Because Beards
Page 44
A tall dude in a yuppie leather jacket and metro-styled hair stepped into view and scanned the open room as he oh-so-casually slid his ring off his left hand and slipped it into his pocket. He took off toward the bar like his hall pass expired any moment, and I let him go. I was just getting over the train wreck that was my own life. I had no desire to witness his.
I returned my attention to the table across the room to find the waitress clearing away the empty; my woman was gone. I’d only been distracted a minute; she couldn’t have gone far. I craned my neck for a quick search and located her in a gate area across the concourse—my gate area, according to the lighted sign—joined by a pair of men. She held a Styrofoam cup of coffee with both hands and sipped from the slotted lid. The younger of the two men sat beside her, attempting to capture her hand between his. She batted him away. The jerk appeared to be in his early thirties, several years older than her, tall and wiry. The man pacing the floor before her, jacking his jaw and alternating between waving his arms and jabbing his sausage finger in her face, was stocky and gray.
The woman kept her eyes lowered and mouth pressed into a firm line while the older man blustered, but when grab-hands stood over her and planted his fists on his hips as garbage spewed from his thin lips, she surged to her feet. The next instant, her coffee flew at him and soaked his starched dress shirt. I was on my feet before the command to rise hit my brain. What the everlovin’ fuck, Blake? I didn’t even know this chick.
Her chin jerked up and her gaze met mine over the several yards that separated us, but she wasn’t laughing this time. Oh, no. Girl was pissed. Her lips were flatlined, and she gave me a short shake of her head so I lowered myself back into my chair. Was she in trouble?
Within moments my woman had the situation under control, though, as she threw her handbag over her shoulder, then grabbed dickwad’s soaked sleeve in one fist and Don Julio’s shirt in the other and dragged them both down the walkway, jabbering in non-stop Spanish till they disappeared in the crowd. My grin stretched across my face. Slam dunk!
The attendant at my gate caught my attention when she announced boarding for First Class over the loudspeaker. My phone dinged again and I opened the text to read while I walked.
Deke: Shane will also be coming to the airport. The new principal is flying in from Los Angeles tomorrow, too. Isabel Fernandez. Maybe you’ll see her.
I gulped my drink, then collected my backpack and made my way in line with my eyes on my phone. Deke must be bored. And have Dixie peeking over his shoulder again. His messages were beginning to sound like a girl.
Deke: Dixie wants to know what you thought of Hawaii. Have a good time? She’s thinking honeymoon.
Jesus.
Me: Lot of sun. Lot of trees. Fucking lot of water.
Deke: Still an ass, I see. Still have the beard, too?
The result of my no-shave summer, and apparently, the straw that broke Donna’s back. Oh, yeah. I stroked what was left of it after trimming it this morning, and out of the blue imagined rubbing the short scruff against the naked tawny skin of a fuckin’ hot stranger.
Me: Best decision ever.
Sophie
As quickly as I could in these ridiculous heels, I hurried back to my departure gate. The blood still pounded through my veins at the thought of Antonio’s foolishness. If I had any lingering doubt that taking a new job on the other side of the country was the right move, it was just shot down. And what was that idiota thinking, dragging mi papa along to help change my mind? As if that would ever happen! It had been months since I broke up with him. My mind was set. And if I did not want to date him any longer, I sure as hell did not want to marry the overbearing ass.
It took every bit of patience and civility in me to help him refund the tickets he bought to pass through security. The only reason I did not let him eat the cost was I was afraid he would return to harass me even more. If I never saw him again in my lifetime, it would be a week too soon.
A crowd was gathered around a bank of monitors announcing arrivals and departures. I changed course and skirted the throng. I had just checked the status of my red-eye when I was at the ticket counter selling back the moron’s tickets. Right on time, although I was so wound up I would not sleep for hours. Damn those men!
Ugh, mi papa! I would deal with him later. Or maybe I would give mi mama a call. She would take care of the problem with the notorious sharp edge of her tongue. The idea made me grin, but then I jerked out of my vindictive fantasy and halted mid-stride when I realized I was about to pass my gate.
The line to board snaked through the waiting area, and I took my place at the end behind a family with a young girl and a teenage son—who managed to give hormonal fourteen-year-old males the world over a bad rap by gluing his eyes to my chest. Where was Pokémon Go when I needed it? I tugged the edges of my denim jacket together and glared at him until his mom happened to notice and bopped him on his head. Was it bad I wanted to fist bump her?
Toward the head of the line, I spotted the guy from earlier in the bar—hot surfer type with a beard and tribal ink. The one I was flirting with only minutes before. The one who witnessed the showdown with my father and my ex. The dude was glued to his phone. Probably still saying good-bye to his girlfriend; he did not look settled enough to be a married man. He had played along, but then, an airport bar offered a great deal of anonymity. I was also someone I normally was not, brave and daring . . . and a little bit slutty. But he had every nerve ending in my body on high alert. Which was really too bad. I had lived in LA my entire life, where the guys were all the same. They might be pretty to look at, but they wore their brains somewhere south of their waistbands.
Thank God, the line started moving. Somewhere behind me a baby fussed. I knew the feeling. Overnight transcontinental flights were never fun. The best you could hope for was you fell asleep fast and the passenger beside you didn’t snore. Or drool.
I craned my neck to look for the surfer dude once I got through the jetway and reached the door to the plane. I had heard grumblings about our flight being overbooked since I got in line, and once I saw how packed the coach section already was—and how many people were still behind me—the rumors seemed to have merit. It was disappointing, but not as much as realizing I had not caught sight of a dark beard on a casually dressed beach bum.
“Ticket, please.” The flight attendant interrupted my musings and I opened the app on my phone to show her my seat assignment. “Twenty-Five-A,” she directed, and pointed to my right. I was still behind the gawky teenager, but I had learned to deal with hormonal adolescents years ago. My immediate concern was to locate the seat number that matched my boarding pass. I remained a half step back to keep from kicking the wheeled carry-on ahead of me, and a moment later arrived at my destination. What I did not find was an empty seat.
As passengers bumped around me, I lifted my voice to reach the man dozing in the window seat. My window seat. “Sir. Sir! I believe you are in the wrong place. I have been assigned this seat.” I held out my phone with the boarding pass app loaded. He stirred and glared at me through unfocused eyes.
“I’m sitting here. This is my seat. I have a boarding pass here somewhere.” He patted his shirt pocket, then reached under the seat in front of him and produced a printout that matched the information on my phone app. Exactly. How could this be?
I let my eyes wander Coach to search for a flight attendant, but they were all occupied with seating the other passengers. I would have to return to the attendant who already helped me. Like a salmon swimming upstream, I fought my way back down the aisle as passengers found seats and loaded belongings in overhead compartments on either side of me. I was nearly breathless by the time I arrived at her side.
I pulled out my cell phone again and waited the few seconds it took for the boarding pass app to load. The man asleep in my seat was only one more frustration in a day—and night—full of them, but I was finally escaping the cage I had lived in my entire life. The hour was lat
e and we were all tired, but I could manage this situation with grace. Make mi mama proud. I offered the attendant a smile when she gave me her attention.
“I am sorry to interrupt you, but it seems they double booked my seat.” I offered her my phone, and again she peered at my electronic boarding pass. Then she glanced down the aisle way and at the clipboard in her hand. “Not a problem. Wait here and I’ll be right back.” She waded through the line of final people trying to find their seats until she came to my window seat over the wing. She woke the snoozing man again, and he snarled as he presented his boarding document. Her brow furrowed and she checked it again, then made her way back to me. With a determined set to her features, she grabbed the sleeve of another attendant who happened to pass by. “John, can you take over here for a moment, please? I need to seat this passenger.” John simply nodded and took the clipboard from her, then resumed her duties.
I felt much like the child left standing in a game of musical chairs. I let my gaze sweep over the passengers one more time. Where was my sexy surfer? Would it not be something if he noticed me and stood . . . and announced the seat beside him was free?
The attendant led me out of Coach, swept the privacy curtain aside as we approached First Class, and I reluctantly abandoned my fantasy. She spoke over her shoulder as I stepped through to enter. “Don’t worry. Follow me in here. Dan will have just the seat for you.”
Blake
I hadn’t been seated long enough to finish my first free beer when a commotion in the aisle alerted me that the window seat beside me wouldn’t remain vacant after all. I raised my tray, and the swish of my girl’s skirt brushed my bare legs as she passed in front of me. My heart gave a healthy kick. My cock gave a playful lurch as well, but I put an end to that shit immediately. I didn’t even know her name.
The attendant helped her find overhead storage for her carry-on. Dan, his nametag said. Dude already looked tired, as if he couldn’t wait for everyone to nod off so he could grab a nap, too. “We’re almost ready to take off. Can I get you something to drink?”
We both turned to my new seatmate expectantly. She offered him a sweet smile. “Do you have lemonade?” Innocent. The cock tease from earlier realized maybe she’d gone overboard. Dammit!
Dan nodded. “Sure. A can okay?”
“A can is fine.” And before he could turn to me she added, “And one of those little bottles of vodka.” She showed me her laughing eyes. Well, okay, then.
I picked up my bottle to check the level. Dan raised a brow, guy code for you gonna let the chick outdrink you? Fuck you, Dan. I set the bottle back on my lowered tray. “Sure, bring me another.” Why the hell not?
She’d added a short jacket over her dress since the bar, and covered a good amount of skin. Too bad. Our seats were wide and we had plenty of leg room. My seatmate possessed the beauty that inspired poets to write sonnets. But once she stowed her oversized handbag she turned to peer out the window. Into the black night. Where the only thing to see was pinpoints of light in the distance and our reflections in the open porthole.
I could let that go. Be a gentleman and allow her to pretend she hadn’t been blowing a straw less than an hour ago to wind me up. But who was I kidding? There was no fun in that. I bristled my hand over the short whiskers on my cheek and made a show of checking my watch. “So, forty minutes ago your lips made my dick hard. Now we’re strangers?”
She slammed the cover down over the glass and whipped her head my way; her hair flew to settle over her shoulders and curl over the curve of her breasts. Nice. Her cheeks had gone pink under the tan of her natural skin tone. “I . . . I . . .”
I let her off the hook and extended my hand. I even added a grin so she knew I was teasing. “I’m Blake.” The cabin lights had been dimmed and individual spotlights were blinking off throughout our area. The older gentleman across the aisle from me was already snoring softly.
She put her much smaller hand in mine. It was soft and smooth. “Blake. I am . . . Sophie.” She added a short nod at the end of her introduction, as though she needed to convince herself as much as me. “I should apologize.” Her cheeks flushed to a deep shade. “My behavior—”
“Oh, please, don’t apologize on my behalf.” I laughed. “I enjoyed the hell out of it. Any time you feel the need to continue—”
“Dios mio,” she groaned. “I was bored, and I tend to be . . . reckless . . . when I have too much time on my hands.” She spread her hands helplessly. “I’ve never done anything like that before. My friend Melissa, she encourages me to be more outgoing since I broke up with my boyfriend, but I think maybe that is not what she has in mind, no?
I chuckled. “Well, Sophie, unless your friend Melissa is a hooker, I think maybe no.”
Sophie’s mouth dropped open and her eyes rounded, then she dissolved into laughter. “Melissa?” Her voice rose in a squeak and got her laughing again. “Oh, no! Kindergarten. She is an angel with the little ones.” There was a mixture of pride and mirth in her tone to go along with the amusement in her features. “As a matter of fact, she was also my kindergarten teacher so many years ago.” One of Sophie’s finely arched eyebrows rose. “She will retire soon, but she will enjoy knowing I listened to her advice. I do not think I will give her the details, though.” Sophie giggled, but the laughter died in her throat and her hands flew to clutch the armrests when the plane’s engines fired up and vibrated throughout the cabin. Her gaze darted from point to point.
“Relax. They’re just starting the plane. You don’t fly often, huh?” Muted instructions for the attendants came over the speakers from the cockpit. Someone closed the door to the jetway.
She shook her head. “Not often. But mi papa, he did not want me to drive all the way across the country alone.”
I reached up and flicked off my reading light, leaving only Sophie’s and one other some distance away. Dan arrived with our drinks and Sophie lowered her tray.
“Here, let me get that for you.” I took her can and bottle from him so he wouldn’t have to reach over me and set them on her tray. He handed me my new beer and grabbed my now-empty bottle. “Thanks, man.”
Sophie opened her drinks and measured a portion of the liquor into the plastic cup Dan had also provided, then filled it with lemonade. It seemed an odd combination. I waved my finger to indicate her concoction. “That’s really a thing, huh? Or did you just make it up?” She lifted her cup and took a sip, then considered me over the rim as the tip of her tongue swept her lips. My eyes followed the motion. She cocked her head, her face framed by a fall of thick, dark curls. Her glistening lips tipped up at the corners.
“You have never had a dirty Mexican?” Fuck me. Suddenly, my cock was jumping up and down and waving and volunteering as tribute. Dirty Mexican? Yes, please!
Hit it. I took a tropical vacation and came up empty. But I had a feeling my two-week dry spell might end in the last place I would have imagined.
Sophie
Oh, Sophie, when will you learn to be more careful what you wish for? The man was delicious to look at with his combination of dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. His T-shirt strained over his muscular biceps and fell smoothly over what appeared to be a rock-solid torso. Little tremors kicked up in my belly, and my breasts seemed fuller and heavier in the halter top of my dress. The engine grew suddenly louder, and my tremoring heart now felt as though it would beat out of my chest. My hands gripped the armrests so tightly I could not feel my fingertips.
“Sophie.”
I closed my eyes. The plane started moving down the runway faster and faster . . .
“Sophie!”
We lifted into the air with a jolt, and my thundering heart fell to my stomach. Warm, calloused hands covered mine, and my eyes flew open. Blake was there, his nose on mine, the smell of beer in my face, his soothing southern accent that had come as a sweet surprise calming me.
“It’s only a lot of noise. Everything is fine. We’re right here buckled in our seats and safe. I’m ri
ght here with you. It will be over soon.” He crooned as my nana would to a fussing child. I nodded as though I understood, but I did not understand.
I loosened my grip but did not pull my hands out from under his. Truthfully, the heat and weight of them was pleasant. I lowered my voice to a murmur as the only sound in our section of the plane seemed to come from our seats. The one other light had been flicked off moments ago, turning my reading lamp into a spotlight. “Thank you. I am being ridiculous. Look around us; none of the other passengers are freaking out.”
Blake’s eyes did not stray from my face. “I don’t want to look anywhere else.” He turned my palms over in his and linked our fingers. It was an oddly intimate thing to do. I hardly knew him. Yet, I played sexy games with him in the bar because I was attracted to him. We were becoming more and more alone in our corner of the airplane, with passengers surrendering to sleep all around us.
Eyes dark and cloudy, Blake released my hands to turn off my light and throw us into shadows. As he lowered his arm, he lifted the divider between us and his face was close enough for me to cup his cheek and feel the soft bristles of his beard on my palm. He lifted both of his hands to my jaw and ran one thumb along my chin. And then my lower lip. The vodka had done its job. I kept my eyes locked on his and parted my lips, then touched the tip of my tongue to his thumb. His chest expanded in his snug T-shirt as he inhaled a deep, choppy breath.