by Melody Grace
Oh. My. God.
Kill me now.
Daniel tries not to laugh. “Do you need a hand?” he reaches to help me, but I quickly scramble to right myself, sliding over and sitting in the window seat.
“I’m fine!” My cheeks burn. I buckle myself in and pray there’s nothing else for me to trip on, bump into, or otherwise humiliate myself over now.
“Lucky we made it, huh?” Daniel lifts his own bag up into the overhead locker, his shirt riding up all over again. “I was sure I’d miss the flight.”
Don’t look, don’t look, don’t—
Oh, who am I kidding? I sneak a glance, relishing the pale golden band of skin on display, and the trail of caramel hair leading lower …
Daniel turns back to me and slides into the seat, his whole right side of his body pressing up against me in a sudden rush of heat. “I, umm …” he gestures between us, and I quickly lean away while he fishes out his belt, his hand accidentally grazing my hip. He snatches it away like he’s been burned, but I feel his touch spiral through me in a shock of electricity.
“So …” Daniel swallows. “Do you know how long this flight is?”
“About four hours,” I reply, and the thought of spending the next four hours pressed up against him makes me feel sick and giddy all at the same time.
“I guess we’ve got plenty of time to catch up.” Daniel grins at me, that devastating smile that always reduced me to putty. A flush spreads through my body, pure golden heat, and I manage a vague murmur in response.
Dear Lord. This is going to be the best, and worst flight of my entire life, all rolled into one.
Daniel
Lacey James.
That name hasn’t crossed my mind in months, and now I can’t get away from her. First that awkward encounter in the departures hall that sent me reeling, and now here she is: her lush curves crammed just inches away from me, the side of her body pressed up against mine, spelling pure torture for the next four hours.
“Do you have enough space?” she asks, looking uncomfortable to be stuck in such close quarters. “Sorry, these seats are so small.”
“I’m fine.” I lie.
I grip my phone, pretending to scan through my emails as the final passengers take their seats and the crew prepares to depart. Lacey starts flipping through a magazine, so I casually sneak a glance over, drinking in the sight of her. Skin-tight dark jeans painted on her generous hips; a simple red T-shirt fitted way too tight for comfort. Her hair is longer than when I saw it last, and darker now too, falling with reddish tint over a heart-shaped face and those laughing blue eyes—
Lacey looks up suddenly, and I snap my eyes away, acting like I’m reading the most important email in the world. But when I stare at my phone, all I see is the way she looked when I bumped into her for the first time: breathless from running, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright.
The sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.
And now we’re practically sharing breathing space for the rest of the flight, with no way to ignore the lust suddenly pulling at my body. Fuck! I clench the armrest to keep from letting out a groan of frustration.
The engines power up, and we head down the runway. I usually love this part, take-off, when the world suddenly falls away and just like that, I’m airborne, but today, I can only focus on one question, running around and around in my mind.
When did she get so damn hot?
That’s not exactly true … A little voice reminds me, and I have to admit, it’s right. Lacey’s always been hot: a five-foot five whirlwind of crazy adventures and bad decisions. I never understood why she and Juliet were so close. Juliet was the model of sensible control, always with a careful plan and a backup answer, but her roommate burned through life—and boyfriends—like she never once thought of looking before she leapt. More than once, I’d drop by their apartment to find Lacey in the middle of some dramatic break-up or morning-after crisis, the latest object of her affection slinking downstairs with a sheepish expression—and a smile that made it clear whatever the drama now, it had all been worth it.
But as much as I knew Lacey was cute on a theoretical level, like all the case-law examples I drilled for law school, it never sank in for real. I was in love with Juliet, and that was more than enough for me. I had our lives planned out, we both did. Marriage, moving up to be near my folks, a good job with a big law firm … In five years, I knew exactly where I’d be: in a house in the suburbs like the one I grew up in, on the partner track, with Juliet at my side and maybe even a kid on the way. Simple.
Until everything went to hell, and it turned I’d never had Juliet’s heart at all, because she’d already given it to someone else.
“I’m sorry,” Lacey speaks up suddenly, when we’ve hit cruising altitude and everything is calm. “About bringing up the wedding, before. I know it’s probably the last thing you want to think about … And, I’ve done it all over again.” She looks mortified. “I’m shutting up now,” she adds, “I promise, I won’t say another word for the rest of the flight. Unless I need to get up to use the bathroom,” she keeps babbling, as if she can’t stop. “But then, I guess I can just use sign language or something …”
“It’s OK,” I laugh, taking pity on her. “Really, it’s cool. I mean, is it weird that she’s marrying someone else now? Yes. But, I wish them the best. I hope she’s happy.”
Lacey blinks, her blue eyes wide. “Really? Because if I were in your shoes, I’d be at home making voodoo dolls and like, cursing them to an eternity of impotence and explosive diarrhea.”
I laugh. “Remind me to never break your heart,” I joke.
Lacey looks away. “You wouldn’t,” she answers in a small voice. “That’s the point. You’re a good guy.”
“Too good,” I note ruefully.
“What do you mean?” Lacey frowns.
“Oh, nothing,” I sigh. “It’s just … I was always so good to her, you know?” I can’t believe I’m admitting this to her, but there’s something about the warmth in her expression. I can’t help it. “I did everything right,” I explain, “Everything I was supposed to. I tried to treat her like a queen. And then she goes and picks the asshole in the leather jacket.”
“He’s not an asshole,” Lacey objects. I raise my eyebrows. “OK, so he can be kind of … prickly,” she agrees diplomatically. “But, he really does love her.”
“It’s OK,” I tell her gently. “I know she’s your best friend, you have to be on her side.”
She gives a little shrug. “I’m sorry she hurt you, I really am.”
I pause, surprised. “Thank you,” I reply slowly. “I won’t lie, it sucked, but, if it wasn’t meant to be …” I shrug. “I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with me.”
Lacey looks at me, her face thoughtful. “So what do you want?” she asks.
“You mean, in a woman?” I reply, thinking of that dream life I always planned for. “I guess … a girl to come home to every night, someone who’ll be a good wife, a great mother. Someone sweet, and kind, and loyal.”
A good girl, I add silently. Who’ll never break my heart.
Lacey goes silent. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” she says finally. Her voice is quiet. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your reading.”
She plugs headphones into her phone, and then fixes them in her ears, turning her face away from me. I blink at her sudden change of mood. Well, OK then.
I go back to my law briefs, but I can’t help sneaking another sidelong glance at her; her gaze fixed on her magazine. I wonder if I said something wrong, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what.
I sigh. Add ‘easy to read’ to my dream woman. Girls like Lacey are a mystery to me, so for the next few hours, I bury myself in legal research and mind-numbing case files, until I feel a slight nudge.
Lacey clears her throat. “Can I …?” She gestures to get out of her seat.
“Oh, sure.” I get up, standing aside in
the aisle to let her through.
“Thanks.” She brushes past me, her whole body sliding against mine as she maneuvers out of the seat.
I inhale in a rush, my body tightening. She heads down the cabin towards the bathrooms, and I can’t help watching her go: the smooth sway of her hips in those jeans, fitting tighter than they have any right to be.
What I wouldn’t give to get her out of them …
I startle at the thought, sitting back down in my seat with a jolt.
No.
No way.
Lacey is trouble—even if she wasn’t friends with Juliet, she’s practically the opposite of what I need in my life right now: someone sweet, stable, reliable. Lacey is none of those things. Hell, she couldn’t be further from it if she tried. And I know she thinks I’m some boring, by-the-book kind of guy, she only tolerated for Juliet’s sake.
I reassure myself listing all the reasons why lusting after Lacey James is a bad, bad idea, until I feel another tap on my shoulder, and there she is, standing by me, waiting patiently to get back to her seat.
I bolt up. “Sorry,” I say quickly, stepping into the aisle.
Suddenly, the plane lurches wildly. Lacey yelps, stumbling against me. I grab her, gripping onto the seat back for stability as the plane dips again, a stomach-dropping jolt that sends Lacey even harder into my arms. The lights flicker, and there are cries of panic in the cabin as the overhead compartment flies open, raining bags down into the aisle. I draw Lacey close to shield her, and she buries her face against my chest, wrapping her arms tight around me as we lurch again. Time stands still, my heart in my throat, until finally the turbulence is over, and the flight evens out.
I catch my breath, smelling a light drift of coconut and fruit from Lacey’s shampoo. I feel light-headed, and although I tell myself it’s from the near-death experience we just had here, I know that’s a lie.
It’s her. All her. The body pressed up against me, every curve driving me crazy, making me wish I could touch her, everywhere. Right now.
The overhead announcement clicks on. “Apologies for the bumpy ride, we’ve hit a little weather.”
“You don’t say,” Lacey says, pale-faced. She’s still holding me tight, breathing heavily. I glance down, catching sight of the rise and fall of her chest, swelling against her T-shirt, and is that …? Yup. A hint of red lace underneath.
I grip the seat-back harder, dizzy.
“We’re looking at snow-storms out of Atlanta, so we’ve been advised to divert for a landing. Looks like you’ll be grounded a while. Nothing’s getting through this blizzard.”
The pilot clicks off, and there’s a babble of voices in the cabin: frustration and anger as people realize they might not make it home in time for Christmas. I’m still holding Lacey, so I slowly release her, surprised to feel a pull of disappointment as she steps back, out of my arms.
“I can’t believe this,” Lacey cries.
I snap back to reality. “It’s just a storm, it’ll pass.”
“No!” She blinks at me, wide-eyed. “I did this! I said I’d make it snow for her, and now there’s a freaking blizzard! I’ll never make it to Beachwood Bay in time. Juliet is going to kill me.” She sinks back into her seat with a sigh.
I should be angry too. After all, I’m going to be grounded. I won’t get back to see my folks for the tree lighting, and the carol services on Christmas Eve; I’ll be stuck in the middle of nowhere, bedding down in an airport hotel. But instead of being annoyed, all I can think is, now I get a few more hours with her.
A few more hours with this whirlwind of a girl who somehow, sets every nerve in my body on fire, and makes me imagine things I have no business imagining.
God help me, but as we set for our descent, I’m feeling more cheerful than I have in weeks.
Lacey
“Come on, come on …” I tap my foot impatiently, an anxious eye on the line ahead of me at the last car rental desk in the terminal. I’ve already tried the other two companies here, and they’re both already sold out. This is my last hope, and even though the fee will push my overdraft way past breaking point, it’s my only option if I’m going to make it to Beachwood Bay in time for the wedding tomorrow. “Take the keys, say ‘thank you’, then move along, honey.”
“What’s that?” Daniel asks. He insisted on keeping me company in line, so now I have two things to worry about: my snow-bound travel plans, and the fact I can’t even look at him without remembering the way his arms felt wrapped around me. Strong. Secure. And sexy as hell.
“Nothing,” I quickly catch my breath, hoping my cheeks aren’t flushed at the memory. “You think it’ll take me long to drive?”
Daniel whips out his phone and taps to check. “Four, five hours,” he replies with a frown. “But you really shouldn’t be driving, not in this blizzard.” He glances outside the airport, to where a flurry of white flakes are falling fast, coating the sidewalk in a dusting of snow. It’s late afternoon, and getting dark already, the clouds overhead showing no sign of a break.
“I can’t wait,” I insist, inching forward as the line moves along. Or maybe that’s just my wishful thinking. “Tonight is the bachelorette party, and then they need me to set everything up tomorrow. Oh God, Juliet’s going to kill me.” I whimper.
Daniel smiles. “No she won’t. Juliet’s not the maiming kind.”
“Exactly!” I exclaim, morose. “She’ll kill me with sad understanding. I’ll die from the guilt.”
“It’ll be fine,” Daniel reassures me, reaching over to rub my shoulder sympathetically. “You’ll make it in time, don’t worry.”
I catch my breath at his touch, feeling it shiver through me, everywhere. I must have flinched, because Daniel suddenly drops his hand and steps back, looking bashful.
Damn, there you go, making this awkward again.
I stifle a sigh. Since the moment I ran headlong into Daniel in LAX, I’ve done nothing but screw up. First, the constant reminder that the love of his life is marrying someone else, then my awkward clumsiness and babbling. Hell, when we hit turbulence, I practically cut off his circulation clinging on for dear life. And although he was too much of a gentleman to say, I can tell I made him way too uncomfortable getting so close.
Admit it, girl. You liked holding on.
Fine. I did. I loved every terrifying second of it: safe in his arms, his muscles hard against my body. It made me wonder just what kind of physique the man’s been hiding under those preppy Oxford shirts and neat suits all these years …
Not that you’ll ever find out.
The thought is like a cold shower: dousing my lustful thoughts with a freezing doze of reality. Daniel couldn’t be less interested in me if he tried: that dream girl list he spelled out on the plane made it crystal clear. A good wife, a mother … I’d sunk lower in the tiny seat as he went on and on about his ideal match, and all the while, it felt like every word was a personal insult:
You’re not right for him. You never will be.
“You really don’t have to stay,” I tell him, hugging my arms around myself. My T-shirt and thin jacket are no match for the freezing temperatures inside the tiny terminal. Our bags are still all checked, and my carryon was too full of bridal stuff to fit an extra sweater. “I can figure it out.”
Daniel doesn’t move. “I’ve got time,” he gives me a wry smile. “It’s not like I’ve got anyplace else to be.”
“I know, but …” I trail off, trying to think of an excuse to have him leave that doesn’t involve the fact he’s too damn gorgeous standing there beside me. Luckily, I’m interrupted by a commotion in the line ahead.
I look up, and realize from the scowls and scattering crowd that there’s nothing lucky about it.
“What’s going on?” I ask, with a sinking heart, but people are heading away from the booth. I push my way forwards to the front, where a bored-looking guy is putting out a sign.
‘No rentals available.’
No freaking way.
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“Hi!” I paste on my brightest smile and try and hide the note of despair in my voice. “I need a car.”
He doesn’t reply, just points at the sign.
“Yes, I know it says there’s nothing, but surely you can help me?” I bat my eyelashes at him. “Like, a beat-up old car with no AC and stick-shift. Anything, I swear I’m not picky.”
“All our vehicles are out.” He sighs. “Try us again in the morning.”
“Tomorrow is too late!” I protest.
“I’m sorry,” he sounds anything but. “Can’t help you.”
“But …” My protest dies on my lips as I realize just how screwed I am. It’s already late, and flights won’t go out until the morning— at the earliest. If there are no cars, I can’t get to Beachwood Bay. Never mind the bachelorette, if I don’t get there by tomorrow, there’ll be nobody to set up, organize the decorations, deal with the food, keep Juliet from losing her mind …
“Oh god,” I whimper, turning to Daniel in horror. “I’ve ruined the wedding. All that planning, everything. It’s going to suck, and it’s all my fault!”
“Shh, it’ll be OK,” Daniel strides forwards to the counter. “Are you sure there’s nothing we can do?”
The guy rolls his eyes. “I can’t magic a car out of nowhere,” he snaps, sarcastic, and I feel Daniel tense. But he takes a deep breath, and when he speaks again, his voice is warm and friendly.
“Hey man, I get it. Not your fault.” Daniel leans in, conspiratorial. “But the problem is, we’re kind of in a bind here. Say, what would you do, if you were in our situation?”
The guy pauses, then gives a reluctant shrug. “I don’t know. Get a room at the hotel, I guess. You can leave your number with me, and I’ll have someone call if anything gets returned. Maybe someone will drop a car back early, tonight.”
“Yes!” I cry, leaping forwards, “Thank you, thank you!” I quickly scribble my details down, and push it across the counter to him. “Call the minute something comes in,” I beg, “And I’ll love you forever.”
