes, either green or brown, I can’t tell from this distance, and his body is lean yet appealing enough to set my pulse racing.

  When he takes the seat opposite me, his head casually slants my way. The friendly smile he offers me gains him the devotion of every female within a one-mile radius. Not because Alex has competition, but because they lose Alex’s attention.

  The instant Alex spotted the direction of the stranger's welcoming gaze, he left the first-class bar for the first time since the seatbelt sign was switched off nearly thirty minutes ago.

  The slight flutter in my pulse due to the handsome stranger’s face triples when Alex stops in front of me. Just the vast span of his sexy thighs wipes the stranger from my thoughts, but in case they didn't, he bobs down to align our eyes.

  Handsome stranger? What stranger? Is all my brain computes when I’m awarded the utter devotion of Alex’s oceanic eyes. A hint of familiarity clears some fog in my envy-laden brain when his squinted gaze burns into mine. I’ve often wondered if our friendliness was an effect of the crazy sexual current firing between us, but now I’m not so sure. There is more at stake here than just sexual hunger. It is something deeper and more compelling. I just can’t for the life of me work out what it is.

  “Scoot over,” Alex requests, nudging his head to the plush cubical that’s been vacant the past thirty minutes.

  Pheromones pump out of him when I shake my head, denying his request. “I’m fine here.”

  After his eyes drift to the suit-clad gentleman sitting across from us, watching our exchange with attentive eyes, Alex returns them to me. "You wanted the window seat; I'm giving you the window seat. Scoot over." His volume rises with each syllable he speaks. It is laced with jealousy and utterly delicious for my dented ego to devour.

  Thankful for the chance to even the playing field, I push Alex to the side as I did the waitress earlier today. “Shove off; I’ve got business to take care of,” I purr with my hankering eyes locked on the hottie across from me.

  I’m lying, but Alex doesn’t know that. If I wanted to play with the gentleman in seat 4C, we’d already be swapping spit in the sandpit, but he isn’t the man I want to share germs with. It is the man glaring at me, unappreciative of my quick return in the marathon tit-for-tat game we’ve been playing the past two months.

  Alex should be grateful a majority of my focus this weekend has centered around discovering the identity of the person invading my privacy, because if it didn't, I might have moved on from our game of cat and mouse by now. I don't play well with others. That's why I've gone it alone so long. People get burned when I let my emotions enter the mix. Some even die.

  Imprisoned by painful memories, I move to Alex’s seat like he requested. I need a breather before I say or do something I’ll regret. The adrenaline Alex’s attention comes with far exceeds the worry of being harmed by my stalker, but the other emotions it arrived with aren't as welcoming. I'm a confident, classy lady. . . who feels like she's on a Slip'n Slide with no end in sight. It's fun while you’re riding it, but no matter how enjoyable the ride is, you'll forever be on the bottom rung once it’s over.

  Since he was anticipating more of a challenge, Alex remains quiet as he fills the seat my ass has kept warm since we left the tarmac. When he places an untouched glass of gin on the side table between us, I seize it, swallow it, then signal for another.

  Spotting James’s agreeing n
od to my request, Alex shakes his head, retracting my order. I shoot him a vicious glare. “I need a drink—”

  “You need to talk. Vent. Scream. You do not need alcohol to do either of those things,” Alex interrupts, his voice a cross between stern and remorseful. He doesn’t like pushing me out of my comfort zone any less than he hates his inability to rein in his jealousy when it comes to me. Both are as frustrating as hell to him.

  “Bottling up your emotions never works, Rae. The longer you hold them in, the bigger the explosion will be once they come undone.”

  I let the gin speak on my behalf: “Maybe they’ll never grow big enough to explode?”

  Alex doesn’t say a word; he just stares straight at me, expressing a million thoughts without a single syllable escaping his lips.

  His understanding has me whispering words I swore I’d never utter, “I can’t tell anyone; I promised to keep his secret forever.”

  “There are no secrets that won’t be revealed with time.” When I stiffen, physically erecting my defense wall, Alex quickly adds on, “But that doesn’t mean you have to be the person responsible for revealing them. You can tell me as much or as little as you want. I’m not grading your honesty, Regan. I’m being your friend.”

  The first half of his statement makes my heart flutter. The second half causes my stomach to heave. He is the second man in my life to place me in the “friends zone.” I want to say it impacts me the second time as much as the first, but nothing will knock me as hard Luca rejecting me.

  “I loved Luca,” I whisper, staring at my fingers twisted in the hem of my shirt. “But he never loved me the same way.” My words choke a little when I confess, “Instead of accepting what he could give me, I wanted more.”

  I smile through the tears attempting to roll down my face. "For years, we appeared to have the perfect relationship. He was the beloved sports star and all-around mentor of our high school, and I was the wild child he wrangled into the wholesome country girl I was born to be. It truly seemed as if we were destined for greatness."

  “Until it came tumbling down?” Alex questions, reminding me I am not just reminiscing; I’m admitting to sins I should have confessed to years ago.

  I nod. "Things went downhill rather quickly when we left for college. Our relationship was easy in high school. There were only a handful of students in our class. Most were in long-term relationships, and those who weren't didn't have any interest in neither Luca or me. Excluding Danielle, we never had any issues."

  Alex sits on the very edge of his chair, bringing our knees within touching distance. “College doesn’t just bring temptation into play; it comes with an assortment of crazy shit. Some grow. Others wilt.”

  His comment makes me smile. “Luca prospered. He was the happiest I had ever seen him.” It is the fight of my life to express my next set of words without a cracking voice. “At the time, I thought I was the one responsible for the goofy grin on his face. It was only when I walked into his dorm room the night of his accident did I realize his happiness had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the person he was wrapped up in.”

  I swipe a stupid rogue tear slipping down my cheek before shifting my eyes to the window so Alex won’t see my tears. “If I had just accepted his decision, we wouldn’t have fought, and he wouldn’t have made the decision he made that night. I’m the reason he’s dead. I was so enraged with jealousy, I broke a promise I swore to keep for eternity. I revealed his secret to the world.”

  Alex’s warm breaths fan my nape when he assures, “What happened wasn’t your fault, Rae—”

  "Yes, it was. I am the reason he is dead. I made him choose. I told him he had to pick." My eyes glisten with tears as secrets I've kept for years involuntarily spill from my lips. "I wanted him to pick me, and to everyone around us, that was what he did. As far as anyone was concerned, he forever put me first. Only I know that wasn't true. He didn't pick either of us that night. He chose to perpetuate the lie he had been living for years." He continued pretending he was straight.

  I grow worried I said my last confession out loud when Alex’s interweaves our fingers. I’m not looking at him, but I can tell he wants to say more. He just can’t force his tongue to fire words out of his mouth. I have no doubt his mind is racing a million miles an hour as he struggles to click the pieces together. He’ll be working on the puzzle for years to come. I’m still struggling to understand all the jagged edges, and I’m a prime piece of the picture.

  I was in love with a man who could never love me back. If that didn’t already make me an idiot, I left Luca’s frat party thinking I had won. What can I say? I was naïve and stupid.

  The truth rained down on me not even ten minutes later.

  Within minutes of us leaving campus, Luca's cellphone blew up. Guests at the party had recorded our fight, spreading rumors of his sexual proclivities through our school like wildfire. Luca wasn't just fielding calls from his friends and teammates, though, he also had Coach Gulliver seeking confirmation on his "homosexual ways."

  It was in that instant it dawned on me why Luca asked me to pledge what I did on his sixteenth birthday. The college we both attended was small, but the mindset of the locals was even smaller than that. No matter how much he contributed to the community, it was all forgotten because of stupid words screamed in anger.

  I don't know the exact moment Luca made the decision he did the night of our accident, but I am reasonably sure it was somewhere between the numerous messages demanding he rat me out as the two-bit liar I supposedly was and his father's twentieth unanswered call.

  Our hometown has been stuck in a time warp since the seventies, but at the time, it appeared as if Luca’s secret had reached his parents’ ears.

  Luca was devastated—beyond my ability to comfort him.

  If he had just answered his father’s call, he would have realized they were none the wiser to his secret. His dad was merely calling him to update him on his grandma’s condition after her second hip replacement.

  To this day, his parents are still unaware of his sexual orientation.

  And if I have it my way, that’s how it will stay.

  Chapter Nineteen

  James loiters at the end of the aisle, unsure whether he should adhere to Regan's request for another gin and tonic or abide by my stern warning for him to keep away. Considering Regan's chest is currently open and exposed for the world to see, I signal for him to approach.

  He does, albeit hesitantly. After shoving a double shot of bitter liquor into my hands, he skedaddles away. His desire to flee isn't shocking. I hate the pained expression on Regan's face, and I'm the man responsible for it.

  When I urged her to open up to me, I never anticipated the confession I got. I’ve been on edge from the minute she announced the missing photo from her mantel was a man. I didn’t care who Luca was, or how influential he had been in her life; I hated him with every essence of my being.

  The way her eyes lit up when she talked about him filled me with an immense amount of jealousy. That’s why I’ve been such an asshat since we left the internet café. I was so focused on removing Luca from her memories, I didn’t register her grief when she spoke of him. I thought he was an old flame—a competitor. I’m a moron.

  Hoping to make matters right, I hand Regan the glass James gave me. She smiles in thanks before taking a delicate sip. I want to continue our conversation, but I don’t know if she’s truly up to it. I’ve pushed her so far out of her comfort zone the past twenty-four hours, she’s most likely having a hard time recognizing herself. I love Regan’s stubborn, beautiful, determined personality, so anything I can do to stop her from changing, I will.

  I’ll even talk with her about another man. “How did you and Luca meet?”

  Regan's lips arch against her glass as her glistening eyes stray to mine. They are nowhere near as troubled as they were minutes ago. "Did you know alpacas are flame-resistant?" She asks her question as a six-year-old would to her peers duri
ng show and tell.

  I’ve heard rumors that alpacas have fire-retardant coats, but that doesn’t stop me from faking ignorance.

  When I shake my head, Regan informs me, “Luca wanted to test the theory on my pet alpaca.”

  “You have a pet alpaca?” Now my interests are genuine. Regan exhibits glam to the nth degree. Imagining her with a farm animal as a pet is an entertaining thought.

  “Had. She went to alpaca heaven a few years ago,” Regan explains.

  When I give her a look, she slaps my arm. “She died of natural causes.”

  “Uh-huh, sure she did.”

  She slaps me again, her giggle attracting the attention of everyone surrounding us. James smiles with glee, happy Regan’s back to her usual self. The female flight attendants aren’t as overjoyed as him. They prefer us bickering over bantering.

  I like when we do both.

  "Did I tell you about my brother's cunning ability to lick his elbow. . .?"

  By the time we land at an airstrip just north of Texas, Regan and I have spilled a lifetime of secrets. I even shared with her the time I peed my pants in the first grade, and my brother covered it up by telling everyone I sat in a puddle. I don’t know how he got away with it. The wet patch was in the front of my shorts, not the back.

  Regan laughed hysterically when I told her the infamous nickname Dane made up for me, and her cheeks turned beet red when I revealed my mom forces me to FaceTime with my cat once a week. I have no idea why she got flustered over that. From her wide eyes and inflamed cheeks, you'd swear I was confessing to more risqué activities. . .

  My thoughts trail as reality dawns. Stopping halfway down the gangway, I lock my eyes with Regan. “I called Maxx a pretty pussy, didn’t I?”

  She doesn’t answer me. She doesn’t need to. The leering grin stretching across her face tells me everything I need to know.

  “How many times did I say it?”