Heavy Turbulence

by Kimberly Fox

  He rubs his forehead as he walks to the door. “Nine a.m. in the lobby,” he says as he opens it. He glances down at his Rolex and takes a deep breath. “You two have four hours. I suggest you get your story straight.”

  “Story straight?” Dex repeats.

  “You two are supposed to be married,” he says, looking as frustrated as a dateless virgin on prom night. “You should know information about each other.”

  “Will do, boss,” I say, nodding at him. “You can count on us.”

  Marv stares at me for a moment and then lets out another sigh. He steps out of the room and closes the door without saying another word.

  “We should know everything about each other,” Dex says, turning onto his back. It takes everything I have not to glance down at his chiseled abs.

  I hate to admit it but he’s right. One little slip up can cause all of this to come crashing down. If I don’t know how he takes his coffee or if we contradict each other about where we live, our last name, our jobs, anything, Prince Kalib will know there’s something up.

  He grins as he leans up on his elbow, watching me over the suitcases. “We should know what our spouse looks like naked,” he says. “You can go first.”

  If my eyes could shoot laser beams, his head would be in the shape of a canoe.

  “What’s to know?” I ask, glaring at him. “I’m hot as shit, and if anyone asks, you have a three-inch dick. There. Settled.”

  He chuckles as he drops his head back onto the pillow, smiling as he stares up at the ceiling. I finally get a chance to glance at his abs, and I can tell you that he sure as shit didn’t skip ab day.

  “I always thought my wife would be nice,” he says, rubbing his bearded chin.

  “Shitty husbands make shitty wives,” I say as I pick up his shirt and throw it at him.

  “So, everything is my fault?” he asks, looking at me in disbelief.

  I give him my fakest smile. “Sure is! Welcome to married life, hubby.”

  “You have the most beautiful smile,” Dex says, making me cringe.

  He’s not talking to me. He’s talking to the young blonde waitress at the restaurant where we’re eating breakfast.

  She glances at my left hand quickly and then smiles at him when she doesn’t see a ring on my finger. That reminds me…

  “Thank you,” she says, tilting her head as she leans on the table, staring at him like he’s a famous celebrity and she’s trying to get invited back to his trailer.

  “What’s your name?” he asks, leaning toward her. He’s trying to make me jealous. That’s all this is. But the jokes on him because it’s not working.

  She thrusts her chest out, sticking her perky breast absurdly close to his face. “Sofia,” she says, showing him more than just her name tag.

  Dex takes much longer than necessary to read one word. Or maybe he has the reading ability of a kindergartner. I wouldn’t be surprised.

  I grab my paper napkin and tear it into a million pieces under the table as I watch the two of them flirt. Definitely not jealous.

  “Such a pretty name,” he says, flashing his straight white teeth at her. She’s slutty putty in his hands. “Isn’t Sofia such a pretty name?” he asks, turning to me with a grin.

  “Mm-hm,” I mutter through my clenched jaw. “I like how it rhymes with gonorrhea.”

  Sofia shoots me a dirty look before turning back to Dex with a soft smile. “What’s your name?” she asks him.

  “It also rhymes with diarrhea,” I interrupt, “and North Korea.” Okay, that last one was a stretch.

  “My name is Dex,” he says, rubbing his arrogant chin as he ogles her. “And this is my assistant, Riley.”

  “Co-worker,” I correct.

  Sofia doesn’t seem to care. She’s not nearly as interested in me.

  Time to pour some ice on this fire before it gets out of control and I’m sleeping in the hallway.

  “Co-worker slash wife,” I say, trying to stifle my laugh at Gonorrhea’s shocked face. “Can we order now, please? My husband gets very cranky when he doesn’t eat.”

  Gonorrhea backs away from the table and pulls out her notepad, giving me a glassy stare as I open the menu. “You go ahead, honey.”

  Dex sighs in defeat, slumping down in the booth as Sofia stares down at the table. Is it bad that I’m loving the awkwardness?

  “I’ll just take the bacon and eggs,” he says, handing her the menu as he lets out a long, low sigh.

  “Eggs?” I say, lowering my menu as I stare at him with feigned concern. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to eat that, honey?”

  He’s staring at me with an icy glare. “Why wouldn’t it be? Honey.”

  I have to hold in my laugh as I pretend to be the concerned wife. “Your IBS will kick in.” I lean in close to Gonorrhea and lower my voice. “He has irritable bowel syndrome. Just one bite of an egg and his asshole will turn into a fire hose for the rest of the day. It’s disgusting, but I still love him, even though he does cost us a fortune in toilet paper.”

  The tip of his lips curls up into a half smile as I reach across the table and take his hand in mine. “It’s a challenge for both of us,” I say, nodding as I look at him with soft eyes. “And we have to replace our toilet at least once a year, but our love is worth the struggle.”

  “Are you finished?” he whispers to me.

  I shake my head slowly. “I’m just getting started.”

  He gulps as he turns to the waitress, not looking nearly as confident as before. “Just bring us some pancakes please.”

  Gonorrhea looks at me and I nod. It was what I was going to order anyway.

  She hurries away from our table like his made-up IBS is contagious.

  “Irritable bowel syndrome?” he asks, shaking his head as he watches me. “Really?”

  “I improvised,” I say, grinning. “You always have shit spewing out of your mouth, so I thought it was fitting.”

  He leans back in the booth and laughs. “You were just jealous.”

  “Ha!” I scream, a little too loud. Way too loud, actually. People at the neighboring tables lower their waffle and egg covered forks to turn and look at me. “We’re supposed to give the appearance that we’re married. How is it going to look if you’re getting numbers from slutty waitresses?”

  He rolls his eyes as he grabs his empty coffee cup and looks in it. “We could have had great service because of me, but she’s probably hiding in the back now because of you.”

  And I couldn’t be happier.

  “Let’s get down to work,” I say, folding my hands on the table as I put on my business face. “We have to know the basics about each other.”

  “Fine,” he says, running his hand through his hair. The short sleeve of his t-shirt falls down his arm, showing off a tattooed tricep. I swallow the whimper that’s crawling up my throat.

  “What’s your favorite position?” he asks.

  “For what?”

  He leans in with a raised eyebrow. “For when we’re together.”

  I take a deep breath as I glare at his frustratingly beautiful face. “My favorite position for when we’re together is me turned away from you with my hands over my ears.”

  He grabs my pen and scribbles on his napkin as he nods his head. “So, doggystyle. Nice. I was picturing you on top, but this is good too.”

  “I’m picturing you with your head in a vise,” I say in a tight voice.

  He just ignores me, tapping the pen on his strong chin. “So, doggystyle. Facing a mirror?”

  “Ha!” I laugh, crossing my arms and leaning back as I stare at him in disbelief. “You are so in love with yourself. Of course, you would have to be facing a mirror when you have sex. Would I have to put on your cologne as well, so you can close your eyes and pretend that you’re having sex with yourself?”

  “No,” he says, shaking his head as he grins at me. “I like your smell. It smells like pent-up sexual aggression mixed with denial.”

  I huff out
another laugh. The pent-up sexual aggression I’ll give him, but the denial? No.

  “Denial of what?”

  He leans over the table and holds my eyes with his icy blues. My heart starts pounding in my chest as the hair raises on my arms. Why does he have to be so hot? This would be so much easier if his face matched the ugliness of his soul.

  “Denial that you want me to pick you up, throw you over my shoulder, bring you to our room, and not let you out until your legs are trembling, you’re covered in sweat, and everyone in the resort knows my name.”

  The sexy timbre of his voice sends warm shivers through my body which mix with the flood of warmth brought on by his words. I hold my breath, barely able to breathe under his intense stare.

  My palms are so sweaty that I’m wishing I didn’t make confetti out of my napkin.

  “You’re the one in denial,” I say, swallowing the increased saliva in my mouth.

  “This should be good,” he says, raising his chin as he waits for it. “What am I in denial of?”

  “That I’m not attracted to you,” I say, trying not to scratch my cheek, look away, or do any of the other poker tells that will show I’m lying. “That not every woman on the planet wants to see you naked or have disappointing sex with you.”

  The waitress interrupts us when she returns to the table with a pot of coffee. She fills our cups in record time and hurries away before either of us can talk to her.

  Dex stares at me as he opens a milk and pours it into his coffee. “So, one milk,” I say, taking my pen back and writing it on the pad of paper that I brought. “We should know how we take each other’s coffee. I take mine with two milks.”

  He doesn’t write it down. Why is he not writing it down?

  “Where do we live?” I ask, tapping my chin with the pen.

  “Colorado.”

  “Why would we need a yacht if we live in Colorado?”

  “Fine,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Miami.”

  I think about it for a second and then nod. “That’s good.” I write it in the notes.

  “Do we have any pets?” I ask.

  He takes a sip of his coffee and grins. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “Two dogs,” I say, writing it down. “Sherry is our German Shepherd, and Canuck is our pug. We rescued him while on vacation in Canada.”

  “We rescued him?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “From a fire or something?”

  “No,” I say, frowning at him. “From the pound.”

  “Okay, Wonder Woman,” he says, laughing at me. “You walked into the pound and rescued him. You’re such a hero.”

  “Fine,” I say, aggressively crossing out the last line with my pen. “No pets. What do you do for a living?”

  He hums as he thinks about it. “Elementary school teacher.”

  I jerk my head back in surprise. With his huge frame and hard round muscles covered in ink, an elementary school teacher is the last thing that he looks like. He turns away, looking embarrassed as I stare at him, trying to figure it all out.

  “What?” he asks with a shrug. “I like kids.”

  “Do you know any elementary school teachers who own a yacht?”

  He sighs. “Why don’t you just tell me what I do for a living? What do I look like to you?”

  A model, a rockstar, a pornstar, the Devil.

  “Let’s go with real estate investor.”

  “And you were a mail order bride,” he says before casually taking a sip of his coffee.

  “What?”

  “I picked you out of a catalog.”

  “What is wrong with you?” I ask, furrowing my brow. “I’m a smart, independent, working woman.”

  He just shrugs.

  We go on like this, hammering out details until our pancakes arrive. At least, I go on like this. Dex sits there, looking more bored by the minute.

  He’s still not writing any of it down.

  His continued lack of giving any fucks is starting to get on my nerves.

  We eat fast so we can grab our bags and head to the lobby in time. He doesn’t seem to be listening as I reread him my notes, trying to slam the information into his thick skull.

  “All right,” Marv says when we see him in the lobby. “From this point forward, you two are happily married owners of a yacht.”

  Dex is grinning as he looks down at me. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you the luckiest woman in the world.”

  “Great,” I say, glaring back at him. “You may now kiss my ass.”

  Chapter Seven

  Riley

  I’m giddy with anticipation as I walk down the dock to the plane that’s floating in the turquoise ocean. It’s a Cessna 185 fitted with floating pontoons that will let us take-off and land in water. I’ve never been in a float plane before even though it’s been on my bucket list since I was six-years-old.

  Dex slaps the ass of the plane that’s bouncing up and down in the water and grins at me. “I like my girls bouncy and wet before I slip inside of them.”

  My bucket list is quickly turning into a fuck-it list. All I want to do is fill the bucket with wine when I’m around this guy.

  He opens the door of the four-seater plane and slips inside without doing the necessary outside checks.

  “Excuse me,” I say, knocking on his window as I stand on the dock. “You didn’t do the walk-around!”

  He sighs before opening the window and looks at me as he slides his Ray Ban aviator sunglasses on. Fuck, he looks hot in those. I think about taking a quick dip in the ocean to cool off before getting inside.

  “What?” he asks, huffing out a breath.

  “You didn’t do the walk-around,” I say, staring at my reflection in his mirrored sunglasses. Do I really look that uptight?

  “The plane is floating in water,” he says, dipping his sunglasses down so he can see me uninterrupted. “I don’t do swim-arounds.”

  Thankfully, Marv and Kara are walking up the dock behind me. Marv is pounding something onto his phone with his thick fingers as Kara scowls at me. She has the beauty of a mermaid with the personality of a pirate. I just wish I could strand her out to sea where she belongs.

  “Mr. Gladstone,” I say in my high pitched someone’s-not-following-the-rules voice. “I regret to inform you that Dex hasn’t performed all of the necessary checks before starting the airplane.”

  He barrels past me. “And I regret to inform you that I don’t care.” He rips open the back door of the plane as he stuffs his phone into his pocket. “Can you swim?”

  “Yes,” I say meekly as Kara flashes me a dirty look while she struts past me.

  “Then don’t worry so much,” Marv says as he gets in the plane. “Dex is a skilled pilot.”

  “Why are you so afraid of dying?” Kara asks, grinning at me behind her designer sunglasses. “It’s not like anyone is going to be that upset if you do. Lighten up.”

  My hands are clenched into fists as I grind my teeth, watching her climb into the backseat after Marv. She grins at me as she shuts the door.

  The engine sputters as Dex starts the plane. I’m still seething at Kara’s words as the propeller on the nose of the plane starts spinning, sending my brown hair flying into my face.

  If he’s not going to do the walk-around, then I will.

  He’s grinning at me through the window as I carefully look the plane up and down, running my fingertips over every bolt to make sure they’re nice and tight. I run my hands over the flaps to make sure they’re not obstructed by anything like a bird who decided to nest in there. The pilot’s side of the aircraft is parked against the dock but there’s no way I can get to the other side without a bathing suit.

  Dex pops his head out of the window with a shit-eating grin on his face. “What about the other side of the airplane?”

  “Shut up,” I say, looking away from his smug face.

  He doesn’t shut up. He just rubs it in deeper. “Performing a walk-around is an FAA regulation,” he says
in an official-sounding voice. “Better get your arm floaties on.”

  I fold my arms across my chest as I turn away, avoiding having to look at the frustrating pilot. “Fine,” I say in a sharp tone. “Let me in.”

  Dex opens his door and grins. He looks gorgeous with his thick, toned legs sticking out of his shorts, his inked-up muscular arms, the aviator sunglasses, and headset resting around his neck. His wicked mouth is grinning at me, making my insides turn as fast as the propeller. He’s just my type-until he opens his goddamn mouth.

  “Climb over,” he says, patting his lap.

  “No!” I say, trying to melt him with my stare. “You get out first.”

  He shrugs with a knowing smile on his lips. “You know as well as I do that once the engine is running, the pilot is forbidden to leave the Captain’s seat.”

  “Since when do you follow the rules?”

  He bites his bottom lip as he looks me up and down. “Since it benefits me.”

  I take a deep breath as I look around, wondering what to do. He’ll just refuse to get out, but I don’t want to crawl over him like he’s about to give me a spanking.

  Marv makes my decision easier. “Get in the plane or you can walk back to LA!” he yells, sticking his big head between the seats.

  This goes against everything I stand for, but I really need that money, so I swallow my pride and climb up. Dex smiles, laughing at me as I place my hand on his hard thigh and crawl over him. There’s not a lot of room between him and the yoke, so my body crushes against his as I hurry over.

  He tries to help me over by putting a hand on my ass so I slam a knee into his groin as a thank you.

  “Oompf,” he grunts, swallowing hard as I crawl into the passenger’s seat with my heart racing. “I always knew you were a ball buster but fuck.”

  “Good to see you two looking like a married couple,” Marv says, sticking his head between us. “With all of the fighting up there, it feels like I’m a kid again watching my parents on a road trip. But we agreed on happy couple, not miserable-I-made-a-mistake-in-marrying-you couple.”

  “You’re asking for an Oscar performance,” I mumble. Do I look like Meryl Streep?