by K. A Knight
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
About the Author
Also By K.A Knight
The Standby
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to places, events or real people are entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 K.A. Knight, all rights reserved: Written by K.A. Knight
Edited By Jess from Elemental Editing and Proofreading
Formatted by Kaila Duff of Duffette Literary Services
Cover by Everly Yours Designs
For those who have been hurt one too many times by love, there is still hope...
One
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
It looks like Cupid spunked all over the airport, and don’t even get me started on all the couples touching and kissing...PDA anyone? I mean, I don’t hate Valentine’s day, the opposite actually, but when you’re alone for the day and seeing everyone else’s happiness...it tends to make you a little bitter.
Smashing my fist into a red, heart-shaped balloon, which hits me in the face as I try to pass through the door, escaping from a couple lip-locked in passion, I swear and force myself to take deep breaths. Maybe this week away is what I need to stop being such a party-pooper, although I did book it with my ex before I found out he liked to stick his dick in the cougar next door as well. Instead of cancelling it, I packed my bag and decided to go solo to the romantic trip to Dubai.
Smiling politely at check-in, I get my bag put away and then head to security where I have to stand by a couple feeling each other up and giggling like they just snorted some helium. Patiently waiting, I take off my coat and jewellery, and place them in the tray with my bag before heading through the scanner, only to be selected to be searched.
Of fucking course.
When they finally stop feeling me up—like a four foot nine, curvy, brown-haired girl could smuggle anything but this giant ass and boobs through—I decide to grab a coffee as I wait for the flight. An hour later, I toss my cup in the bin and move on so others can take a seat, then I head over the tiled floor, squeezing my way through the crush near the boards to check my flight.
Delayed.
It flashes in red and my mouth drops open. That’s it, I’m cursed. Fucking cursed! I have to be. Bloody Cupid didn’t shoot me with his bow, he hit me with it and dropped me on my ass.
I head to information, and after waiting in an extremely long line, I find out my flight might not be delayed but cancelled. They tell me to come back in a few hours to check on the progress, but they throw words out there like ‘standby’ and ‘overnight.’
Motherfucker.
Resigning myself to waiting around the airport, I decide to go shopping to cheer myself up. I hit WHSmith first and buy lots of chocolate and snacks before pursuing the book aisle. I brought two with me, but they are packed in the case, and I could do with one for the wait now and then the plane. Walking between the aisles, I find the best-selling rack and look for the new horror one I wanted to read…what was his name...James? No, Kim? Nope. I’ve read a few by the same author before, all horror fiction, good as well. In fact, one of the best I’ve read, even if he can’t quite get his leading ladies to be as strong as he wants. Least he didn’t have them with their tits out, falling down and screaming, waiting for a male to come and save her.
I scan the covers for one that looks familiar and I finally spot it on the second shelf. On it is a partial forest and cabin with a woman in a white dress. I grab it, having to stretch up on my tiptoes, my cable knit sweater riding up, and no doubt flashing everyone. Ah-ha, victory!
Holding it, I flip it over to read the blurb, and happy with my choice, I head to the till. I have to show them my boarding pass and then I take my new findings and stroll back outside. The main terminal is crazy, packed with people from delayed flights, so I keep walking past the gates to one of the far ones where it’s pretty empty, then I find two comfy-looking leather seats, one is taken by a young man. I drop my backpack on the floor with my bag, put in my earbuds, and play my music. I crack open the book and dive in, knowing it could be hours before I receive an update.
I lose myself in the story as Elise makes a daring escape from a serial killer. The story is riveting, and the whole world fades as I furiously turn the pages, the plot sucking me in until suddenly, my music cuts out in one ear.
I realise someone has plucked one of my earphones away.
“Enjoying the book?” comes a deep, cultured voice from right next to me.
My eyes flit to the man holding my earbud, his enchanting brown and yellow eyes disarming me, with flecks of gold surrounding the iris, and his lush lips kill all my annoyance with one glance. “Yes, it’s really good,” I reply, and then look down, unsure who this guy is or what he wants. Is he just bored? Trying to be nice? But his next words stop me cold.
“I’m glad, I enjoyed writing it.”
Cue brain fart.
“What?” I blurt, brilliant really. If this man is a writer, he must be inwardly laughing at my eloquent response.
He grins at me, flashing perfectly white teeth. His hair is blond and trimmed short, pushed back in an uncaring way that only enhances his model-like beauty. He’s in trousers and a suit shirt, and next to my jumper and jeans, he appears like he’s ready to walk a runway. His smile grows as I just gawk, revealing two dimpled cheeks, and my lady garden decides she doesn’t care if this man is crazy or not…he is finnnnneeeeee.
“I said, I enjoyed writing it. What did you think of Elise’s escape? I saw you making this cute little scrunched up nose look that made me think you didn’t like it,” he asks, sitting back and waiting for me to reply. Is this guy serious? He thinks he wrote this? Fine, this is one serious pickup line, but I’ll play.
“Actually, I did and I didn’t. It was dramatic and had a good plot, but the way she miraculously managed to pick the lock with no prior knowledge and get it done the first time? Not realistic at all, but it sure is entertaining...so, if you don’t mind, I’ll get back to reading now,” I tell him succinctly and turn away.
“You don’t believe I wrote it?” he questions, his eyebrow arched, a small smile still tugging at those lush lips like he’s in on a secret that I’m not.
I sigh loudly. “Look, you’re hot, but I’m not interested, okay?”
He rolls his lips in like he’s stopping himself from laughing. “Look at the back cover.”
Sighing dramatically, I do, and I freeze when I spot a picture that looks an awful lot like him. Eyes wide, I dart a glance from him to the picture and then back again before holding it up to his face. “Holy shit on a dick, this is you!” I blurt, and then cover my lips before peeling my hand away. “I’m so sorry about what I said…”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Actually, the truth was refreshing. I thought it was too easy as well. I originally had her struggling, but the publishers thought it pulled you from the scene too much.”
“Idiots,” I scoff, and he grins again.
“You got that right. Hi, I’m Logan Hemsworth.” He holds out a lean fin
gered hand and I gingerly shake it.
“Ryan Shaw,” I offer.
“Nice to meet you, Ryan, can I ask you where you’re flying to or am I not hot enough?”
“Erm, sorry ‘bout that. I’m flying to Dubai for a week, yourself?”
He leans farther back as I drop the book to my lap and fold my hands over it. “I’ve got a book release tour for a month, so I decided to leave early and get a week’s holiday in before all the madness starts.”
“Wow, that sounds exciting,” I respond.
“Yep, and tiring. Sometimes I wish I could just write.” He blinks then like he didn’t mean to admit that. “My flight is delayed, what about yours?”
“Y-Yeah, for four hours at least, they said I’m on standby.” I stumble over my words, sort of starstruck...or beauty struck. This man is hot and can write fictional female characters who aren’t total bimbos and idiots, it’s a surprisingly attractive trait.
“Want to get a drink? You can tell me all about my unrealistic scenes and how you aren’t interested in me,” he teases as he stands, hoisting a laptop bag onto his shoulder and grabbing a suit jacket.
Nope, don’t do it, Ryan, hot guys and you don’t mix, just remember all your exes as case studies...plus, there’s your ability to put your foot in your mouth, which seems to come out full force around this man. “Sure, as long as you’re buying, seeing as though you are some hot, rich author.”
Yup, foot in mouth.
“Deal.” He holds out his hand and helps me up as I shoulder my bag and let him lead me down to the restaurants.
This is the strangest day ever, Cupid, what are you playing at?
Two
“Pu-lease, no woman could do that without tripping over her own feet and looking like a spazzing out, blow-up doll.” I laugh as he chuckles, sipping his wine as he shakes his head.
“Okay, what about that one scene where she’s running through the forest?”
“Thank God you didn’t have her trip, or I would have to smack you with your own book, it would be like beating yourself up,” I tease.
He chuckles, the sound rich and so filled with amusement I know it’s real. His head is tipped back, his eyes closed in mirth, but I end up swallowing my amusement, my mouth becoming dry at the beautiful sight he makes. This man is dangerous, and I don’t just mean the words he puts on pages. Oh no, he’s way too attractive for his own good, and that twinkle in his eye lets me know he’s aware of it. But it’s still more than his good looks that have my panties wet, it’s his brain.
A rare find indeed. He’s smart without lording it over people, has an amazing sense of humour, and loves horror as much as I do. We have been talking for hours now, with empty plates of dinner sitting to the left and a bottle of wine between us. Around us, everyone is getting ready to take their flights or waiting for it, but us? We are in our own little world here in the middle of the busiest airport on the planet.
He lowers his head, still laughing, but at the look on my face it sobers, and a different type of fire enters those flecked eyes—hunger. His mouth opens slightly, a smirk forming as he watches me, and my eyes drop to his plump lips and dart back up to see him catching me. He doesn’t comment though, and I clear my throat and grab my wine glass, draining it in an effort to quench my growing attraction to this man. This stranger.
Well, not a complete stranger.
A man whose books I have read for years. Whose words I’ve obsessed over, curled up under my blanket, heart racing as I flipped page after page, and here he sits in front of me right now and he’s better than I could have ever imagined. It’s a lethal combination, mixed with the buzz I have from the wine he ordered. I place my glass down gently on the table and he grabs the bottle, topping us both up without commenting on my blatant staring. I guess he must be used to it by now.
The life of the rich and famous.
“So,” I clear my throat, “I suppose I better go check on my flight, they told me to come back in a few hours.” I glance at my phone to see it has, in fact, been four. Wow, I really have been sitting here talking for four hours.
He tips back his head, draining his glass in one gulp, and smiles at me dazzlingly. “I’ll join you, I have to check mine as well. Wait one moment while I pay?” he requests.
I outwardly wince. “You don’t have to do that, I was joking.” I reach for my purse. Now, I’m not as rich as this man, but I’m not struggling, and I enjoy paying for my own stuff. I’ve worked hard for my money, after all.
He waves me away as he signals for the bill. “Don’t be stupid, that was our deal and I do say you have held up your end of listening to me ramble and answering all my questions. It’s only fair I supply you with liquor to make it manageable.” He laughs, but I see a seriousness hiding in his eyes, does he think it was a hardship?
“Oh, yes, it was so difficult to sit and talk to you and gush about horror that I love. Such an absolute hardship, you are such a dull to talk to,” I exclaim dramatically, pressing my hands to my heart, but I can’t help the cheeky smile that breaks out over my face, giving me away.
He grins back, his eyes lightening with joy and cheeks slightly flushed from the wine. We continue to stare at each other, lost in each other’s eyes, and I swallow as my hands fall to my lap and his smile dims, his tongue darting out to lick his plump bottom lip, which I follow hungrily with my gaze.
“Here you go, sir,” the waiter says, interrupting our moment, so I quickly look away, my own cheeks heating. What has come over me?
I’ve never been a shy girl, or particularly giggly when it comes to men. I’m confident, cool almost, that’s what my friends say, but with this man? I feel lost, hanging on his every word and touch, analysing each flick of his eyes, each curve of his lips. Is this what a crush feels like? Huh, who knew.
We stand and he guides me from the restaurant, his palm warming the lower skin of my back, his pinky catching where my jumper has ridden up to expose my skin. Once we leave the dimmed restaurant, the brightness and buzz of the airport comes back and his hand drops away as we walk side by side through the maze and back to the information desk.
The queue is smaller now, it’s getting late and there must only be a few more flights this evening. We wait together, sharing smiles and small talk until we’re called forward by a tired-looking female with the name badge “Sarah” proudly emblazoned across her chest.
“Hi, I was told to come back as I was on the three-fifty PM flight to Dubai, which was delayed?” I explain, and she nods with a polite smile and starts to type. The smile soon fades and she looks at me almost sadly.
“I’m so sorry to tell you that flight has been cancelled. We are offering refunds or we can try and get you on another flight? I can find you one as soon as possible, and I would like to apologise again on behalf of the airline. I could try and see if there was a passenger who wouldn’t mind being bumped from their flight to another so you may take their seat?” she inquires nervously, and I sigh.
Of course, my luck is getting worse and worse, but I paste on a fake smile anyway. It isn’t her fault and I can’t take it out on her, plus Logan is watching me intently, his eyes scanning my face, so I force cheerfulness even though I was counting on this holiday to let me escape the reality of my shitty life. Even for a week.
“Let’s try another flight, do you know when it would be?” I ask, not really wanting to spend the night camped out here, but I’m in desperate need of a break and I had my heart set on this holiday.
I glance at Logan to see him wincing, but we both wait patiently as she checks her computer and calls someone. A few minutes later, she looks back up at us.
“Okay, so we can get you on the eleven AM tomorrow morning, however, only first class is available so you would need to upgrade your ticket. The airline will reimburse you for it, we would just need to put it on your card in the meantime. The airline, however, will happily pay for a hotel tonight in the Hilton next door, and of course anything else you need for the incon
venience,” she informs me.
Before I can speak—or ask how much it would cost because, hello, aren’t first class tickets expensive?—Logan steps forward and aims a smile at Sarah who instantly blushes under his gaze. “Thank you, that would be great. Please upgrade her ticket on this card, next to my seat, if possible. We will both stay in the hotel and fly tomorrow,” he instructs her. I knew he was going to Dubai, he told me in the restaurant, but I didn’t realise we would be on the same plane. A tingle goes through me at that and his offer. I will have to pay him back, of course, but still...he thought of me. Wants me to sit next to him.
Cupid, you tricky bastard.
My mouth drops open as he pushes across a black card to the still blushing Sarah, who busily begins doing as requested. I turn to Logan, but he winks down at me.
“Think of it as you can tell me your expert opinion on what else I have done wrong in my books while enjoying my dull company,” he teases, making me smile.
“Thank you, but really, please let me pay you back—”
He reaches down and presses a finger to my lips to silence me. We both freeze, barely breathing. His skin is soft, smooth against mine as our eyes lock, and when he speaks, his voice is husky. “No, remember, I’m the hot, rich author,” he jokes, but still doesn’t break our eye contact or remove his finger from my lips, which he’s almost stroking now.
The air zings between us, the attraction crazy, and my legs clench together. My heart races, my palms are sweaty, and I’ve never felt such instant...lust. I won’t say love, love at first sight doesn’t exist, but lust? Oh hell yes, and it flows between us right now, both of us caught in its spell.