by Jamie Howard
“Really, that’s what we’re focusing on right now?”
“It’s a very convenient story,” Bunny says, completely ignoring me. She turns toward Blaire as she drums her fingers against her arm.
“Indeed,” Blaire says, copying her pose. “It doesn’t seem like a really smart idea to invite the woman you’re in love with over to your place when you haven’t actually ended things with the woman you’re currently seeing, does it Gran?”
I curl my hands into fists and have to physically relax them. As much as I’d like to wrap my hands around Blaire’s arms and shake her until she answers my question, I know it’s probably not the best solution. We’ll call that plan B.
Gran purses her lips and sighs. “Give the guy a break, Blaire. It’s clear he’s made some very stupid mistakes.”
“Hmph.”
I bite my tongue and force my tone to be civil. “Where is Sloane? Just point me in the right direction so I can fix this.”
“She … left,” Blaire says, gesturing around the room as though that fact is fairly evident.
“Yes, but where did she go?” I grind out.
“The airport, for now,” Bunny replies. “Though in a bit she’ll be on her way to Sydney.”
It’s like I get kneed in the stones all over again.
“How long?”
“Her plane leaves in an hour.”
* * *
The air conditioning blasts me in the face as I burst through the automatic sliding doors of the airport. Thirty minutes—I have thirty minutes to get to Sloane before the plane takes off.
Weaving through several families who are taking a leisurely stroll, I slap my hands down on the ticket counter.
“I need to buy a plane ticket.”
“Good evening, sir, I’d be happy to help you with that. What is your destination?” The woman behind the counter tilts her head to the side like a dog intent on its treat.
“Anywhere.”
“Anywhere? I’m sorry, sir, I don’t understand.”
I flex my fingers, pressing my anger into the laminate counter. “Anywhere. Just give me a ticket to any plane going to any destination.”
Her eyes shift nervously as she taps away at her keyboard. The sound of it is the most aggravating thing I’ve ever heard. “Let’s see here, we have a flight leaving at five thirty for Edinburgh—”
“Great. Book it.” I slide my credit card toward her.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, it looks like that one is all full.”
I grind my teeth together so hard that I see dark spots in my vision. She takes one look at my face and goes back to her keyboard. “Here we are, I have an open seat on a flight to Antigua.”
I nod my head at her, but shit, I don’t have my passport. I won’t make it through security without one.
“Look, I don’t have my passport on me. I just need to speak to someone before they get on their plane, so I’m not even going to use the ticket.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t let you through without your passport if you have a ticket for an international flight. However, I can search for domestic flights if you’d prefer.”
“That would be great, thank you.”
Another ten minutes down the drain, and I sprint to the security checkpoint ticket in hand. I tap my foot against the floor as yet another seven tick by while I wait and then walk through the scanner. Finally through, I skid to a stop in front of the board, scanning it for Sloane’s flight.
I’m running again, lungs burning with the effort, by the time I spot her gate. Every plastic chair is empty.
Don’t let me be too late. Please, don’t let me be too late.
A bead of sweat snakes its way down my back as I lean against the counter. The airport employee’s eyes flicker up and down my body. “Sir, are you ill? Do you need me to call for medical personnel?”
I shake my head, trying to catch my breath. “I need to speak to someone on that plane.”
She frowns. “I’m sorry sir, but unless you have a ticket I cannot let you on the plane.”
“Then don’t; go get her for me. Please, it will just take a minute. She can’t leave.”
I can see her hesitating, so I press the advantage. “Please, Rhonda.” I pluck her name from her name tag. “It’s very important that I speak with her.”
“I don’t know…”
I lock eyes with her. “Please.”
“I, well, alright. I’ll see if she’ll come speak with you.”
Relief floods through me and I close my eyes. I’m not too late. I can explain, she’ll understand, and everything will be fine.
“Oh, no.”
My eyes fly open, zeroing in on Rhonda.
Her hand flutters at the window, where I can see a plane taxiing forward, moving slowly away from us.
“I’m so sorry, sir, but it looks like you’re too late.”
Chapter 46
Sloane
This stretch of road must be cursed. Seriously, I have never seen as many broken-down cars on any other road. Okay, so I can’t really blame this one on the road, but still. After all, it was my stupid ass that didn’t realize I was running on fumes. Sure, I had enough gas to get me to the airport, but at the time I wasn’t really thinking about having enough to get back.
I was sitting on the plane, lounging in my first-class seat, thinking about surfing off the Great Barrier Reef when anger hit me like a tidal wave. Luke is an asshole. A two-timing, piece of crap, manwhoring asshole. Why do I need to fly to the other end of the world to get away from him? He needs to stay the hell away from me.
Storming off the plane had caused a minor scene, but before I really thought it through, I was back in the Lambo and eating up the miles to Briscoll Bay. My sister is getting married, and that’s something I should be here for, and Luke Fucking Evans isn’t going to keep me away from that.
Unfortunately, the Lambo doesn’t run on anger.
I turn my purse upside down for the second time, pawing through its contents. Apparently my phone hasn’t magically reappeared here since the last time I checked. I glance down the empty stretch of road. Someone will drive past. Eventually.
Slamming the door closed behind me, I scuff my feet in the dirt, kicking at a pebble. Dust clouds the air and I sneeze.
I hear the growl of an engine before the car comes into sight. Finally. Now the only trick is getting them to stop.
I give the front edge of my shirt a little tug, rearranging the ladies so that they’re displayed to optimal effect. Fingers crossed this car has someone in it who might be swayed into giving me some assistance, with or without my boobs acting as an incentive.
Waving a hand in the air, I stretch up on my toes.
A grin bursts across my face when the car slows and pulls over. That is, until I recognize the car. My damsel-in-distress guise nearly slips when Luke gets out of the car.
Luke Fucking Evans. Of course it is. My personal knight in shining tuxedo. Except without the tuxedo this time. With his rumpled clothes, messy hair, and stubbled cheeks, he looks more like a homeless person than any kind of savior. If he were a stranger, I’d be tempted to hop back in my car, lock the doors, and cross my fingers that another person would happen by. Part of me is still tempted to do just that, but I hold my ground.
My mind flashes through a thousand different scenarios in under three seconds. No, appearing angry or upset will only give him the satisfaction of knowing that he got to me, and I always play to win.
Maintaining my pose, I let one hand drift down to my hip.
He takes two quick steps forward, finally catches sight of my face, and then stops.
“Car trouble?” he asks.
“It seems that way.”
“Want me to take a look?”
I resist the urge to snort and instead flutter my eyelashes at him. “I’d really appreciate that.”
He brushes by me on the way to the front of my car, and my stomach muscles tense where his arm grazes against it. Po
pping open the hood, he bends over to inspect it, his fingers tracing along the plastic coverings and tubes.
He points to something. “Here’s your problem, right here.”
“Oh, and what exactly is my problem?” I ask, bumping my hip up against the front fender and leaning there.
His hands find their way to his hips as he straightens. “Your problem, Sloane, is that you never give anyone the benefit of the doubt.”
“Hmm.” I nod my head. “See, I thought my problem was that I give too many second chances. Or that I ran out of gas.”
His eyes narrow. “Why am I looking under the hood if you’re out of gas?”
I shrug. “Who knows? You’re the one who wanted to.”
His expression softens as he walks toward me, and then he takes me completely by surprise when he kisses me, drawing back with a heartwarming smile on his face. This guy must have a death wish. “You didn’t get on the plane.”
It takes a moment for his words to register. I clap my hand over my mouth. “Oh, my god. You think I didn’t get on the plane because I was coming back for you?”
I let the laughter take the place of my tears. I’ve never felt such painful laughter.
“Then why? Why aren’t you on your way to Sydney right now?”
“Why?” I shove him in the chest and he stumbles backward. “Because I decided that just because you won Con Man of the Year for your performance last night doesn’t mean that I need to go anywhere. Now, can I borrow your phone?”
“Sure,” he says, retrieving it from his pocket and slapping it into my hand.
I press the power button, but the screen stays black. “It’s dead.”
“Yes, it is. Which is why the alarm I set for myself to wake up this morning and talk with Haley never went off. It’s also why I never answered your calls.”
“You set an alarm to break up with your girlfriend? Who does that?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “Why is that the only thing that anyone’s latching on to? I was exhausted, so before we went to bed, I set an alarm. I just forgot to plug the damn thing in.”
“Before you went to bed? With Haley. I knew you slept with her. God, you are disgusting!” A shudder ripples through my body as I walk away from him. Changed, my ass.
“What?” He grabs my arm and spins me around. “I didn’t sleep with her. I slept on the couch, I swear. What kind of guy do you think I am?”
He covers my retort with his hand, his fingers soft against my lips. “Don’t answer that.” His gaze holds me captive. “When I finally woke up this afternoon, she ended things with me before I even got the chance. As soon as it was over I came after you. I stood there and watched as your plane took off, taking my heart with it. Then I turned around and bought this.” Grabbing something from his back pocket, he presses it into my hand.
The paper crinkles in my hand as I unfold it. One first-class ticket to Sydney.
He grins down at me, that grin that makes my heart stumble over itself. “I wasn’t going to let you get away this time, Sloane Avery. You belong with me. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it. And I’m sorry for leading you on, and avoiding you, and getting turned on from your lap dance—”
I silence his apologies by sealing my mouth over his.
“You should always get turned on from my lap dances.”
He raises his eyebrows at me. “Does that mean there will be more of them?”
I grin. “Only if you ask nicely.”
This time, when he bends to kiss me again, both our lips are curved in smiles. He wraps his arms around me, his hands running up my back as he crushes me against him. It doesn’t matter that we’re standing on the side of the road or that anyone can see us. When I sway my hips into his, he grimaces and pulls back.
“Sorry, your sister already did some damage to that this morning.”
My mouth drops open neatly in shock.
“No. No, that is not what I meant. Sloane.” He points a finger at me. “She kneed me in the balls this morning on your behalf.”
A laugh escapes from between my lips. “I’m not sure whether I should buy her a drink later or give her a severe reprimand on behalf of our future children.”
“We’re having children?” he asks, his eyes going wide.
“Of course. Boatloads.” I wave a hand flippantly in the air. “Why, does that scare you?”
His eyes crinkle at the corners as he shakes his head at me. “No, having a dozen children with you sounds like an adventure.” His expression sobers. “The only thing that scares me is the thought of you leaving. No more running Sloane.”
“No more women.”
“Deal.” His lips find mine again before they take a detour to my neck and then my ear. “It’s just me and you—”
“And Blaire.”
“Right, and Blaire.” He jerks back. “Wait, what?”
I give him my most innocent look. “What, you draw the line at sibling threesomes?”
Without warning, he picks me up and hoists me over his shoulder. His fingers dance up and down my rib cage, and I convulse with laughter.
“Luke, put me down!”
Opening the passenger door to his car, he dumps me in the seat. He walks around the car and slips behind the wheel. “You’re going to pay for that comment.”
I trail a finger down his arm. “Are you sure you’re up for that? What with your damaged parts and all?”
He traps my hand in his. “Don’t you worry about my parts. Although”—he grimaces, kneading his fingers over his forehead—“do you happen to have any aspirin?”
I laugh. A real one this time, one that warms me from the inside out. “For you? Always.”
Read on for an excerpt from
Jamie Howard’s new novel,
Until It’s Right.
Copyright © 2015 by Jamie Howard
Chapter 1
Haley
I’m not sure what’s thumping louder—the bass or my heart.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Tara asks, wrapping her fingers around my arm. The skin of her hand looks startlingly dark against my pale skin, more so than usual from my recently shed hermit status. Something sharp stabs at my heart, like the quick, painful jab of a finger prick. Images of my ex, Luke, and his new girlfriend, Sloane, and the ensuing breakup and despair, crowd the edges of my mind. I quickly brush them away, mentally swiping at them like insignificant cobwebs. Not tonight.
I shift in my heels, trying to relieve the pressure on the balls of my feet. “As ready as I’m ever going to be.”
Tara links her arm through mine, and we walk together into Rodeo Jive, the signature bar of the young and wealthy, the career-oriented and highly aspirational twentysomethings. The “suits” are lined up at the bar—jackets discarded, ties loosened, sleeves rolled up. Designer clothing and expensive price tags hug the curves of every woman in the place, and for the first time since I dropped a chunk of my savings on my new wardrobe, I actually feel as though my splurge was justified. Even the thought of showing up here in one of my thrift-store finds makes a blush heat my cheeks.
“Two martinis, up, two olives,” Tara says, leaning her elbows onto the polished bar top.
I scoot onto the empty stool next to her, tugging down the hem of my black dress. Despite my attempts, it inches back up to mid-thigh. Taking a deep breath, I try to channel my inner Sloane. Yes, she may have stolen the former love of my life, and true, given the chance I’d probably … well, I probably won’t do anything but ignore her, but still, there’s something about her that’s undeniably hypnotic. She walks into the room and she’s a presence. And it’s not just her looks or her money—though that helps—it’s her attitude, her confidence.
Maybe if I’d been more like her in the first place, I wouldn’t be single right now.
The gin sloshes over the sides of the glass as Tara slides it over to me. “To you, my dear Haley, on your first night back in the dating pool.”
/>
We clink glasses, and I take a small sip. A very small sip. The alcohol burns a path down my throat, but at least I’ve gotten used to it enough that I don’t choke. “Delia really didn’t mind you going out with me tonight?”
Tara waves a dismissive hand at me, her gold bracelet sliding up her arm. “Please, that girl was just glad she could snuggle up on the couch with a movie rather than partying with her needy girlfriend until all hours of the morning.” She plucks the toothpick from her glass and pinches an olive between her teeth, dragging it off. “Enough about me. Tonight is about Haley and finding her a man.”
Right.
I don’t know why I’m so hesitant about the whole thing. It was my idea. After spending the last few years with Luke by my side, the past six months have been unbearable. It’s not that I need a guy in my life, but for all I avoided them when I was in high school, I desperately miss the companionship. Being lonely sucks.
“How about him?” she asks, with a subtle jut of her chin.
I flick my gaze to the side—tall guy, gorgeous, dark brown hair, a smile that can melt butter. “No.”
“Too hot for you?”
“Too Luke for me.”
“Right, right.” She takes a healthy swallow of her martini and swivels on her stool to face me, crossing one long leg over the other. “Remind me about the qualifications again.”
I tick them off on my fingers. “No manwhores. Can’t remind me of Luke. And—”
“Money, yeah. I remember that one.”
“You make me sound like a gold digger.” I frown. “It’s not about the money, necessarily. He just needs to have a plan. Or ambitions.” The words aren’t cooperating with me. “I just don’t want to live in a trailer park, okay?”
“Relax, Hales—”
Whatever else she says gets lost in a wave of noise, the rush of blood pounding in my ears. From across the room, a pair of eyes locks onto mine, and somewhere in my brain something shifts with a discernible click.
Tara may still be talking for all I know, but all I can see is him. Soft gray slacks over shiny black shoes, a navy button-down with the top two buttons popped, and a smile breaking from between his lips that makes me wonder if I’m the only thing he’s seeing too.
