by Max Monroe
“Relax. I’m not coming with you.” He rolled his eyes. “I have to go back up to the high school for more football. Yay.”
I shook my head at my little brother and gave him a shove in his. “Maybe some other time.”
“You’re staying in a hotel tonight?” he asked.
“At the airport. Just to make it easier to make the flight in the morning.”
He leaned forward and clasped his hands at his chest. “Take me with you.”
I laughed at his desperation and then shrugged. “You can come to the hotel with me if you want.”
He smiled at me affectionately and then shook his head with resigned determination. “I can’t. I promised Dad I’d go back to the final tryout in the morning.”
My heart swelled for my brother. He was such a good guy. After all my parents had put him through, he still took things that were important to them seriously. He kept his promises, and he honored his responsibilities.
“You’re a good man, Den. Really. When you’re not annoying the shit out of me, I’m really proud to call you my brother.”
He laughed. “So flowery.”
I put out my fist and waited for him to touch his to mine. “Until next time, bro.”
“We’d like to welcome Zone One for RoyalAir flight 2209 to board at this time. Passengers in Zone One,” the gate agent announced. Of course, most of us were already lined up like a bunch of fucking cattle.
I wasn’t sure where the urge came from to be on the plane for longer than absolutely necessary, but all but one or two stragglers left in the seating area seemed to have it.
However, I, myself, had something else driving me to get on board.
Several somethings with wings and little fucking antennas, and they were flying all over my fucking stomach.
I hadn’t been this nervous since my first game as the starting quarterback for the Mavericks. I wasn’t sure if it was the thought of seeing Cat again or my brother’s words about stalking her, but angst was my new pet—and it lived within me.
She won’t think I’m stalking her, will she? I mean, I have to fly back to New York, right? I live there. I work there. This is normal.
I moved with the line and stepped up to the scanner, turning over my phone to scan my boarding pass and listened for the beep that said I could move down the jetway. The machine did its magic, and the woman behind it gave me a professional smile. “Welcome aboard, sir.”
I smiled back and hustled away, stretching my steps out to be long and slow as I marched down the little square tunnel.
I tucked my phone into my bag and prepared to duck as I approached the metal doorway, eager to make a better entrance this time. Walking and texting yourself into injury in front of people is really only funny the first time you do it.
I had to keep my neck craned to the side as I stepped across the threshold since I was too tall to stand all the way up, but I smiled anyway. I’d managed to make it in without hitting my head this time.
Step one, accomplished.
Almost as if on cue, Casey’s head came up from his spot across the galley, and his eyes widened slightly. Recognition ripened the air between us.
“Well, well. Back for another ride, Quinn?”
I almost laughed at his double entendre—a pun I was absolutely certain he’d made on purpose—but I was too busy hoping the reason he remembered my name was because Cat had been talking about me.
“What goes to Alabama, must come back,” I teased, and he smirked.
Cat came charging up the aisle right then, several bagged blankets in her hands, and my breath caught in my chest. She was even more beautiful than I’d recalled.
Thankfully, Casey didn’t seem to have the same problem as he breathed out a taunt with ease. “Oh, Catharinnnne. Look who it is!”
I smiled—at least, I tried to smile as my cheeks turned into some form of flesh-colored Jell-O—and waited for her to meet my eyes.
Panic, pungent and swift, gripped my every muscle and threatened to paralyze me.
What if she looked disappointed to see me?
Up and up, her eyes climbed my body until they found my own, flaring more with every inch they passed. She knew the ridges of my stomach and the soft swell of my chest, she knew the line of my throat as I swallowed in anticipation, and she knew my eyes when she found them. It was even better than I could have hoped.
Wide-eyed and beautiful, she caught her toe on the edge of the aisle runner, and she went tumbling—right into me. The bagged blankets in her hands shot out in all directions, falling unceremoniously onto the seats in her close proximity.
I caught her against me, chest to chest, and watched up close as her pupils dilated at my touch.
Yeah. I’d made the right decision.
This flight was going to be fun.
One second, I’d been focused on my first-class seats, ensuring passengers would have fresh blankets, eye masks, and complimentary earbuds for the flight. And the next, I was tripping over my heels because my brain forgot to instruct my feet how to walk.
It wasn’t my brain’s fault, though.
The sight before my unsuspecting eyes had been information overload. My brain had tried to understand, all synapses firing erratically in search of a rational explanation, but it was no use.
The shock and view of Quinn Bailey standing in the middle of the aisle had been too much to comprehend. I’d tripped on my own two feet, and had he not managed to catch me within the safety of his strong, firm arms, I would’ve been one step closer to becoming some kind of airplane lesbian—after eating the aisle carpet.
Holy hell, he was on my flight back to JFK?
I wasn’t sure if he was a mere mirage from too many flights and too little sleep, but I knew one thing for sure—he smelled crazy good.
His scent filtered into my nostrils, and instantly, like a kid trick-or-treating for candy on Halloween night, I wanted more.
Discreetly, I inched my nose toward his neck because I couldn’t stop myself from taking another inhale. A little spicy, a little sweet, the subtle scents of cinnamon and vanilla filled my olfactory senses. He smelled like heaven wrapped up in a giant red bow with a side of strong and alpha and one hundred percent man on the side.
There was no denying—even with just one good, hearty sniff on record—my pheromones were addicted to his pheromones.
With strong hands, he helped me back to my feet. Which was good. Standing was good. Only, standing meant looking, and looking meant saying, and, faced with those intoxicating blue eyes of his, I had no idea what to say.
Uh…hi?
What are you doing here…?
Sorry for falling into you like I’m Jennifer Lawrence at the Academy Awards…?
I needed the right words, but obviously, my brain wasn’t offering up anything of value. I think I was still in shock, but I guessed an unexpected visit from Quinn Bailey would do that to a girl—and I do mean any girl. His fans, his admirers, and then women like me—who had no idea about the public persona, but had been lucky enough to be charmed by the actual man.
He must have sensed my momentary speechlessness, and he hopped behind the driver’s seat and put our conversation back into gear.
“Are you okay? You didn’t hurt anything, did you?”
Hurt anything? From what?
The fall, you idiot! my brain shouted, for once, thinking rationally again.
Oh, shit. Right. I’d literally just fallen into him like a sack of fucking potatoes. Not to mention the confetti of airplane blankets I’d tossed out on the way down.
“I’m fine,” I said, and a self-deprecating smile crested one corner of my mouth. “Thanks to your quick hands.”
He winked. “You know, funnily enough, that isn’t the first time I’ve heard that.”
“Um…can I get through?” a passenger standing behind Quinn caught my attention.
I glanced over his shoulder and realized there was a line of people waiting to file on to the plane.
<
br /> Dear God. It was like I’d completely forgotten where the hell I was.
“Oh, man,” Quinn muttered and quickly moved out of the aisle and into row three, where his seat must have been located. “Sorry about that.”
“So sorry for the delay,” I apologized to the slightly irritated man standing at the front of the passenger line. “I had a little bit of a fall in the aisle.”
The man just shrugged and offered a small grunt of acceptance, and then proceeded to shuffle his white Reebok trainers down the aisle, past the first-class curtains, until he reached his seat in the first few rows of coach.
While the rest of our passengers filed on to the plane, I couldn’t stop myself from stealing a glance in Quinn’s direction.
3A. That was where he’d be for the duration of the flight.
For a brief moment, his eyes met mine. They were soft and warm and that perfect shade of blue that if you painted a room inside your house that very same color, it would only provide feelings of serenity and comfort.
And his gaze whispered promises of more to come.
I was entranced, and it took all of my willpower to break the hold and get back to work, my first order of business being the mess of blankets I’d thrown across the seats.
Holy moly, this flight was about to be very, very interesting.
The wheels of the cart shook as we reached the final row of coach. With me driving and Casey pulling the back end, we worked to finish up our complimentary drink and snack service.
Yes, I was supposed to be running the show in first class during this flight, but the fact that Quinn was sitting in row three, seat A, had urged me to keep myself as busy as humanly possible over the past two hours.
I still couldn’t believe he was on my flight. Again.
And I definitely didn’t trust myself to stay in first class and be so close to him. I feared he was too much of a distraction for me to actually do my job if I had to constantly see his handsome face.
Although, I’d spent the majority of the flight trying to understand exactly why Quinn was on my flight.
I could have sworn, when we’d been talking on the train in the wee hours of the morning, he’d told me his flight home was tomorrow. Didn’t he? God, I couldn’t remember.
But if that were true, that would mean he’d purposefully situated himself on this flight, my flight. Had that been what he’d meant by his “Don’t worry, we’ll talk later” text?
No way that was possible…right?
“Would you two like something to drink or eat, sir?” I asked the blond gentleman keeping his preschool-age daughter occupied with a movie on an iPad.
“I want a cookie, daddy!” the little one shouted. Her blond curls bounced off of her shoulders as she looked up at me expectantly.
“What about a chocolate chip cookie?” I asked with a smile. “How does that sound?”
She reached out with both hands and wiggled her fingers around. “Ohhh, gimme! Gimme!”
“Don’t forget to say please and thank you, Lucy,” her father scolded with an apologetic smile in my direction.
“Gimme, pease and thank you!”
I couldn’t not laugh at her manner faux pas, and I set a plastic-wrapped cookie on her tray. “What about something to drink?”
“She’ll take some orange juice, and I’ll have a Coke.”
“Coming right up.” I pulled out two cans that matched their orders from my drink drawer, and their glasses were filled halfway a moment later. Carefully, I set their beverages on their trays just as Casey served his last passenger on the right side of the plane.
And thank God for the passengers. I knew as sure as I knew my own name that, had it not been for their presence, Casey would have been six miles deep into his Quinn Bailey interrogation by now. As it was, he’d only had time to give me precursory looks—the ones that usually came directly before the questions—before getting interrupted.
Once we secured the cart back in the galley, I headed toward the front of the plane to take over first class from Nikki—and get away from Casey—as fast as my heels would take me. Casey’s arched brow promised future retribution.
“Everything okay?” Nikki asked, and I could feel her assessing every inch of my face.
Shit. They’re coming at me from both sides.
“Yep,” I responded and busied myself with cleaning out the coffee machine. “Just figured I’d give your feet a break and keep Casey entertained for a bit in coach.”
Nikki quirked a brow but didn’t say anything.
No doubt, I’d be receiving some questions via group text later tonight.
How in the hell was I supposed to explain that the famous quarterback in first class was someone I knew? After parting ways at the train station the way we had, with a mob of fans landing on Quinn like he was as sticky as glue, I’d decided to withhold from my friends. Normally, talking about new guys, new underwear, and new dreams were all things deserving of an immediate overanalysis among friends. But this felt scarier and less realistic than any other normal meet-cute. And the thought of talking about it made me feel vulnerable.
Frankly, it’d be easier to tell my friends I was resigning from my position at RoyalAir to take a job with NASA as a space rocket stewardess.
I glanced over my shoulder to find Quinn looking straight toward me.
Like, direct eye contact.
I smiled. Or at least, I think I smiled.
I might have looked constipated.
He returned the awkward sentiment, only he did it well.
Vivid blue eyes, soft yet firm cheeks, a strong jaw, and a fantastic fucking smile that instantly put you at ease and practically charmed you right out of your panties at the same time. That smile, those full lips, and his perfect white teeth were a dangerous combo, that was for fucking sure.
Once the seat belt sign turned back on, Captain Billy announced our impending landing, notifying the passengers and staff to finish up whatever they were doing and prepare for our final destination: New York City.
Nikki, Casey, and I spent the last twenty minutes of the flight cleaning up both galleys, collecting trash, and rechecking our passengers for buckled seat belts, upright trays and seats, and stowed away luggage. And with a little resourcefulness, I made sure I was doing it wherever I needed to be to avoid Casey’s cross-examination.
At four minutes past noon, Captain Billy eased us out of the sky, and our wheels touched down on JFK’s tarmac. The brakes engaged with their familiar squeal, and our aircraft kissed the ground gracefully. Billy had been flying planes for twenty plus years and consistently proved the more experience a pilot had under his belt, the more enjoyable the overall flight was for its passengers.
In my short stint on this job, I’d quickly learned that he was one of the best.
“Welcome to New York,” he announced through the overhead speakers as we taxied toward our gate. “Weather at our destination is a warm eighty degrees with some broken clouds, but don’t worry, they’ll try to have them fixed before we reach the gate.” I could literally hear the smile in his voice.
Between Billy and Casey, I didn’t know who was trying harder to turn our intercom system into their own personal stand-up comedy routine.
“We’d like to thank you folks for flying with us today,” Casey added into the beige phone on the wall in front of the cockpit. “And the next time you get the insane urge to go blasting through the skies in a pressurized metal tube, we hope you’ll think of us here at RoyalAir.”
“Oh,” Captain Billy interrupted, “And remember, the last one on the plane has to clean it.”
I watched as a few passengers glanced around the cabin at each other, smiles and soft laughter on their amused lips.
Casey cackled and banged his hand against the cockpit door with two swift movements. “Please ignore him,” he corrected into the intercom through a soft chuckle, and Captain Billy’s responding laugh permeated all the way through the metal door.
“Actually,
our pilot will be the one cleaning the plane after we land.”
Of course, my flight attendant bestie wasn’t finished giving his ending spiel.
“It is important that everyone remains seated until Captain Comedian turns off the seat belt light. And once we reach our gate, and as you exit the plane, please make sure to gather all of your belongings. Anything left behind will be distributed evenly among the flight attendants. Please do not leave children or spouses.”
Immediately, more chuckles filled the cabin as we pulled up to the gate.
Nikki and I glanced at each other from opposite ends of the plane. She rolled her eyes with a grin, and my answering facial expression was identical to hers.
I often wondered if one day we’d be called into a meeting with our CEO regarding the constant supply of jokes through the overhead speakers. If it ever happened, you bet your ass I’d sing like a canary.
Kidding. Well, sort of. It’d probably depend on how much money Billy and Casey paid me to keep my mouth shut.
“Let’s rock and roll,” Casey whispered once he finished up having fun with the intercom. “I’d like to be off this plane in no less than ten minutes once we hit the gate.”
“Hot date?” Nikki questioned, and he just waggled his eyebrows in response.
“Tell me it’s that adorable gate agent from Allied Air.” I grinned, and internally, I was thankful his attention was otherwise diverted from asking me about Quinn.
Casey’s responding grin was carnal.
“It’s definitely the guy from Allied,” Nikki whispered toward me, but loud enough for him to hear, and then purposefully poked Casey in the chest with her index finger. “You better tell us everything. Or else.”
“Or else what?” Casey questioned with a hand to his hip.
“Or else you can expect an all-out catfight,” I chimed in.
If I just kept him talking about the hot guy from Allied Air, he’d completely forget to ask me about Quinn.
“And why is Cat allowed to keep secrets about male suitors and I’m not?”
His question was like a needle straight to my hope balloon.
