In for the Win (Against the Cage Book 5)
Page 31
“Mom? Yeah, I’m on the plane. We’re about to take off. What’s up? What? Me-ma is dead?”
Oh, no…
The seatbelt sign lit up as the stewardess announced everyone should, “power off all electronic and cellular devices at this time.”
“Hold on. I’ll call you right back.”
Summer hung up the phone and shoved it back in her purse. Unfastening her seatbelt, she reached overhead and turned on the light for assistance. “I gotta go, Autumn. My grandma died.” Summer was on her feet and trying to squeeze past her before she could stand and fold up her seat. Her friend stumbled into the aisle and almost landed on the poor unsuspecting passenger across from them.
“I’m sorry. Her grandma just died,” Autumn apologized, because this lady didn’t look as pleased to have Summer’s tits in her face as the guy two rows up ahead of them had.
“Hold on, Summer. I’m coming with you,” Autumn called, trying to follow her out, but she was blocking the aisle as she struggled to wrestle her suitcase from the overhead compartment.
“No, you can’t. This vacation is non-refundable and already paid for. There’s no sense in both of us missing it.”
“I don’t want to go without you.” Not only would Autumn feel like an ass for taking off on vacation while her best friend stayed behind to bury her grandmother, she did not want to go alone.
“You have to go,” Summer protested, opening the top zipper of her suitcase and pulling out a wrapped package with a big yellow bow on top. “You need this, Autumn.”
She handed her the present and Autumn was speechless, torn between wasting the vacation her friend had spent a lot of money on, and having a panic attack because the idea of going alone terrified the ever-loving hell out of her. She barely traveled out of state, let alone the country. She felt ridiculous and selfish for even thinking about herself when her best friend’s grandma just died and Summer looked like she was about to lose her shit. Autumn was pretty sure if she started to argue with her about not going, that was exactly what would happen.
“Can I help you?” the stewardess asked, coming up behind Summer.
“Yes. I need off the plane. I just found out my grandma died.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Of course. Come with me.”
The stewardess started to lead Summer away and her friend paused long enough to give her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. “Go to Cyprus, Autumn. And promise me you’ll do everything I have planned while you’re there.”
She wasn’t sure what Summer had planned, it was supposed to be a surprise, but tears were rolling down her friend’s cheeks and all she could do was dumbly nod, stunned this was happening. Summer took off after the stewardess and Autumn was left standing in Row 34 Seat C with her birthday present clutched tightly in her hands. Sitting back down, she wondered if there was enough room to put her head between her legs, because she could feel a panic attack coming on.
Sixteen hours. That was precisely how long she was going to be stuck on the plane. Just the thought of it made her stomach churn, anxiety kicking her heart into her throat. Autumn pressed the overhead button for assistance and could imagine the poor stewardesses playing rock, paper, scissors to determine which one of them was going to have to go back there and deal with her. The brunette with the inverted bob must have lost, because a moment later, she was standing beside Autumn.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes. I’m sorry to bother you, but can I please have…anything with rum in it?”
“Ma’am, it’s six a.m.”
“Well, it’s one p.m. in Cyprus.” How can anyone even argue with that kind of logic? Autumn gestured the woman a little closer and all but growled when she leaned down. “Don’t judge me, lady. I promise you do not want me doing this flight sober.”
“Welcome to the Island of Love!”
Autumn was greeted by an overly cheerful man giving her an elegant bow as she stumbled off the plane and squinted into the blinding sun. Must. Find. Sunglasses. She stopped in the middle of the tarmac and began rifling through her purse when someone slammed into her from behind. The impact sent her flying forward. She almost kissed the pavement when a muscular arm caught her around the waist and lifted her up before setting her back to rights.
“Whoa… You all right there? You stopped short on me.”
Great. Doucher. How did this guy get behind her when he’d exited the plane first? Despite his handsome face and gold-flecked eyes, she wasn’t buying what this guy was selling.
“Are you following me?” Autumn was not an angry drunk by nature—and yes, she was still sauced—but she had no problem calling a spade a spade and confrontation certainly wasn’t an issue for her. Especially not when she was tired, irritable, and had to pee, because there wasn’t enough booze in the world to conquer her claustrophobia enough to get her inside an airplane bathroom.
Autumn wasn’t sure which part of what she’d said was so amusing, but Doucher laughed, flashing her a set of disarming dimples. “You caught me.” He raised his hands guiltily. “Stalking snarky redheads is totally my thing. You dropped these, by the way.” He reached into his back pocket and handed Autumn her sunglasses. “They fell out of your purse when you stumbled off the plane. Enjoy the Island of Love, sweetheart.”
She wasn’t so wasted that she didn’t recognize the sarcastic endearment. Still sore from the eye-fuck he’d given her on the plane, Autumn opened her mouth to give this guy a piece of her mind, but he turned and walked away, blending in with the crowd of passengers all heading toward customs. Despite herself, her eyes took a slow descent from his wide, muscular shoulders to that trim, narrow waist. Nor could she help noticing the way his dark, distressed jeans hung low on his hips, hugging his ass like they were made just for him.
Well, shit. She was no better than he was, standing here staring at his backside like he was nothing more than a piece of meat. But man, was he a fine piece of USDA Prime. The way he walked, the fluid grace and control he had over a body that size… Sometimes a girl could just watch a man move and know that guy can fuck.
Autumn expected him to look back. Maybe even give her another one of those parting dimple-flashing grins. But to her surprise, he didn’t even cast her a fleeting glance. Perhaps her powers of perception were a bit skewed by her inebriation. Oh, well...she had to pee.
“Next!”
The customs guy from hell called out as Autumn finally approached the desk. Her passport was open, her declaration papers were filled out and ready. And now she really needed to pee. The man behind the counter looked at her as he studied the passport, his gaze shifting from her to the papers then back to her as if he couldn’t decide if the redhead in the photo was her or not.
“Your hair is longer.”
Autumn bit her tongue to keep from saying something that would probably get her strip searched.
“I like it,” he added.
She didn’t care. She just wanted this guy to stamp her passport so she could make a mad dash to the bathroom before there was a clean-up in aisle seven. The sign above the door down the hall taunted her as she shifted her weight back and forth. She hadn’t done the pee-pee dance since she was five years old. It was a mystery why it helped, but she’d have danced a freaking jig if it would get her through the damn line.
“Enjoy your stay on the Island of Love.”
The man gave her passport his stamp of approval and handed her papers back. Autumn stuffed them in her purse and ran down the hall like an Olympian star athlete. The door was in sight and she was singing hallelujah when it swung open, abruptly cutting her off. Unable to stop in time, she plowed into a wall of muscle, and for the second time today, arms wrapped around her waist, keeping her upright. Only this time she was hit with a blast of the most delicious spicy, masculine scent. It was like crack to her senses…pure nose candy as she stood there with her face buried in some poor guy’s chest. The wings of her Monarch miraculously healed and must have had a whole slew of babies as the flutt
ering going on in her stomach sent an ache right between her legs.
“What the hell?”
His startled words echoed her sentiments exactly as the guy none-too-gently peeled Autumn off him like a cling-on and set her a cautious step back. That unexpected spark of arousal firing in her veins got a quick dousing when she glanced up and realized who she’d just plowed into. You’ve got to be kidding me. Doucher…
His dark brow ticked up, but she couldn’t tell if he was surprised or annoyed. Either way, he wasn’t smiling, and without that flash of dimple to soften the hard angles of his handsome face, the man standing before her was surprisingly intimidating.
“Are you following me?” he asked, with the same irritated tone Autumn had laid on him not even sixty minutes ago.
Yep, he was pissed. Either that or he was an incredibly convincing smartass, albeit a very hot, wonderful smelling smartass—but an ass all the same. Autumn took a little deeper breath, stealing one last whiff before letting him have it. The estrogen flooding her system was making her high—or maybe she was still drunk, which was also a very real possibility.
“I’m not following you. I’m trying to go to the bathroom.”
“In the men’s room?” He crossed his arms over his muscular chest, completely blocking the entrance.
“No, jackass. In the women’s.” She pointed to the sign of the triangle-shaped stick person above his head. Those uniquely colored eyes followed her finger. Seeing the blush stain his cheeks was almost worth peeing her pants, because if she started to laugh, that was exactly what would have happened. “Apparently, someone can’t read. Either that, or you’re a perv and my original accusation stands. Are you following me?”
Conceding her the victory, he stepped out of the way and held the door open for her to pass through. If she didn’t have to go so badly, Autumn would have gladly stood there and razzed him about using the women’s restroom a while longer. Now that she was in there, she could understand the confusion. The bathroom was a single stall design, but it was still funny as hell seeing that look on Doucher’s face. She closed the door behind her and locked it. By the time she came back out, he was gone, and Autumn would not admit to the small pang of disappointment that pinched her chest at the discovery.
Chapter Two
Balen wished he could say that getting concussed with a suitcase was the worst part of his day, but he’d just spent the last sixteen-hours hard as a rock and acutely aware of the gorgeous redhead two rows behind him. He wasn’t accustomed to women giving him the cold shoulder. If she could have seen the look on her face when he’d invited her to step past him on the plane—priceless.
He’d have sworn to God his balls had gotten frostbite. Sadly, her snarky attitude was kind of refreshing and a little endearing. What man doesn’t love a challenge? The chase, the thrill of the hunt. Given the chance, something told him this woman would have given Balen a run for his money. She had a sharp tongue, but that didn’t bother him. It only proved she knew how to use it, and wouldn’t he love to have her using that tongue on him.
It was a good thing he didn’t intimidate easily, because that woman could have sent a man’s dick crawling up his own ass. His fondness for redheads had gotten him into trouble more than once. And it didn’t take a genius to surmise that woman was trouble with a capital T. But holy hell was she gorgeous. He’d never seen a shade of red so dark it almost looked black. He’d thought it was until she stepped off that plane and into the sun—well, tripped actually. Come to think of it, she might have been drunk.
And damn, those eyes… Oceanic blue—his favorite color. What he wouldn’t give for a chance to drown in them. It was a not-so-well-known fact that less than one percent of the world’s population had red hair and blue eyes. Balen wondered if she knew what a rarity she was. Just like the elusive great white buffalo. Not that he’d have told her that. In his experience, he’d never met a woman who appreciated being likened to a buffalo, and he suspected the feisty ginger would be no exception.
A smile tugged the corner of his mouth as he watched his little tatanka duck into the bathroom and then slam the door behind her. Despite his exhaustion, he was still hard as a rock from her running that hot-as-hell body into his. He hadn’t seen her coming. It was a good thing she was tiny or she would have knocked him on his ass. And now that he thought about it, Balen would love to see that girl coming—again, and again, and again…
Glancing down, he spotted a piece of paper lying on the floor by his feet. He picked it up and skimmed the page—her declaration paper to enter Cyprus. That woman really needed to keep better track of her shit. First her sunglasses and now this? According to the form, her name was Autumn Harris. She was going to be here for seven days, and listed at the bottom was the address where she was staying. How convenient was that?
Balen was waiting outside the restroom, more than happy for the excuse to talk to her again, when his cell went off. Fishing the device from his pocket, he checked the caller ID and muttered a curse and briefly considered ignoring the call, but that’s what he’d been doing for the last week he’d been partying it up at Big Sky. It was time to face the music, though Balen was pretty sure he’d heard the song before—same old tune, different day.
Pocketing Autumn’s form, he swiped his thumb across the screen and moved down the hall where he could talk in private. “Bradford. Hey, man. How’s it going?” he asked with false cheer.
“The fact that I’m calling you for the seventh time in as many days should be the answer to that question. Have you seen YouTube?”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Balen closed his eyes and exhaled a sigh. “No, but I’m guessing you have.”
“What the hell, Balen? We talked about this. You’re supposed to be cleaning up your image. Instead, you’ve got an amateur porn video popping up on goddamn YouTube!”
“Hey, in my defense, I didn’t know anyone was filming that.” It was a horse-shit excuse and he knew it. But it was the best he could muster. “I’ll talk to Connor. He’ll shut it down and get the video pulled.”
“Are you trying to self-destruct? Because I have no intention of sinking with your goddamn ship, Balen. Sex Wax called and they’re threatening to pull your sponsorship. Sex Wax. A company that has sex in the name of their product is even threatening to drop you.”
In all fairness, Sex Wax wasn’t as exciting as it sounded, though Balen refrained from pointing that out since he didn’t think it would help his case at the moment.
“Do you have any idea how much money you’re going to lose if they cancel your contract? You’ve got to rein it in. Clean up your image, man. Connor and I can’t keep doing damage control for you.”
“Look on the bright side. I make your job more interesting.”
“You give me a goddamn ulcer is what you do. I should have bought stock in Pepto-Bismol when I became your agent.”
Bradford wasn’t just his agent, they were good friends—which was probably why he felt the freedom to rip him a new asshole. Admittedly, Balen hadn’t been easy to handle lately, but he wasn’t in the mood for another lecture either. He was well aware of what social media was saying about him. Most of it was lies… Well, some of it. And now this unfortunate video incident was going viral. Fuck me.
“It’s been eight months. It’s time to move on, man.”
“I have moved on—a lot. Case in point, my alleged sex tape. And who knows, it probably isn’t even me on that thing.”
“It absolutely is you, Balen. And that’s not what I mean by ‘move on’. Meet a nice girl. Settle down.”
Nice girls? He thought he’d found one of those once. He’d been wrong. “You realize how asinine that sentence is, don’t you? You and I both know ‘nice girls’ don’t hang in the circles I run.”
“Then create an illusion that you’ve found love, that you’re happy and finally settling down. I don’t know, Balen. Just fix this. You can’t let what happened with Monica ruin you. She’s not worth it.”
A vacation…wouldn’t that be nice.
The villa was more beautiful than Autumn had imagined, with the most amazing view of the Mediterranean Sea. A pang of loneliness pinched her chest at the thought of Summer and how she wished her friend could have been here to share this with her. After taking a quick tour of the two-bedroom villa, she put her suitcase in the master suite and opened the French doors leading to a patio overlooking the beach. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the fresh sea air into her lungs before turning back and dropping onto the bed. She closed her eyes and lay there listening to the lulling sound of the waves lapping against the shore. The briny humidity tempted Autumn to lick her lips and taste the sea’s salty kiss.
Now that she’d arrived, she was thankful to Summer for insisting she still come. She needed this vacation, needed the time away to regroup and reevaluate her life. Thirty was a birthday milestone, marking how far she’d come and how far she still had to go. There had been more failures than successes along the way, but this was also a turning point—a new leg of the race, and she was determined to finish strong. There weren’t many people who escaped their twenties unscathed, but there were a lot of life lessons learned in the midst of those mistakes, lessons that would hopefully make Autumn’s thirties smoother sailing.
No more dwelling on the past. She was looking forward to mimosas on the beach, and getting sand in her bikini. But first, she needed to call Summer and check in to see how she was holding up and let her know she’d arrived.