HARD RIDE (The Slayers MC Book 2)
Page 17
“Can I get you something to drink, Miss?” The waiter I’d met a moment ago asks me.
My eyes light up and I blurt out, “Wine. Please. White.”
I need a little something to take the edge off. Just knowing that the wine is on its way seems to do the trick and I can feel my shoulders begin to relax.
“Hey there, Speedy Gonzales.”
I freeze. I close my eyes. I know that voice.
Crap!
Slowly, I turn my head, knowing in my gut who I’ll find. The chair nearest to my right is taken. I can see that much from my periphery. I take stock of him as I now turn to face him, scanning my eyes upward from the ground. The same expensive leather shoes that I had seen before when he helped me collect my sketches. Dark rinse jeans that fit perfectly, as if they were made for him. Trust me, I make clothes for people, I know.
A crisp, white, button-down shirt falls in a relaxed way around his hips, and at this exact moment I notice the gentle wafting of his cologne. I feel it swirling in my nostrils as I breathe it deep. I feel it hanging in my throat as I swallow. It’s heavy and light at the same time.
His tanned wrists peak out from the rolled cuffs of his sleeve, adorned by nothing other than a simple watch. The buttons down the center of his shirt are held in place tightly as the muscles underneath push against the fabric, stretching it.
Broad shoulders, thick neck, chiseled jaw with a speckling of very short stubble. Chestnut colored hair just long enough to have a wave to it, mussed, as if he likes to run his fingers back through it.
Dark sunglasses rest on his perfectly proportioned nose. It’s passed midnight. Indoors. Why the hell does he have sunglasses on?
“Miss Baker?” My attention is stolen by the friendly woman from behind the counter outside the first class lounge by the gate, Kara.
I can feel the tall man’s eyes fixed on me from behind his ridiculous shades.
“Yes?” I ask her. “Can we switch?”
Kara leans down to answer. “I’m sorry. The gentleman’s not traveling alone and he is hesitant to be separated from his companion. They’re returning home from their honeymoon. I’m afraid it won’t work to switch your seat.”
I bite my lip. I tend to do that when I’m trying to think my way out of a tough situation. “Hmm. I didn’t realize they were flying together.” I remember the loving looks they shared and even through I don’t know them, I’m happy to hear they’re on their honeymoon. Just because I think marriage is an archaic institution bound to fail, it doesn’t mean everyone else does. It’s not that I don’t believe in love, I’ve just never experienced the kind of thing I saw between the newlyweds outside in the waiting area.
Kara begins to move, attempting to leave. “Wait. Could I give them my seat and then purchase another seat so they’ll be next to each other? Is there an empty seat in first class available?”
I mean, how much could a first class ticket cost, anyway?
Kara looks vaguely annoyed that I stopped her from leaving. “There’s one available first class ticket left.”
“Sold!” I reply a little too loudly for some of the other passengers nearby. I’m gifted one or two nasty scowls in return. Lowering my voice, I ask. “How much will it cost?”
Kara suddenly looks smug when answering. “Nineteen hundred dollars.”
I lose my breath. Nineteen. Hundred. Dollars. That’s one month’s rent for me, and equal to the balance of my checking account. The disappointment is tightly wound through my voice. “Oh…”
Sitting back in my chair I feel a wave of disappointment wash over me. Kara turns to leave for a second time.
“I’m sorry, is there something wrong with your ticket?” The handsomely dressed, sunglass-wearing man to my side asks, having witnessed the scene unfold.
Resting my head on my hand with my elbow propped up on the armrest that separates our seats, I shake my head. “No. I was trying to give my ticket to a soldier who’s waiting with coach, but he needs two tickets. I can’t afford the extra ticket, so it looks like I can’t make the switch.”
I can’t even manage to do this correctly.
Several small metal clicking sounds signal that he’s finally taking off those absurd sunglasses. I mean, who wears sunglasses like that, hmm? Who does he think he is? Brad Pitt?
“Why would you give a perfect stranger your ticket?” He’s curious. I can sense his body shifting to sit closer.
He’s nosy.
“Do I need a reason? He certainly didn’t, whoever he is, when he signed up to protect our country. The least I could do is let him have a comfortable seat to say thanks. It doesn’t matter now though. It’s not going to happen.” I rub my temple to relieve the stress.
“We’ll see about that.” The man stands and follows Kara out.
What’s that supposed to mean? “We’ll see about that.” I watch his body as it walks away, his powerful gait marching further and further away until it disappears through the door.
Who is this guy, with his delicious cologne, his nosy questions, and his arrogance?
My recent behavior has earned me a fresh round of condescending eye rolls from Miss Plastic Surgery over there.
Within two minutes I see the brown leather shoes land directly in front of me as I hang my head in defeat.
“Let’s go, Speedy,” he holds his hand out to me.
I eye it, but don’t take it. My eyes snake up the sleeve, following the muscular arm to those rock solid shoulders before settling on his gorgeous face no longer hidden by those silly sunglasses.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
I know who he is. Hell, everyone knows who he is.
Colton Webb.
Sparkle magazine’s sexiest man alive. Multi-millionaire blockbuster actor, and object of every warm-blooded woman’s fantasies.
“Ex—excuse me?” I just spoke with Colton Webb. Colton Webb is speaking to me. How is this happening?
“This lounge is for first class passengers only.” His phrase is vague. I look around as we’re now the center of attention.
“And? I still don’t understand.” I feel a dozen or so pairs of eyes boring into me. My neck begins to feel warm.
He gives up on me taking his hand, and instead, reaches down to take hold of my carry-on. “We’re now considered second class citizens, sweetheart. Time to go get in line with the hundred or so regular everyday Joes.”
I’m left behind as Mr. Hollywood takes himself, along with my bag, out of the first class lounge, leaving the door to begin its swing to close.
“Wait!” I chase after him. “My bag!”
Colton Webb just stole my bag. In what universe does this happen?
Like what you’ve read so far?
Order the Complete Book HERE
ALSO FROM THIS AUTHOR:
The Kingsmen MC series:
Book 1: A Lil' Less Broken
Book 2: A Lil' Less Lost
Book 3: A Lil' Less Hopeless
Book 4: Bitter Sweet Deception
Book 5: Bitter Sweet Beginnings
Book 6: Bitter Sweet Cravings
The Chianti Kisses Series:
Book 1: Baby V
Book 2: Boss
Book 3: Betrayed
My Soul To Wake Series:
Book 1: Stain
The Badge Boys Series:
Book 1: Pretty Boy
Book 2: Dark Web
The “A” List Series:
Book 1: All The Pretty Lights
Book 2: The Harder They Fall
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