Landing the Air Marshal (Snowpocalypse)

by Jennifer Blackwood

  But he knew one thing—anxiety wasn’t something to fuck with. In his experience, it was best managed with some good old exercise and distraction. Nothing that the chilly winter air, some fruit, and a little alcohol couldn’t fix. Or at least, that was what he’d hoped.

  He ignored the tiny voice inside his head screaming what the hell are you doing, dickhead? Yes, this was shit that people pulled in flicks his sister watched. Maybe it was safer to do it with someone like Abby because there was no fear of screwing up. Because even if tonight went south, he’d be leaving tomorrow anyway. No harm, no foul. A practice run for when he did find time to date once he was back in Charleston.

  It had been a long time since he’d even tried with someone. This was the most effort he’d put in since Vanessa. He didn’t know if he still had it in him to be boyfriend material when the time came. A selfish part was happy that he’d at least get a little practice in tonight—even if just for a few hours. Selfish. He was so damn selfish.

  When he walked back into the living room, she looked at him curiously, her cheeks hollowed. It brought him back to the bathtub, watching her suck him off like she was finding out how many licks it took to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop. With her mouth, didn’t take much.

  “What are we doing?” she asked.

  “We’re going to have a picnic.”

  “A picnic,” she repeated, her voice incredulous. “You realize it’s twenty degrees outside and there are feet of snow, right? Have you lost your mind?”

  “Is Miss Hollywood afraid of a little snow?” he mused, regarding her as she stood in front of him, her small, delicate hand in his.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “When seventy degrees warrants a sweatshirt and boots, yes.”

  “I promise, you won’t be cold.”

  “Really.” She shot him a look—her uptight librarian look, which was probably meant to be intimidating, but really, all that arched brow did was raise Gage’s dick to attention.

  Thank God his flight got cancelled, because one night was clearly not enough time to get her out of his system.

  “Scouts honor.” He held up three fingers.

  “Fine. But if I get frostbite, there’ll be hell to pay.”

  He raised a brow. “I can think of places to keep your hands so that doesn’t become a problem.”

  She scoffed. “Snuggling up to someone who’s forcing me into arctic conditions doesn’t exactly inspire romance.”

  “I didn’t say anything about romance, just to keep your hands warm.” His head dipped down and his lips brushed against the curve of her ear. “Although, I can think of plenty of ways to keep you warm that involve other parts of my body.”

  With that, a flush worked its way up her neck to pink her already rosy cheeks. He loved seeing her worked up. Loved that he could get away with saying these comments and didn’t get a slap in the face.

  A few minutes later, room service knocked on the door, and Gage handed the kid money and told him to keep the change. “Get your coat on, sweetheart. We’re going to see New York.”

  With the bag of food and champagne, they made their way to the elevator and down to the main floor. The doors breezed open, and a gust of cold air brushed over them as they exited the building.

  Gage instinctively put his arm around Abby, trying to shield her from the brunt of the cold weather while clutching the bag and bottle in his other hand. She leaned into him and slipped her hand under his coat, and ice-cold fingers brushed against his back. He didn’t flinch as her fingers defrosted against his skin, but shit, they’d been outside for two seconds, and she was already turning into a Popsicle. California had clearly messed with her temperature regulation.

  Growing up in Charleston, they had their fair share of warm weather all year round, but he’d always loved the cold weather. Every winter, he’d visit his grandparents in Philadelphia, make snow forts, wage epic snowball fights on the neighborhood kids…he’d be out there all damn day. Something told Gage that Abby wouldn’t last two hours before she crystalized.

  They made their way toward Central Park, and a horse and carriage sat waiting at the curb, the driver looking bored. It gave Gage an idea. Originally, he thought he wanted to sit on a bench in Central Park, eat the food and gaze at the stars on this clear night, but this was a much better idea, especially since Abby’s California blood wasn’t fairing as well as he’d hoped.

  They hopped into the carriage and folded the blankets over their laps. Gage told the driver to make a few loops around the park.

  “Oh, that’s much better.” She sighed and snuggled into the blanket, nestling into his chest. He put his arm around her, and for a moment let himself believe this was an actual date. It had been a long time since he’d been on one—years. Did people go on dates anymore? No matter the label, this was much better than the matchmaking his mom did, sending him to dinner with yet another debutante or whatever the hell they were.

  Last time he went on one was a few years out of high school, when he took Vanessa on a fancy dinner cruise. She stuck her nose up at everything they served and ended their evening quickly with a bad case of seasickness. A fucking disaster. He’d planned the dinner for a whole month, planned to propose that night while the string quartet played in the background. So he had a romantic side, sue him. He bet Abby would love something romantic like that. Abby in his arms felt a million times more right than anything he’d experienced in the past. Which he should stop thinking about because this was a one-night stand turned into a two-nighter. Something he apparently needed to keep reminding himself of, because their time was limited, and he would not let himself get hung up on this woman.

  He pulled her hat lower on her ears. She was so damn cute and hot at the same time, a combination that blasted lust like oxygen through his body. The city lights against the snow created a homey feeling that gave Gage a pang in his chest. Damn, he missed Charleston. He missed little Emily in his lap as he read stories and had tickle fights. He was still kicking himself for missing both of her front teeth coming out. They’d been working on those suckers for weeks. He didn’t even get to ask her if she’d used the string-on-the-door-handle trick.

  He missed the cooler weather this time of year, and the way his family packed together in his mom’s small estate. They’d sip sweet tea and sit on the porch swing, people watching.

  Dammit, he’d turned into a mopey fucker. He had plenty more memories to make once he got back home.

  He’d have more time for everything one day, when life wasn’t so crazy. There’d be someone like Abby down in South Carolina. A woman that would fill him with the same insatiable hunger. There just had to be, because it would be cruel and unfair if this was a once in a lifetime feeling.

  “Lost in that head of yours?” she said softly, giving his leg a squeeze under the blanket.

  “Just thinking it’s been a long time since I’ve been in the snow.” He shook away thoughts of homesickness and uncorked the bottle with a pop, letting the excess foam spill out on the snow outside the sleigh.

  “We can’t drink in public!” she whispered, even though there was no need, since they were the only people on the street.

  “Why not? Who’s going to stop us?” He took a swig from the bottle and gave her a bemused smile. Doubtful the woman knew how to break rules—he was the same way when it came to his job, but he’d never met someone as uptight as Abby. She probably didn’t even jaywalk. Getting her to loosen up, even a tiny bit under his touch, was the best present he’d gotten all year.

  She looked around nervously, but her shoulders fell back into their normal position when she spotted the empty road. New York held the somber silence of an eerie ghost town after the storm. “I guess no one.”

  He handed her the bottle, and she took a timid sip. One that got maybe two drops on that tongue of hers.

  “Winters. This is a bottle of Dom and you’re going to waste it because of the off chance we might see a cop on a deserted night?”

&
nbsp; She let out a sigh and looked as if she steeled her resolve. “Fine. No use in wasting a good bottle of champagne.” Putting the bottle to her lips, she took a long pull and then set the bottle between them, wiping the edge of her mouth with her thumb.

  “That’s more like it.” He smiled. There was still a drop of Dom on her bottom lip, and he took this opportunity to lean in, sucking it between his teeth. Her soft, full lips melted into his as she let out a shuddering breath and leaned into him. Her fingers traced along the curve of his jaw and moved to his hair, tugging at it as their kiss deepened. Pretty pink nails bit into the back of his neck as she slid her tongue into his mouth. She tasted of champagne and something sweet that Gage could only attribute to Abby.

  Gage growled and fought the urge to pull her onto his lap. Abby was a drug in his system, and his mind kept asking for more more more. He worried that he’d never get his fix before morning came. A smile broke out across her lips as her fingers grazed his pants under the blanket, rubbing along his throbbing shaft. Fuck it, he’d unbutton his pants and have her ride him here under the blanket if he thought she could be quiet enough. Too bad Abby was a screamer. And by “too bad,” he meant fucking awesome.

  Against his better judgment, he broke the kiss and muttered under his breath as he regarded Abby’s kiss-swollen lips pursed into a pout, her eyes still closed. When she opened them, her blue eyes burned with the same lust that coiled his insides. “We need to stop before our night gets cut short and I carry you back to the hotel to finish this.” Or before the carriage driver saw what Abby was doing under the blanket. The drivers were notorious for not putting up with any shit—and on a night like this, he didn’t want to cause him any trouble, especially with this place a ghost town.

  She frowned and a crease formed between her brows. “Won’t we finish this?”

  He nodded seriously. “Definitely.”

  She looked down at the bag and smiled. “What else do you have in your bag of goodies?” she asked.

  Food. A great distraction to momentarily tamp down the urge to slip his hands up her skirt. He pulled out the baguette and cheese, but left the strawberries. He unwrapped the cheese. “Open your mouth.”

  She opened it without question, and a thrill shot through Gage. As long as he lived, he’d never forget Abby’s gorgeous red lips. There was a lot about her that he wouldn’t forget, in fact, but he wasn’t willing to dive into those thoughts at the moment.

  …

  Abby let out a tiny moan as the tart cheese hit her tongue. Gage was surprisingly quiet, and when she opened her eyes, she was startled by the intensity of his gaze. He stared at her lips and ran his tongue along his own. The motion reminded her of last night, and how his mouth had been pressed other places. Licking, swirling, unrelenting. It all made her head spin. Who knew a tongue pressed to the space between her thighs could feel that good? If she’d known, she’d have kicked her ex to the curb sooner.

  “This is so good,” she said, lamely, to fill the silence.

  His throat worked, and he shifted in the seat. After taking another swig of Dom, he said, “So you’ve never been around snow?”

  She swallowed and swiped at her mouth again, suddenly missing Gage’s soft lips on hers. “Not if I don’t have to. The closest I come is walking from the airport to the taxicab. Other than that, I like to look at it from the safety of my window. We don’t get a lot of it in L.A.”

  “But don’t you smell that?” He took a deep breath, and his massive chest puffed out even more. “The crispness in the air. You can’t beat that.”

  “Don’t they have air conditioning where you’re from? It’s plenty crisp if you set it to sixty-five.” And, honestly, that temperature was enough to set her shaking like a Chihuahua. Cold and Abby did not mix. At all. She didn’t know how her sister put up with this crap every winter.

  “You’re missing the point. Snow makes memories. It only comes around one season a year, maybe two. You can make snowmen and snow angels, have snowball fights…”

  Did this six-three hulking man really just say snow angels?

  “You.” She pointed to him. “Are into making snow angels?” She thought back to him singing “Twinkle Twinkle” earlier with the little girl. Still not wanting to pry, she decided not to bring it up in case that was something he wanted to keep secret. But truth be told, she’d pay good money to see this beast of a man flailing his arms and legs to make patterns in the snow. Everyone she knew—besides her sister—would rather give up wine or chocolate than deal with the fluffy white stuff. But Gage somehow made it seem magical.

  There was obviously more to Gage than met the eye. And she wanted to find out more. What made him tick. Why he wanted to make stupid snow angels in weather that made her whole body seize up.

  “When the occasion arises.” He smiled. But this time, it didn’t reach his eyes. In fact, he looked a little disappointed. Like he wished he’d made more snowmen. Or maybe Abby was reading more into it than she ought to. But that was the curse of her field of work—hyperaware of everything.

  She raised a brow. “This I need to see.”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, he shot up out of his seat in the sleigh and spoke to the driver. The driver slowed to a stop and Gage paid him, murmuring something in the driver’s ear. The driver looked at him for a moment, then at Abby and then nodded back at Gage.

  “I paid enough so that we can keep the blanket.” He pulled it from her lap and wrapped it around her shoulders protectively. Abby wasn’t the type to ever need a man to take care of her, but she had to admit it felt nice being doted on for a night. Gage had a way of making her let go of things, and it was like a weight was lifted off her shoulders. She did heavy lifting with Yellow Raft every day by making hundreds of decisions hourly. It was nice to not have to worry about what to say, what to do. To just go with the flow. Even though she’d known him for less than a day, she trusted him. Maybe that was stupid. Or at the very least, a horrible sense of self-preservation. But dammit, she trusted him.

  He hopped down from the sleigh and then reached out his arms for her. She grabbed his hands and let him help her down. Snow crunched under her stilettos and she walked unevenly along the mounds below her feet. Why the hell would anyone want to live here? Yes, snow was beautiful, but the tip of her nose was losing feeling, and if she didn’t know any better, the moisture in her eyes was crystalizing. Soon, she’d be a candidate for cryogenic freezing. Luckily, she had the blanket, which was a much-needed improvement.

  “Those shoes are so impractical.” He jutted his chin toward her heels and braced her arm when she wobbled on the uneven ground.

  “I wasn’t expecting to walk through a blizzard.” She cut him a look. “Airport, cab, hotel. No farther,” she said, mildly irritated that her good high-heeled boots were now trudging through clumps of snow.

  He shook his head and laughed. “You always have a plan, don’t you?”

  Um, yep. If her plane got delayed, she was able to find different connecting flights in a matter of minutes. Unexpected delays in set accommodations? Had that planned for, too. But when it came to Gage, her mind did a big old brain fart that paralyzed all higher cognitive functioning.

  She stopped abruptly, and Gage walked another two paces before turning to her. “There’s nothing wrong with being a little prepared.”

  “Of course not.” His eyes lit with amusement. “Hell, if there is ever a zombie apocalypse, you’re the first person I’m turning to.”

  “I’m no Rick, but I have a baseball bat and a go-bag just in case shit goes down.” So maybe her go-bag was filled with gossip magazines and pore strips at the moment, but if everyone in the world decided to turn into flesh-eating monsters, she’d done enough spin classes and kick boxing, and watched enough Doomsday Preppers, to run her ass to the San Gabriel Mountains and last a few weeks.

  “You watch The Walking Dead, too? Seriously, is there anything about you that isn’t incredible?”

  “Well, for star
ters, you don’t want me anywhere near a kitchen. I burn water. And I’ve been told I hog the bed. And I overthink everything.” Another thing that her shmuck ex said when they broke up.

  “Can’t say anything about the first, but I can confirm the second.”

  “Oh God. Sorry.” Even on a California King, she managed to hog the covers. That had to be a new record.

  “As for the third—” A puff of Gage’s breath floated around his mouth in a white cloud as he exhaled deeply. His expression softened, those eyes so expressive, pulling her under. “Sometimes you just have to enjoy the moment. Life will pass you by if you’re too busy to notice it.”

  “Spend a lot of time carpe-ing some diem?”

  A frown marred his face. “Less than I should.” He said this more to himself than to Abby, but she understood.

  Oh, man. That spoke to the very depths of her soul. She’d kill for at least six more hours in each day. First, she’d go see a flick with her girlfriends. And there was that never ending pile of books she ached to read. There would be time to have something like this on a full-time basis, not just a weekend jaunt. Unfortunately, fairy-tale lives were just that—fairy tales. Growing up sucked.

  “You miss your family back home?” she said, trying to shift the focus from her. She hated feeling sorry for herself. Pity accomplished jack shit.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “I get that look when I think about my sister.” Her hand grazed his shoulder, and he leaned into her. “Who’s back at home?” She didn’t mean to pry. Okay, yes she did. She totally did. She wanted to know about the little girl, the reason he seemed to miss making snowmen so much. She had an insatiable thirst for any information about Gage.

  “My niece. Emily’s a real firecracker. She’d like you.” He smiled and gave her a once-over. “She’d like your take-no-shit attitude and California style.”