How to Rebuild_A.K. Evans

by Evans, A. K.

  I didn’t know if it was a belated Christmas gift, but the next thing I knew, all the passengers had boarded the flight, and the middle seat was still empty.

  I had more than five hours sitting next to this woman, and I was a patient man. But I wasn’t sure I’d last that long not taking the chance to get to know her.

  What kind of cruel world did I live in?

  It was just my luck that I’d end up in the same row as this guy and that nobody would be occupying the seat between us.

  I’d been through a whirlwind of emotions over the last several hours, and the last thing I needed for the next couple of hours was to battle with myself over the fact that the hottest guy I’d ever seen in my life was sitting a seat away from me.

  Damn, he was everything.

  He was tall and had a neatly-groomed beard that framed a full set of lips. His dark green eyes were intense but had a kindness about them that knocked my socks off. And the sweatshirt he’d pushed up on his arms exposed the ink on them.

  Then there was the way he walked. There was a swagger to it; he exuded confidence.

  But what I liked most was the way he had been looking at me. He looked at me like he wanted to do very bad things to me. Very bad things in a very good way.

  And at that moment, it was probably exactly what I needed.

  Unfortunately, my life was spiraling out of control. I’d spent my time at the airport trying to make sense of the situation I’d woken up to this morning. All I felt was devastation. That’s what was consuming me right now—complete and utter devastation.

  Something—I didn’t know yet what—had happened with the launch of the holiday body products and the winter eyeshadow palette. While I never wanted anyone to be dissatisfied with any of my products, I could have accepted the holiday body products being a flop for the reasons customers were giving us. People didn’t like the scent, which struck me as odd. I thought they were great. But since people had different tastes, I would have overlooked that.

  What I wasn’t okay with was whatever was happening with the eyeshadow. Customers were having physical reactions to it. Their eyes. Shit, I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew I needed to find out before this went from bad to worse. It was already worse than I could have imagined.

  After watching all three vlogger videos, I made the foolish mistake of reading the videos’ comments. I had hoped these were three isolated incidences. Several hundred people were experiencing the same issue. And the comments section didn’t end with people merely giving their experience with the product. They were calling me a sellout—a fraud.

  The thought that the standards I’d set for myself and my brand were being called into question by some of my loyal customers made me sick. That people believed some vicious rumor that I didn’t care and started using products that were not of the same quality to make a higher profit was crushing.

  Flynn Beauty meant everything to me. I’d worked so hard to get where I was. The last thing I was going to do was jeopardize all the hard work I’d done to build my brand. I’d never, never do that.

  “Excuse me?” the deep, masculine voice of the man sitting beside me said.

  My head snapped in his direction. God, even his voice was incredible.

  “Yes?” I replied.

  “I don’t mean to pry, but I couldn’t help but notice you were upset back at the gate,” he started. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  What was I supposed to say? I wasn’t a liar. But I didn’t know this guy.

  Instead of giving him words, I shook my head.

  “Boyfriend?” he asked.

  My eyes widened. Oh no. Is that what this man thought? Is that what anyone who looked at me in the airport thought? Did they think I was some crazed woman crying over a boyfriend? That was hardly the case. I hadn’t had a boyfriend in quite some time. Part of that was by default—life had gotten out of control busy after my last relationship ended, and there was not a lot of time left to date. The other part was that my previous relationship had done a number on me, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to hop into another.

  That said, in any other circumstance than the one I found myself in this morning, the man beside me seemed like he’d be the perfect guy to help a girl meet some of her needs. Of course, that was just me talking because I’d never really been the kind of girl who could do that. Maybe that had been my problem. Perhaps I should have considered trying that out sometime.

  Now? Now I had plenty of other things to occupy my mind.

  I shook my head again and answered, “No. Not a boyfriend.”

  He nodded his understanding. Following a beat of silence, he offered, “We’ve got quite a few hours on this plane. I’m happy to listen if you want to talk about it.”

  I swallowed hard, loving the sound of his voice, and returned, “I don’t even know you.”

  “Maybe that’s a good thing,” he suggested. “If you’ve got something on your mind and you need to talk about it, it might help to discuss it with someone who has an unbiased opinion. I can be that person for you for the next few hours.”

  Could I do that?

  Looking away from the mystery man beside me and out the window of the plane, I wondered if it might help to share my troubles with a stranger. It wasn’t like I had to give him the specifics of my situation. But it could help me deal with all the anxiety and stress I’d been feeling for the last few hours. And at least it would give me an excuse to look at him and not seem like a total creep.

  There had to be rules, though.

  “Okay,” I declared.

  “Okay?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

  I nodded. “But there are rules,” I warned him.

  “Rules?” he repeated.

  “Yes. No names… or at least, we need to come up with a name that is not our real first name,” I instructed.

  The sexy stranger narrowed his eyes at me. “Done. What else?” he wondered.

  “Just this flight,” I said. “After we get off this plane, that’s it. Nothing else. We go back to life as it was before. It’ll be as though this never happened.”

  I vaguely noticed his hand ball into a fist before he agreed, “Okay.”

  I smiled at him, the first I’d done all day, and watched something change in his face. I didn’t know what it was, so I ignored it. Then I asked, “So, what should I call you?”

  “Deck.”

  “Dick?” I repeated.

  He laughed and corrected me. “Deck. D-E-C-K.”

  I bit my lip. “Sorry,” I lamented.

  Still chuckling, his eyes on my lips, he insisted, “It’s okay. And what is your name?”

  I thought for a brief moment about it, and though I was adamant about not giving him my real name, for some reason, I wanted this man to have something real from me. So, I declared, “Flynn.”

  He grinned. “Nice to meet you, Flynn,” he said as he extended his hand to mine.

  Looking down at his hand, I couldn’t deny that I’d thought about it touching me. It was big, calloused, and looked like a working man’s hand. I reached out, put my hand in his, and returned, “Nice to meet you, too, Deck.”

  My eyes returned to his, and I found him staring at the connection of our hands. He eventually lifted his gaze to mine and slowly let go of my hand. I didn’t know if he’d done it on purpose or if I was just hyperaware of everything about him, but I loved the way his thumb gently stroked along the inner part of my wrist as he loosened his hold.

  I needed a minute to pull myself together. Once I did that, I asked, “Do you believe in good and bad luck?”

  Deck seemed surprised by my question. He thought on it a moment before he answered, “I guess that depends on what we’re talking about.”

  “How so?” I wondered.

  “Well, I guess some of the random things that happen feel a bit like luck,” he started. “Like this, right now. Not only was I lucky enough to sit down at the airport waiting to board this flight and see a gorg
eous woman waiting to board the same plane, but I also ended up sitting in the same row with her. Feels a bit lucky to me.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “And it just so happens that the middle seat was empty, right?” I teased.

  He nodded. “Exactly. That just feels a bit like luck.”

  “Okay, so that’s what you’d consider good luck then? What about bad luck?” I asked.

  “Well, good luck was seeing you, sitting next to you, and talking to you. Bad luck is you telling me that I have to forget this ever happened once we step off this plane,” he shared.

  I couldn’t say I disagreed with him. But the reality was that my life was unraveling right before my eyes. Not only was it not fair to drag someone into something that was bound to face lots of publicity over the coming months, but the truth was also that I was embarrassed by it.

  This was failure, wasn’t it?

  “Sorry,” I murmured.

  Deck didn’t respond, and the silence stretched between us for a few minutes. Suddenly, he called, “Flynn?”

  God, his voice. I wanted to hear him call me Elise.

  “Yeah?”

  “Was it bad luck that made you cry this morning?” he asked, his voice reaching a level of tenderness I didn’t think was possible.

  Was it? I didn’t know.

  I tipped my head to the side and countered, “Have you ever worked hard at something only to have someone question your work?”

  Deck burst out laughing. I was captivated by the sight and sound of it. He was so incredibly handsome.

  When he settled down, his shining eyes burned into mine, and he admitted, “You obviously don’t know what industry I work in. I’m an—”

  “Don’t,” I cut him off, holding my hand up between us. “Don’t tell me where you work or what you do.”

  “Why not?” he asked.

  Because it’s too personal, and it’ll tempt me to look you up, I thought.

  “We haven’t even exchanged real names,” I started. “We can’t do that. It’s another rule.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me again and noted, “It seems like you’re making up rules as you go along.”

  “I am,” I admitted.

  He stared at me in disbelief for a second before he chuckled and shook his head at me. “Okay, fine. No job details. I’ll just say that I’ve been working in an industry for a long time now, years, and it wasn’t uncommon, especially in the beginning, for people to question my work. Now, I’ve proven myself and my talents, so it doesn’t happen nearly as often as it did in the beginning.”

  “How did you deal with it?” I pressed.

  “How did I deal with what? Someone doubting me?” he returned.

  I dipped my chin. “Yeah.”

  Deck looked at me like I was crazy for asking such a question and declared, “I believed in myself.”

  “That’s it?” I questioned him.

  “Yeah. I know what kind of work I do, and I’m confident in my skills,” he explained. “There’s no reason to doubt myself.”

  “So, there’s never been a situation where you’ve made a mistake?”

  “Of course,” he replied.

  Wow. It seemed apparent that those situations were the ones I’d have been referring to, but evidently, I needed to spell it out.

  “That’s what I’m asking about,” I clarified. “The situations where you believe you’ve done something wrong or maybe it was an accident. What do you do in those situations? Were you ever worried you’d ruin your career?”

  Deck assessed me briefly without responding. I didn’t want to crack under the pressure of his intense scrutiny, but it had been a long day already, and anything was possible. Luckily, he didn’t take too long to think about whatever was going through his mind.

  “No, Flynn. I was never worried about ruining my career,” he said gently.

  “Never?”

  He shook his head.

  “What did you do?” I wondered.

  “Apologize and accept the fact that I’m human,” he stated. “What else would I do?”

  I looked away and thought about his words. Deck made it sound so simple. Just apologize and move on. And while I knew that there was a strong likelihood that he was saying that because he genuinely believed it was the case, I had to wonder if he would have had different advice if he knew that my mistake—whatever it was—was harmful to people. God, what if people lost their vision?

  I swallowed hard, thinking about the worst possible outcome. I didn’t know what I’d do if this ended up being that bad.

  “I feel like I’ve done nothing to help you feel better about your situation,” Deck’s voice broke into my thoughts.

  I returned my attention to him and offered an apologetic look. “No, that’s not it,” I insisted. “I’m just… I learned about all of this nonsense this morning, so it’s still really fresh. I’m just not sure if it’s as easy as you’re making it seem. At least, not for my specific predicament.”

  “I don’t see why not,” he returned. “If you didn’t do something intentionally, then it should be that simple.”

  “I work in an industry where people expect me not to make a mistake,” I shared. “And in an industry like this, when you do screw up, it’s hard to come back from it.”

  Deck smiled at me. It was a brilliant white smile with perfect teeth against the dark hair of his beard. It was stunning.

  “That’s when you need to know how to rebuild their trust in you,” he declared.

  “I don’t know if I know how to do that,” I murmured.

  “Be genuinely apologetic. And be transparent moving forward.”

  I smiled back at him and said, “You’re a smart man, Deck.”

  He shrugged his shoulders and smirked at me. It was a cocky smirk. And I loved it.

  Of course, that was the precise moment my stomach decided to embarrass me and rumbled loudly. My hands flew to my stomach as my eyes widened. Deck’s eyes dropped to where my hands were crossed over my abdomen and asked, “Hungry?”

  I nervously bit my lip, feeling the flush hit my cheeks. That was mortifying.

  “I woke up to bad news this morning,” I explained. “My mind wasn’t on food.”

  Deck reached down and pulled a backpack from under the seat in front of him. He opened it up, fished around inside, and eventually held out various snacks to me, including crackers, granola bars, and pretzels.

  My eyes grew huge. “Wow. You don’t travel light, do you?” I asked.

  “It’s my mom,” he blurted.

  My brows pulled together. Did this guy, this man who was so well put together, live with his mother?

  “She’s never been on a plane before because she’s terrified of them,” he clarified. “I was visiting her and the rest of my family in New York for the holidays. My mom couldn’t help herself and insisted I needed this much food for the flight back home to Wyoming.”

  So he lived in Wyoming.

  I reached for a granola bar and said, “Lucky for me, I guess. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he returned gently.

  For the next several minutes, I sat there eating a granola bar this handsome stranger had given me and wished my current situation had been different. Of course, if I hadn’t woken up to the bad news that I did, it was likely I wouldn’t have missed my flight this morning.

  Good luck or bad luck? Parts were excellent, but I wondered if they came close to overshadowing or, at the very least, lessening the blow of the bad.

  After some time had passed, Deck asked, “So, were you visiting New York, or is New York home for you?”

  “New York was work for me,” I answered.

  “And Wyoming is home?” he pressed.

  “Wyoming is home,” I confirmed.

  For the next several seconds, Deck’s emerald green eyes penetrated my gaze. The look was so intense; it was as though I could feel him thinking.

  “Something tells me you aren’t going to let
me ask you what city you live in,” he muttered.

  “You can ask, but I’m not going to tell,” I replied.

  He nodded his head solemnly. “I had a feeling that was the case,” he said. Following a brief pause, he asked, “Are you the only one that’s allowed to make up the rules for this, or can I come up with one of my own?”

  “That depends on what it is,” I replied.

  “If we see each other ever again after this flight, and neither one of us is in a committed relationship, you agree to go on a date with me,” he declared.

  A date? This gorgeous man wanted to go on a date with me. I couldn’t say I wasn’t tempted to say screw the rules and beg him to kiss me right now.

  But I didn’t.

  Instead, I realized that the likelihood of us ever seeing each other again was slim to none. And because I believed that was the case, I promised, “Okay, Deck. You’ve got a deal. I’ll go out on a date with you if we ever run into each other again after we say goodbye to one another today.”

  “You know what this means, don’t you, Flynn?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No. What?”

  “I’m going to be wishing that sometime in the next few days or weeks, I have one of my luckiest days ever,” he said.

  I couldn’t help it. It had been a trying day, and that made me feel good. So, I replied, “I hope your wish comes true.”

  For the rest of the flight, Deck and I didn’t have a moment of silence. We kept our conversation on topics that wouldn’t allow us to reveal anything specific about ourselves, and I found that I was happy I had him for those few hours.

  Because when the plane touched down in Wyoming and we said goodbye at the baggage claim, all the bad stuff filtered back into my mind.

  It was time to get back to work and try to save my company.

  Breathe.

  I did that. Then I did it again.

  I was in my office at Flynn Beauty headquarters, preparing myself for the worst. I’d arrived only a few short minutes ago, and when I entered the building, I could feel the tension in the air. I felt it the minute I walked through the glass doors in the corporate office building and found Juliette sitting directly in front of me in the reception area.