by Joya Ryan
So they get to live your dream. At least someone does. Even if it’s not me.
She had to dip her head down and pass them. She didn’t want to look at the pretty picture. It made her chest twist. She wanted a family. She was ready. And instead, she was boarding a plane with a plus one who saw her as feeble and wrecked.
“You okay?” Blake asked softly from behind her. Anger spiked though her system. She was tired of being asked if she was okay. No, she wasn’t. But she was trying to be, and Blake was getting in the way. And he smelled good. Especially when he leaned in to her and she felt his hard chest against her back as they shifted through the cramped aisle to their seats.
“I’m actually irritated because I can’t figure out why this oversized mountain man is on my heels.” She shot him a glare, and he grinned. “You really don’t need to follow me to Hawaii. Won’t the moose miss you?”
She was lashing out because A) Blake looked way too good, and B) he was hovering like she was made of glass. How was she supposed to feel strong when he kept her within a two-centimeter radius at all times? Never mind that his presence reminded her she was with yet another man who didn’t see her as more than platonic on a day she thought she’d be blissfully in love.
“Oversized mountain man?” he asked, repeating her words with amusement. “I’ll take that as a compliment. The moose, however, will be fine without me. I’m excited to see Hawaii again.”
“Again?” she asked. She knew Blake had money and traveled. Of course he did, because it wasn’t enough to be sinfully sexy, successful, and own a business. He had to be wealthy and well-traveled, too.
He nodded. “I’d be happy to show you some of my favorite spots.”
“I’m looking to fulfill my own fantasy, thank you,” she said.
“I can help you with that, too.” His voice was raspy and close to her ear, and a tingle shot down her spine.
She was about to come back with some kind of annoyed retort, but he cupped her hips and angled her into her seat.
And all the while, she couldn’t get her mind to shut up.
First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the two-point-five kids, white picket fence, and PTA meetings. At least, that’s what she had thought. That’s what she had wanted. Instead, she plopped down in the small seat of coach class and wondered how her wedding had gone wrong. Because she was very far from what she’d thought would happen. She was hurt, yes, but shocked? No.
Had she ever been in love?
Yes.
But had Kevin been in love with her?
Tough to say.
Maybe in the beginning. But the lack of affection, lack of sex, and general lack of interest over the past year spoke volumes. Which was why Carrie just felt plain lacking. Kevin always liked shiny, unobtainable things. And Carrie was tried and true.
“Predictable,” she mumbled.
“What’s that?” Blake asked, sitting in the aisle seat next to her. He pounded the buttons on his phone a few times. Then lifted it to the ceiling, then the ground. Obviously searching for a signal. Probably trying to text her brother.
Whatever he was doing, he needed to stop getting so close to her. Because he smelled delicious. He also looked good. Really good. Thick dark hair and a day’s worth of matching stubble made his blue eyes look like ice water against his olive skin. The man was beautiful. Especially when he smiled. Not that Carrie had seen him do so today. But he had dimples like you wouldn’t believe. The one on the right side just a little deeper than the left.
Suddenly, she really wanted to see him grin at her. As if that one action could cure the bad parts of today.
She shook her head. “I was just thinking how predictable I am.”
He laughed. Full-on laughed.
And her prayer was answered. Yep, his smile was just as intoxicating as she’d remembered. Sure, he was Lane’s friend, but she’d grown up with him, more or less. Always had a little crush on him. One time, she’d gone to the local river spot where all the kids went to float for summer break. She’d never forget her first time seeing Blake without a shirt on. She was thirteen and he was nineteen, home from college and hanging out with Lane. She’d redefined the meaning of “man” after seeing him like that.
Hiking and mountain climbing had clearly been good to him, since his dress shirt, which he didn’t seem overly comfortable in, was tight around his solid chest and toned torso. Something she could tell because he was still laughing.
“What is so funny?” she asked.
“If you think you’re predicable, then you need to open your eyes, little girl.”
“You don’t know,” she defended.
“Oh, I’ve known you a long time.”
“When we were young. And you’re Lane’s friend, not mine.”
“Ouch, that hurts,” he said, holding a hand over his rock-hard chest that encased his heart. A heart that had never been broken, because everyone knew Blake was the forever bachelor. He’d been around a lot with Lane growing up, after his mom died. Something about a random heart attack when Lane was in middle school. No one saw it coming, but it had clearly devastated little Blake. Carrie was too young back then to really get it. Now being twenty-six, and with Blake in his early thirties, there was a lot she realized she’d been in the background on.
Including her own life.
Still, she hadn’t had sex in a year, and the last time she had, the one word Kevin had used to describe it afterward still stung.
“Predictable,” she said again.
“Look around you,” Blake said, leaning in. “You’re on a plane to Hawaii with an old buddy. Nothing about this is predicable.”
“Easy for you to say. You basically live outside and hunt for your own food.”
He frowned genuinely. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing and not the most awesome concept ever.”
Now she laughed.
Wow, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that. Laughed.
Blake was all man, nothing like Kevin. Kevin was eccentric. An artist with soft hands. But Blake was thick and built and rugged. Held the door open for people and took off his hat when eating dinner. It might have been a while since they’d spent time together, but she knew him. Knew the him that went deeper than most would guess.
She shouldn’t be looking at his clear blue eyes or the stubble lining his jaw, because it was easy to get caught up. She glanced down, only to be met once again with his impressive body wrapped in a button-up and black pants. Not his usual everyday attire. Oh, was this…was this what he would have worn to her wedding? The reminder of that failed day should have made her sad, but his attention to detail comforted her.
“You’re going to need vacation clothes,” she said.
He held up his pack. The one he’d run out to the car to get after she’d slapped a ticket at him.
“I have a change of clothes and my ID, all I need.”
Of course. The man could fashion a McDonalds out of sandpaper and a smile.
“Welcome to the happy newlyweds!” a cheery voice rang out from the stewardess who came to stare them down. “I’m told you just got married,” she said, looking extra long at Blake then taking in the fact that Carrie was wearing her “honeymoon” dress. Crap, they did look like a couple. A fancy couple.
The stewardess leaned down and whispered, “You know, we have two seats available in first class if you’d like for your trip. For the honeymooners.” She winked.
Carrie opened her mouth to correct the situation. “Oh, we’re not—”
“Used to such kindness,” Blake interrupted, and cupped her knee. “We’d love to upgrade. Thank you so much,” he said to the stewardess, then turned to Carrie. “Come on, sweetheart.”
The word sounded like it pained him. She’d never known Blake to have a girlfriend, much less use endearments. Unless “little girl” counted. Which she told herself it didn’t. Even if it did give her chest the tingles.
So what was he trying to pull by
posing as newlyweds? She frowned, ready to ask him just that, when he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You want to be spontaneous? To have your fantasy? Then I’m going to help you get it.”
The stewardess was watching to escort them to their news seats. What was Blake—?
He kissed her earlobe. The stewardess smiled. Carrie couldn’t back out now. She also couldn’t deny how the zing of Blake’s lips on her ear left her all…tingly.
She had no choice but to follow him to first class.
…
Nine days. Blake was going to be with Carrie for nine days. Which shouldn’t be so bad. But as she sashayed her tight little ass into the first-class seat next to his, he was having a hard time focusing on the fact that his mission was to protect and comfort her. Not picture her naked. Not “comfort” her with his arms—mouth—and “protect” her from an orgasm-free day. His enemy would be the distance between her mouth and his, and he would not stop until—
Damn it, now he was worked up again and doing GI Joe commentary in his head.
But this mission really was hard—in a lot of ways. And not entirely his fault. Seriously, how could any man look at her and not want her?
He’d heard her conversation with her friend on the phone. Saw the way she looked at the happy family getting on the plane. He also knew Carrie. She wanted love and a family and to watch the cooking channel while baking pies for her children. She was successful in her own right, working at a gallery in the city, but Carrie had always loved the idea of love.
Blake knew this.
He couldn’t give her any of that.
But he could give her that fantasy she was after. He could help keep her sadness at bay and play the part of a hero, if only to really let her experience what an adventure was.
He had plenty of experience with first-class everything. From the endless countries he’d traveled to for VIP-guided hunting and excursion tours, to bumping elbows with the “elite” at various clubs, islands, and resorts, he was no stranger to lavish adventures. And he wanted Carrie to have that, for at least this week. That he could do.
He glanced at her while she adjusted her dress and wiggled in her seat.
The woman was all curves and soft skin, and the dress was doing nothing to hide either of those truths, because the lace clung to her perfect shape.
Yeah, this was a problem.
“Do you have a change of clothes?” he asked, playing on her assessment of him earlier. Because he didn’t want her thinking she was anything less than stunning, but he couldn’t hold out looking at her in that dress. His goal was to give her a fantasy, not realize she might be his.
She glanced down the front of herself. “Of course I do. I just checked them.”
Ah yes. In that massive suitcase.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked, likely knowing the answer.
She tugged on her bodice, trying to hike it up to cover some of that impressive cleavage, but it didn’t budge. The damn low-cut, strapless number was barely holding it in, much less covering anything.
Lucky dress.
“I’m fine,” she said, then looked down at herself again, and this time Blake noticed a look of insecurity plaguing her face. Which was the opposite of what he was going for. It had been a long time since he and Carrie really hung out, but he still knew her. Knew that she was never a flash girl, always looked twice in the mirror. Never figured out why, though. It was like she couldn’t see how sexy she was. Always wore oversized sweaters and slightly loose pants. She’d obviously taken a leap to wear this dress—
He didn’t know much about how women thought, but he was putting pieces together on how bad getting stood up probably felt to Carrie on a lot of levels. She hadn’t just been stiffed at the movie theater after a bad date; she’d been ditched on what was supposed to be one of the biggest days of her life.
Blake made a silent promise to kick that son of a bitch Kevin’s ass if he ever saw him again.
“Hey,” he said softly, and tipped her chin to face his face. “I just want you comfy. You look incredible,” he said, mentally telling himself not to glace down for the hundredth time to look at the creamy cleavage.
Too late.
And she seemed to realize it, too, because her lips parted, and holy shit, she was staring at his mouth.
“You two are so sweet!” the flight attendant said, handing each of them a blanket.
“Yes, we are,” Blake said, sticking with the ruse. He had thought it was a good idea. May as well enjoy any kind of perk he could give Carrie. She needed something good today, and if pretending to be a couple so she could experience first class made her a tad happier, he’d do it. Operation Give Carrie Her Fantasy had officially commenced.
When he looked at her again, she was still staring at his mouth. The woman looked starved for any kind of affection, which redoubled his hatred for Kevin. How the hell had that sorry excuse for a man treated her before this? When Blake thought of how much pain she’d been in before Kevin had abandoned her… How much she’d suffered simply by being with him…
“I can tell you two are really in love,” the flight attendant said, and Blake swallowed back a lump in his throat. Love? No, not him. Not ever. But whatever look he gave made Carrie snap out of her trance and appear almost sad. Which made him feel like shit. “We’re in something,” he admitted. Truth. Because they had been friends for so long, and he had a love for her in that way. That was it.
“I hope you like your new seats,” the stewardess said. “But we’re getting ready to take off, so just make sure you keep your belts fastened.”
Carrie looked at him with those wide dark eyes as the cabin quieted and dimmed, preparing for takeoff.
“What on earth are you doing?” she whispered harshly.
“I’m helping you get your fantasy. You’re welcome.”
“But we fibbed to get into first class.”
“Didn’t you say once that you always wanted to fly first class?” he offered.
“I was thirteen,” she snapped. “And I’d just seen that movie where the woman goes to France in that fancy first-class seat.”
“Again, you’re welcome,” Blake said. He remembered that summer when he’d come home from college with Lane. Carrie hadn’t been able to stop talking about all the romantic comedies she’d watched over the summer.
“This is a hostile takeover,” she said stubbornly. “This is my fantasy, and you’re just…”
“Helping? Keeping you safe? Making sure you live your adventure properly while also making sure you don’t get taken advantage of?”
She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. But he needed her to uncross her arms, because Jesus, her breasts wouldn’t stop taunting him.
“If you really feel that way, then do you want to negotiate terms?”
“I’m not your hostage,” she said.
“No, you’re not. But you’re kind of a pain in the ass, so I’m just trying to figure out what you want and how to help.”
There was softness in her eyes for a moment. He knew this was hard on her. He also knew she responded with sass and fire when she felt weak. The sass and fire he could handle, but he’d be damned if he let her feel weak.
“I just want my fantasy. Which means everything I thought this trip could be and should be needs to come true.”
“So I just need to read your mind. Sounds simple enough.”
“I’m glad you can’t read my mind!” she snapped. “This is bad enough without you seeing everything in my head. ‘Oh, Carrie, I didn’t know you dreamed of getting on an airplane with your new husband and joining the mile-high club—’”
She’d stopped herself, but not in time. Blake tried to wipe his grin away, but he couldn’t help but laugh.
“Mile-high club? I’ll say it again. You’re the complete opposite of predictable.”
She frowned and shook her head. “I didn’t want you to come,” she said honestly.
“I didn’t want to come, either. But I’m
going to see this through and keep you—”
“Safe. Yeah, I know. I’m just another responsibility.”
Why did she say that like a bad thing?
She huffed and glanced around. “I suppose this is a nice upgrade.” She looked him over and Blake saw that stubbornness of hers gearing up, but then came a genuine smile.
“I hope you do that more this week,” he said.
“Do what?” she asked.
He touched her chin, quickly but gently. “Smile.” When a small stain of pink hit her cheeks, he added, “You’re beautiful, Carrie. I’ll do my best to make the fantasy you want happen this week.”
“Why?” she asked.
Because I care about you.
Because I promised Lane I’d take care of you.
Because my ribs hurt thinking of you sad.
Because you used to run around with a curtain on your head when you were ten, telling everyone you were going to get married and have a family someday and make your grandma’s homemade hot fudge for Christmases just like she did.
And because deep down, that asshole Kevin broke your heart and maybe even a few of your dreams.
Instead, he went with another form of the truth. “Because you’re my responsibility.”
She glanced down at her hands and nodded. “A responsibility you think is pretty?” she asked softly.
The lights blinked, the airplane started slowly moving away from the gate, and her breath stopped. She was nervous. Little goose bumps pricked over her flesh.
He grabbed the blanket he’d stuffed under the seat and covered her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, watching her breathing increase.
She didn’t say anything. Just closed her eyes hard, then opened them again.
She tugged his hand, bringing him close. Nice thing about first class was the big chairs and privacy between them and everyone else. And with the lights dark as well as the sky, the overnight flight to Hawaii would be mostly quiet.
