by L. D. Davis
Kristy had been a long-winded, quick-tongued speaker since the day I first met her. Most of the time, I listened as much as I could. But sometimes, I would honestly just zone out because she tended to throw a lot of unnecessary details into the mix. This time I wasn’t brain dead after listening to her speak, but I was appalled that she went to their hotel room alone, and further appalled that Alden Breck couldn’t just leave well enough alone. Before I could open my mouth to bitch about it, Trent laid on the horn from the Acura and I had to shut up and go.
At the airport security line, Kristy hugged me fiercely and cried about how much she was going to miss me. Her tears were both moving and irritating. I never had a doubt about how much my friend loved me, but I hated tears. Hated, hated, hated. Finally ready to end it, I pulled away, muttered something about not missing my flight, and started to walk away.
“I put your souvenirs from last night in your suitcase,” Kristy called to me as I got into line.
I gave her a look of disgust. She winked, blew me a kiss, gave a little wave, and trotted over to Trent. He gave me a wave and then they were gone.
My ribs hurt, and carrying my carry-on bag wasn’t helping. Nor was it easy with two badly bruised fingers. I stopped at a store and got a bottle of water so that I could swallow a few ibuprofen pills for the pain. The doctor prescribed some stronger drugs, but I didn’t want to be drooling on my boobs when the last boarding call came for my flight. I carefully sat down in a chair in a corner, trying to stay as far away from other people as possible. I didn’t feel like chitchat or overhearing conversations. My head was hurting, too, and I would have screamed if someone got all chatty with me. I put my bag on the chair next to me, tilted my head back, and closed my eyes. I don’t know how long I was like that, as unattractive as it was, before my phone vibrated in my pocket.
I cursed at the pain it caused my fingers to pull it out of my pocket and looked at the screen.
Your head hurts, Alden said.
I squinted at the screen in confusion. How the hell did he know my head hurt? Probably just a general statement. Obviously my head hurt. I had a damn shoeprint on it last night for heaven’s sake. I frowned, poising to respond with distaste in hopes of chasing him off, but then he sent another message.
You shouldn’t keep your phone in your jeans if it hurts your ribs and fingers to take it out.
Oh. My. God. I dared not look up. Alden was somewhere nearby, stalking me. Oh my god, he was a real actual stalker. None of his fans probably knew he was a psychopath.
Stalking again, are we? I frowned as I sent the message. I still didn’t look up. I looked to my right and looked at planes moving about on the tarmac, but I didn’t look into the crowds of people.
Not stalking. Just passing through to the VIP lounge to wait for my flight. Why don’t you join me? You will be able to relax much easier there.
Oh, come on! He wanted me to believe that he was only passing through? That he just happened to be in the same terminal as me? Puh-lease!
Thank you, but no thank you. Now if you don’t mind, I am trying to rest my weary head. Goodbye.
I slipped the phone into the front pocket of my bag instead of my jeans and tilted my head back again. I felt exposed and watched, and it made me feel a little anxious, but I refused to open my eyes and look for him. Besides, he was probably incognito. There was no way Alden Breck would have just been able to prance through the airport unseen and unbothered. I tried to put him out of my mind, took a deep, slightly painful breath, and tried to relax. Moments later, I sensed my bag being picked up out of the chair beside me. My eyes snapped first to the chair and then up the legs and torso of the person holding the bag.
Incognito to a point – his hazel eyes burned into mine through a pair of black rimmed glasses, but a hat and the hood of a hoodie covered his sandy blond hair and partially obscured his face. He also had a little bit of hair growth on his face – did he spontaneously grow hair in a few hours like that?
“Come on, Little Noa,” he said, offering me his hand. “I can’t have you sitting here all uncomfortable.”
“I’m fine,” I snapped, ignoring his hand. “So, you can put my bag down and be on your way.”
“Oh, no, sweetheart,” he said, and his mouth pressed into a grim line. “It’s my fault you’re hurt, remember? So, let me help you out. Come on, I’m not going to bite you – unless you’re into that kind of thing.”
I looked at his hand with skepticism. “If I come with you, it means nothing. I still hate you.”
I didn’t even know why I was considering it. I really had a strong dislike for this guy, but I’m not ordinarily a nasty person and he was trying to make up for his idiocy from the night before.
“Fine,” he shrugged and waved me on with his extended hand.
I ignored his hand and stood up on my own. It hurt, but I bit it back. “I don’t need to hold your hand, Alden.”
“Hey”—he smiled—“you called me Alden. You actually said my name. We’re finally getting somewhere.”
He took my hand anyway and led me away.
Once we were inside the lounge, I snatched my hand from his. He walked over to a pair of chairs in the far corner, put my bag down on the floor in front of an incredibly comfortable-looking leather armchair, and gestured for me to sit.
“Drink?” he asked, gesturing toward a bar on the far wall.
I shook my head, feeling a little culture shock at the difference between the common waiting areas and the VIP lounge.
Alden walked over to the bar and I chastised myself when I realized I had watched the way he moved. He had a bad-boy air about him, even in his walk. I hadn’t dealt with bad boys since my high school, and all that did was get me into trouble.
“I know you said you didn’t want anything, but I brought you something anyway,” Alden said, handing me a glass of light amber liquid.
I frowned down at the glass and then at Alden as he sat down in the chair next to mine. “I can’t drink anything with alcohol. I am going to take Vicodin as soon as I get on the plane.”
“It’s just ginger ale, Little Noa,” he said, shifting in his seat to hang one leg over the chair.
I refused to recognize his taught muscles pressing against his tight dark blue tee.
“Thank you,” I murmured and took a sip before putting it on the table between Alden’s chair and mine.
“Relax, Little Noa,” he smiled warmly. But even under the warmth, I could see the bad boy lurking.
“I can’t relax while you’re staring at me,” I snapped.
“Fine. I’ll read a book to pass the time. Then I won’t be staring at you.” He reached into his own bag and pulled out a book. My book. A book that I wrote. It was a contemporary romance novel, so I didn’t understand why he had it.
Damn that Kristy, I thought as I glared at Alden, who was watching me over the rim of the book.
“Where did you get that?” I asked tightly.
“Bookstore,” he said and nodded back toward the door. “Out there. If you don’t mind, Little One, I’m trying to read here. Gosh.” He let out a phony sound of exasperation and shook his head.
Fuming, I crossed my arms and slid down in my seat until I was comfortable and not hurting my ribs. I rested my head on the back of the chair and closed my eyes. I refused to acknowledge the presence of that asshole.
As I tried to concentrate on taking a little nap, I wondered just how much Kristy had told Alden about me. Okay, so she had told him I was an author, but what else? Did she tell him where I lived? The state, the city? The damn address? Did he know I was just out of a terrible relationship with Larson, a ‘safe’ boy with a temper? Did he know that my mother was dead and my father may as well have been a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow – nonexistent? What did he know? Kristy was not known for spewing out secrets, but when she was standing in front of her most favorite celebrity on the face of the earth, who the hell knows what she could have said to him.
I
didn’t remember falling asleep. I only remembered being lightly shaken awake and opening my eyes, finding hazel eyes once again burning into mine.
“Hey, Little One, we’re up.”
“We?” I asked, sleepy and confused.
“Our flight.” He grinned. “We’re on the same flight.”
Oh brother!
“Why are you flying to Philly?” I asked, slowly pushing myself up out of the chair.
“Believe it or not, I actually have work to do there over the next couple of weeks,” he said, picking up my bag with his. He took my hand again, much to my chagrin. I tried to pull away, but he held on to me.
“What kind of work?” I asked with doubt.
“A couple of local news interviews and an interview on a radio show, a big party, and a few other things.”
Of course, there’s a big party, I thought wryly.
“Which radio show?”
He looked down at me, seemingly happy that I was conversing with him. “Preston and Steve? Ever listen to them?”
“My favorite morning show,” I answered.
“Cool. I’ll give you a shout out.”
“No, no,” I said, shaking my head. “Don’t do that. Hey,” I said as we approached the gate, “they’re loading first class before little coach people like me, so…thanks for the VIP seating, but here is where we split ways.” I started to pull away from him, but he held fast to me.
He looked down at me with a glimmer in his eyes. “While you were sleeping, I upgraded your ticket. Flying in coach could be very uncomfortable with your injuries,” Alden said.
“What?” I stared up at him. “You had no right to do that.”
“Just taking care of you since it was my fault,” he said, eyeing me with a smile, but his eyes looked pretty damn serious. Was it guilt I saw there?
“You don’t have to take care of me,” I snapped. “I can take care of myself.”
“That may be, but I got you this time, Little Noa, so simmer down before the nice security guards think there’s a problem over here.”
I pushed my anger back some when I realized the security guards were eying us and a couple of young girls were looking our way. The last thing I needed was for Alden to be recognized and I get trampled, again. I allowed him to lead me onto the plane. I wasn’t surprised when after I had sat down in the window seat, he sat down in the seat beside me after pushing our bags into the overhead compartments.
He pulled his hoody off and handed me my bottle of pills. Obviously, he went into my bag to get them, but I didn’t fuss over it. I just sighed and held them in my hands until I could get something to drink. Alden had my book out and seemed to be reading it, but maybe it was a trick. It seemed that he was on page forty-five already, after only about an hour of reading, which meant he was about to get to a very juicy and erotic part of the book. At that point, I’d rather endure talking to him than for him to read that sex scene while I was sitting beside him. He would know it came from my head and he would be curious, and then he would try to use his prowess on me. Gosh, he may even do a pelvic thrust thing.
Before Alden could reach page fifty, where the first big sex scene began, the attendants began their preflight routine. Though he has probably flown more miles in his career than I have driven in my lifetime, he respectively put the book down in his lap and endured the demonstration.
Well. That was unexpected. Bad boy is capable of showing respect?
As the attendant continued on, I couldn’t help but to be drawn to the tattoos across Alden’s muscular arms. They were elaborate, highly detailed, actual art. One arm was a depiction of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, and on the other arm was something that I couldn’t see all of because his shirt was covering it, but I knew from pictures that it was a depiction of Atlas holding up the earth. I also knew from pictures that the art piece that climbed up the side of his neck was a fiery clef note, and there were more tattoos on his chest that I never bothered to look at whenever there was a half-naked image of him anywhere. Even if he was on television or in a magazine, I still got the impression that he was cocky, so I didn’t care to look any further. At one point on stage, he had torn off his shirt, but I purposely focused on Hash, the drummer, or James, his bassist, instead of the shirtless peacock. Now, I couldn’t stop looking at his damn arms.
“Do you have any ink?” Alden’s sudden question made my eyes snap to his.
I had been so absorbed I didn’t even notice that we were moving, picking up speed down the runway, and I had been caught staring.
“What?” I asked.
“Do you have any tattoos?” he asked slowly, like I was dimwitted.
“Yes, yes I do,” I said and looked away from him.
“Where?” he pressed.
I shifted slightly as I turned back to him. “On my chest – across my heart. It’s…it’s small.”
“Oh?” he popped one eyebrow and his eyes flickered down to my chest and back to my face. “What is it?”
“Just one word,” I said, noticing how low my voice had dropped.
“What word is it? You’re killing me here.”
“Uhh,” I said, swallowing. “It just says ‘broken.’ That’s all.”
His brow furrowed. “Broken?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “Broken.”
He frowned as he stared at me for a moment. When I looked away, I felt him look away, too, and settle back in his seat. When I looked up again, he was holding the book, but his eyes were unfocused. He wasn’t really reading, but he seemed to be deep in thought.
As soon as the attendants were able to start serving drinks, I got some water and gratefully popped a Vicodin. I was so sore and my head was starting to pound. I wondered if the doctors were wrong about me not having any brain damage, because my head hurt like a bitch. And I was in the company of Alden Breck. With or without trampling tramps, that alone indicated some kind of brain damage.
I covered myself with the small complimentary blanket and reclined my seat as far as I could as I tried to get comfortable. I was secretly thankful that Alden had upgraded my seat. He was right - it would have been very difficult to get comfortable in coach. I closed my eyes, and seconds later, startled when I felt something on me. Alden had put his sweatshirt over me as a makeshift second blanket. I was sure there were extras available had he asked, but I liked the smell of his sweatshirt. My god did I like it. It smelled like expensive cologne, but it also smelled like…I don’t know. Like Alden.
Shit!
This wasn’t good. I couldn’t take my eyes off his tats and then I was surreptitiously inhaling the scent of his sweatshirt. I hated this guy, so what the hell was my problem?
“So…” he started, but looked unsure of his next words. “So, who broke you?”
“That’s a highly personal question,” I admonished.
“Yeah,” he agreed and rubbed his strong jaw. “Yeah, I guess it is. Sorry, Little One.”
“Can you just call me Noa?” I asked, scowling slightly. “Just Noa. No Little Noa or Little One or darling or sweetheart. Just Noa.”
He flashed me a sexy grin.
Ugh. Now his grin is sexy?
“Sure, Just Noa,” he said and then resumed looking at the book.
I closed my eyes again, praying to fall asleep quickly.
“But if you’re going to have a statement tattooed across your heart for anyone to see,” Alden started, making me roll my eyes under the lids before I opened them again to look at him, “then you should be able to explain who broke you.”
“I don’t have to explain jack to anyone about something written on my body,” I snapped. “And it’s not for anyone to see. Do you see it now?”
“No, but…”
“And you won’t see it, either. Ever.”
“Ever?” he raised his pierced right eyebrow.
“Ever,” I said firmly. “I thought you upgraded me so that I can be comfortable. How can I be comfortable if you keep talking while I’m trying to allow
a drug induced coma to overtake me?”
“I apologize, Just Noa,” he said with an easy smile and turned back to my book.
If I could have stabbed his gorgeous eyes with a sharp object, I would have.
Sometime later, I woke up and looked over at Alden. He was deep into the book, reading and unaware that I was watching him. That meant that he got through at least three big sex scenes. I was a little embarrassed, but not as much as I would have been had he been reading them while I was awake. I pulled the sweatshirt off me, alerting Alden that I was awake, and carefully got up to go use the facilities. As I stepped over his long legs, he put his hand on my hips to steady me. I pretended it wasn’t a big deal and continued on my way. On my way back, just as I started to scoot past Alden again, the plane hit an unexpected pocket of turbulence and I found myself tripping over his legs, and then falling backward onto his lap. The seatbelt sign flashed on, the pilot spoke in the speakers about it being a little bumpy for a little while, and a flight attendant asked me to please take my seat and buckle up.
She didn’t have to ask me twice, but when I went to move, Alden held me down with his hands on my thighs. I could feel his breath on a sensitive area of my neck and despite my dislike for the man, it was driving me a little batty.
“You do realize that your arms do not count as a seatbelt?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“Just want to make sure you aren’t hurt, Little Noa,” he purred in my ear.
Dear god, is that what I think it is poking me in the ass? Is that real? How did it grow to be so damn big?
I pushed his hands off me and quickly moved to my seat, ducking my head to put on my seatbelt and also to hide my red face.
With a satisfied smirk, Alden gave me a once over and resumed reading my book. I very carefully pulled my iPod out of my pocket, plugged the ear buds into my ears, and turned up the music. I hated turbulence, and I was sad that I wasn’t still knocked out. The best thing I could do was to listen to my music and pretend that the plane didn’t feel like it was going to tear apart in the sky.
Amazingly, I fell asleep again. When I woke up, my head didn’t hurt anymore and the pain in my ribs was tolerable. I sat up and blinked at Alden. He was staring straight ahead, but his eyes were pinched with discomfort and his leg bounced up and down as if he were nervous.
