by M. E. Carter
“I need to send them a thank you note,” I murmur.
“What?”
Oops. Words came out of my mouth again.
“Nothing. Do you always fly like this?” I ask, crisscrossing my legs on the chair and flipping through the channels of the tiny personal television set in front of me.
“In first class?”
“Yeah.”
“Most times. I need the leg room.”
Looking down, I almost feel bad that some poor schmuck in the back needs this floor space more than I do. Almost. But then the flight attendant comes back and all is forgotten.
“Thank you!” I grin widely, knowing my excitement probably makes me look like I am fresh from the loony bin, but I don’t care. “Ooh, this is so good,” I say, downing my beverage from a real glass. Not a plastic one. Seriously, the rich and the famous know how to do things right. “Can I have another one?” She nods and magically appears with a second glass of white. “How’s your rum and Coke?”
“Not quite as strong as I like it,” Spencer says as we hear the doors close in the background, “but it’s good.”
“Wanna try my wine? I bet nothing on an airplane has ever tasted this fancy before.”
He chuckles again, a sound I’m coming to love, and shakes his head. “No thank you. I’m good with my manly drink right here.”
I pull back and give him a mock glare. “Manly drink? Are you calling my wine less than manly?”
“Aggi.” There’s my name again. Swoon. Maybe drinking on an empty stomach wasn’t a good idea. “You and your drink couldn’t get any less manly.”
I gape at him. “I beg your pardon. We are very manly, thank you very much.”
He smirks, which is suddenly my new favorite look on him. “Aggi, you’re holding your pinkie up in the air when you drink.”
“I am not!” And then I look down. “Oh. Huh. I guess I am.”
He laughs again, and it makes me happy to see the smile on his face. I did that. Agnes Sylvester put a smile on the great Spencer Garrison’s face. Now I understand why women talk about feeling powerful.
No, actually I’ve never heard a real woman say that before. I’ve only read it in romance novels. But still. Now I understand it.
“I think you need to slow down on the drinking. Our flight’s not too long and I don’t have enough arms to carry you and two suitcases through the airport.”
Waving my hand dismissively, I take another sip. “Oh pish posh. I’ll be fine. But seriously, you need to try this.”
Reaching my glass over in offering, the plane takes that exact moment to lurch, spilling most of my wine right on Spencer’s lap.
Mortified and regaining my wits faster than I lost them in the first place, I place my glass on the tray and pick up my napkin. “Oh my gosh, Spencer. I’m so sorry! Let me help you.”
Before I get to my target, Spencer’s hand wraps around my wrist, stopping my motion. “Don’t,” he growls.
“Wha-what?”
With amusement in his eyes his gaze reaches mine. “I don’t think you really want to turn this into a cliché romance scene, do you?”
“I—what?”
That smile is back. “Look what you were about to do.”
Looking down slowly, realization hits me. I was about to wipe wine off Spencer’s lap. Which means I was about to grab his junk.
Pulling my arm back like I’m being burned, I throw my hands over my mouth. “I don’t want to be part of the mile-high club!”
The laugh that comes out of Spencer is so loud and so long, people begin staring. “Ohmygod, did you—did you just say you don’t want to be—?” He’s laughing so hard he’s wiping tears from his eyes.
First class is suddenly not as fun as it was before the wine. Crossing my arms over my chest, I grumble, “At least I didn’t make a joke about you talking in a gravelly voice and being hard.”
That does it. The belly laughter starts all over again. Spencer laughs so hard the flight attendant comes over to see what the fuss is about.
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes. She—” Spencer gives up trying to explain and waves her away, but not before taking our empty glasses and reminding us to put our tray tables away.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself so much this morning,” I snap as I settle in my seat. I can’t help the irritation that floods through me. Although to be honest, part of me wants to laugh too. If I wasn’t feeling humiliated, I probably would. And who knew wine in the morning let my claws come out?
“Aggi, if the rest of the trip is going to be like this, we’re going to have one hell of a tour.”
Spencer continues to chuckle long after I’m staring out the window, watching our plane hover above the clouds, leaving the East Coast behind.
Chapter 14
Spencer
Next stop: Minneapolis
Home of the Summer X Games, circa 2017 – 2020
I thought Philadelphia cold had a bite to it. Nope. I was wrong. Minneapolis doesn’t just have a bite. It has giant monster teeth ready to chew you up and spit you back out. Holy balls, it’s cold. Of course we are here during a week of “abnormally cool temps for this time of year” or some other bullshit statement everyone has said to us about the weather. Apparently, it’s usually a little bit warmer here and, as luck would have it, will be about fifteen degrees warmer. Next week. Call me a baby but I’m a kid that grew up in Texas and now lives in California. I don’t do winter.
Ambling over to the thermostat that doesn’t seem to be doing jack shit to heat up my new hotel room, I listen to my sister prattle on in my ear.
“But is she nice? Not just fake nice but for real nice? No don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. But I kind of want to know.”
I roll my eyes. This is why I’ve avoided her calls for the last couple of weeks. The second she found out I was going to be in close contact with her idol, I knew my cell company would start questioning my data plan and the fact that my minutes usage skyrocketed.
“Yes, Kate. She’s very nice,” I deadpan as I bang on the thermostat again. Why isn’t anything happening?
“Don’t patronize me, Spencer Garrison. This would be like me spending three weeks with Tony Hawk.”
I snort a laugh because she’s dreaming if she thinks her husband would ever let her near a superstar. He’s no dummy. He knows he snagged himself a good woman in my sister and he would never risk her falling for someone else. No hall passes for that man.
“I’m not patronizing you. She’s lovely.”
“Lovely?”
“Yeah. She’s funny and witty and so good with words. Well. Words on paper anyway.” I smile when I think about how not good she is with words in person sometimes. “She makes me laugh and she’s pretty good at photography. When she laughs, she does this weird thing—”
Kate gasps, stopping my tangent. “Oh. My. God. You like her!”
Shit. The last thing I need is for my sister to blast that on social media, so I go right into denial mode.
“Of course I like her, Kate. She’s a likeable person.”
“Oh no you don’t. You like her like her, Spencer, and don’t try denying it.” She gasps again, and I know where this is headed. “Ohmygod, do you love her? She’s going to be my sister-in-law, isn’t she?”
“Slow your roll there, crazy pants.”
I spend the next twenty minutes doing damage control with Kate. I’m not sure she’s buying a single thing I’m saying, so finally, I cut her off. “Kate, I know this is exciting for you and I get it. Adi is pretty fantastic and you’re right, I do like her. We’re becoming friends. And, it’s because she’s my friend that I don’t want anything negative to get out about us hanging out. You know how social media can be. She’s sweet, and it wouldn’t be fair if people made the wrong assumption and some of those crazy groupies started harassing her. This is her career, Kate. I don’t want to screw that up. So, can we just agree that we’re friends and having fun tra
veling together?”
The line is quiet. Too quiet, in fact, that I pull the phone from my ear to check the connection. Still there. Finally, I hear my sister speak.
“You’re right. Sorry. You know how excited I get. I want you to find someone, Spence. And I haven’t heard you speak of anyone like you were Adeline. Besides, if you were dating her and then married her and gave me nieces and nephews, I’d for sure get early copies of all her books. Oh! Even the foreign translations! I love those covers. Don’t you think?”
“I’m so glad you have your priorities straight, sis,” I say with a resigned shake of my head. “I gotta go. I’m meeting Adi soon. We have an event tonight and then another tomorrow morning before we head to Aspen.”
“I’m still jealous you’re going to Aspen for four days.”
“Don’t be. We’ll probably sleep the entire time. I’m just glad I had the forethought to call Slade to use his condo. I’m over this hotel living.”
“I can imagine. Call me next week, okay?”
Once I agree to call Kate next week and then accept a chorus of goodbyes from my nieces, I hang up the phone and plug it in before tapping my music icon. As the beats of Social Distortion’s “Story of My Life” fill the room, I step into the bathroom for a shower and shave. The shower feels great as the water beats on my neck, especially since the water is hot and I can’t seem to get the damn heater to work. I need to call the front desk about that.
Focusing on getting the spray on a particularly knotted up muscle in my back, I curse my ailments. I never thought making a career out of the sport I loved as a kid and excelled at as a teenager would lead to so many aches and pains. The constant kink in my neck from traveling and sleeping in beds that aren’t mine is yet another reminder that retirement is something I need to get serious about. Ultimately, I’d like to have a family, be the dad who is coaching Little League, the retired skater who teaches both his son and daughter how to flip a board before they’re old enough for kindergarten. If I don’t start taking care of my body, those moments may not happen. I can’t bend and lift like I used to.
Getting old is a bitch. A fickle bitch.
After showering, I stare at my suitcase and contemplate tonight’s signing. The last few events, I’ve kept it pretty casual with my clothes but tonight I feel like stepping it up a bit. Aggi is always put together. Her Adeline Snow persona is obviously into fashion and has a special style about her. I should try not to look like a skater bum standing next to her. Instead of the Henley I planned to wear, I pull the ironing board and iron from the closet and set about smoothing out the wrinkles of my dress shirt. I’m not the best ironer but at least I won’t look like I just rolled out of bed. Or maybe I will. It’s cold as balls in here. If I don’t get some clothes on soon I’m likely to get hypothermia.
I’m rolling the sleeves of my dark gray shirt up to the elbows when my phone signals a text message. Grabbing my phone from the charger, I tap the message.
Aggi: I took a nap and now I’m tired.
Me: I hate that. Coffee first?
Aggi: You read my mind. I’m almost ready. Meet you at the elevators in ten?
Me: See you then.
Slipping into my shoes, I sit down on the bed and realize for the first time that ten minutes is a really long time. Time ticks by at a snail’s pace and I briefly contemplate walking down the hall to Aggi’s room instead of waiting at the elevator. If she only needed ten minutes, she’s probably close to ready so it shouldn’t be a big deal. I grab my wallet and exit my room but as soon as the door latches behind me, I look up and find the girl herself walking toward me.
“Ten minutes is a really long time,” she says.
Laughing, I shake my head and walk toward her. “I was thinking the same thing. You look beautiful.”
A blush creeps up her neck to her cheeks, and it’s adorable as fuck. She is beautiful. Her hair is piled high, similar to how it was when we first met in Chicago. Her makeup resembles that of an old-school pinup calendar but it’s her outfit that really blows me away. Her black dress is tight through her chest, her very on display chest, down to her waist as it flares out to the knee. Tiny white buttons start at her cleavage and dot down to the narrowest part of her waist. She looks classic and modern all at once.
“Thanks. You, um, you clean up pretty nice yourself.”
I feel a slight blush of my own which is ridiculous. I’m used to women throwing themselves at me, so a compliment isn’t that big of a deal, but coming from Aggi it seems huge. I step toward her as she smiles shyly and turns toward the elevators. We only make it three steps before Aggi stumbles and mumbles something about “stupid flipping high heels.” I smile and shake my head but say nothing as I place my hand to her lower back in an effort to not only guide her but hopefully catch her if she eats shit.
The line at the coffee shop in the hotel lobby is long but moving quickly so we take our place. Making small talk, I hear the whispers and see people pointing a little at Aggi. Adi. I need to use her pen name tonight. She wasn’t kidding that it gets confusing. Ignoring the whispers, she’s telling me about a hike she wants to take in Aspen when I notice a woman getting a little closer to us than anyone else. My guard is up, and I move my body a little so I’m shielding Aggi, er Adi. Shit. After placing our order and paying, we step aside and wait for our coffees when the woman I saw approaching steps around me in front of Adi.
“Oh.My.Gosh! You’re Adeline Snow. Right here. In the coffee place.”
Smiling, Adi reaches her hand out to the woman. Excitedly, the woman shakes her hand and then lets out a sound I can only compare to a dog’s squeaky chew toy.
“This is so great. I mean, I’m going to the signing. I have like fourteen books for you to sign and I cannot wait for you to talk about your process. I’m an aspiring author myself.”
“Fourteen? Wow, that’s so great.” Adi looks nervous and unsure, but plays it off well, not stumbling over her words at all. “Thank you so much for your support. I really appreciate it. Pardon my rudeness; this is Spencer Garrison. He’ll also be at the event tonight.”
“Oh, I know who he is. I have a few posters for you to sign too. But, Adeline I am so glad to have this one-on-one time. I have a bone to pick with you.”
I thought sports fans had balls, but this lady is something else. She’s not only in Adi’s personal space, she’s a little aggressive in her posture. Hands on her hips and head tilted, I step toward Adi again, my hand once again resting on her lower back. This time, it’s a gesture of protectiveness and support and not one to keep her from falling on her face.
“A-a bone?” Adi asks, her confusion evident.
“Yes. Bobby deserved his own story. You set it up perfectly in the beginning of High Altitude. Then by chapter fourteen he was dead. You murdered Bobby!”
The woman’s voice raises with each sentence and I can feel the tension radiate off Adi as it does. People around us begin to stare, the sounds of the espresso machine are non-existent as the woman continues shouting. She’s quite passionate about Bobby and his love match.
“The meet cute was perfect and then nothing. You ruined it!”
Her last words are sharp and full of venom. I look to Adi and see her chest moving rapidly. Her eyes are wide, and her breathing is less breathing and more huffing. It’s almost like she’s doing some weird breathing exercise. Lamaze. That’s what it’s like. The one time I watched my sister practicing her Lamaze breathing was a lot like this. Shit, she’s hyperventilating.
“I hope you’re happy with what you’ve done. Bobby deserved better!” With that final declaration, the woman stomps away. The crowd around us stares for a few seconds at the strangest scene they’ve probably witnessed at a hotel lobby coffee stand. I quickly turn my attention to Adi and stand in front of her. My hands run up and down her biceps as her breathing picks up speed instead of slowing down. Shit.
“This is why I don’t do tours,” Adi mumbles next to me. “I told my publicist it wa
s too much, but she doesn’t listen to me.”
Squatting to eye level, she looks at me, wide-eyed. Fear dances in her eyes as she rambles on about her luck running out, so I do the only thing I can think of.
I kiss her.
It’s quick and not really my best work, but I kiss her. Quick and with need, my lips touch hers and I’m gone. Gone from thinking rational thoughts and how this is in public and there are probably fifty phones aimed at us taking pictures or video. I don’t care. I have wanted to kiss this woman since the first day I laid my eyes on her. With one hand on her waist and the other on her neck, I tug her to me and I feel the moment she gives in to the kiss. Her body molds to mine and her arms grip my biceps. I lick her bottom lip but instead of opening for me, she gasps and pulls back. The moment frozen in time. My heart beats rapidly as the realization of this kiss hits me. It’s sweet and tentative, passionate and hot. Everything you want in a kiss, everything I’ve read in her books come to life. Shit, I sound like my sister.
“What . . . what was that?” she asks, confusion, excitement and maybe a little fear in her eyes.
“A kiss.”
“Why did you do that?”
“I don’t know. I mean we were standing here and then that woman was screaming, and you were breathing weird. I thought you might pass out, so I just did what I thought would help.”
“Kissing me? You thought that was the way to stop my weird breathing?”
“I mean, it’s kind of like CPR, right? Mouth to mouth or—or something.” We both know that’s the lamest excuse I could come up with. I’ve never been trained in emergency techniques but even I know mouth-to-mouth resuscitation doesn’t include tongue.
Looking down at the ground I scramble to think of an apology that is more for making a scene than for the kiss. I won’t apologize for that. It was fucking fantastic.
A laugh bellows from her and when I look up she’s smiling shyly with her hand on her mouth. Taking a step toward me, she whispers, “You kissed me.”