Landing the Air Marshal (Snowpocalypse)

by Jennifer Blackwood

  “Very true. It’s probably good we’re going our separate ways tomorrow.”

  She frowned. “Not the word I would use.”

  She took another swipe at her ear. This subconscious gesture seemed to occur more now that she’d lost the other earring. He wanted to know what significance they held for her, but didn’t feel it was his place to pry. “Although, I think I’ll definitely be working on my time management skills when it comes to relationships.”

  It’s like she ripped his words right from his chest. Shit, he didn’t have time for relationships, either. Maybe he needed to reevaluate once he got back to Charleston. Something about Abby’s penchant for rules, the passion that radiated from every damn inch of her skin, did something to unfurl his own.

  “I’m glad my powers of persuasion worked on you in the airplane. Would be a shame for you to travel back to California unsatisfied.”

  “Your powers of persuasion damn near killed me this weekend. Seriously, do you have a well that you tap into for excess energy? I need to learn your ways.”

  “Being around you does that to me.”

  Abby burst out laughing. “Mr. Michaels, you are an endless supply of great lines.” She paused to take a sip of her cocoa. “And if it came from anyone else but you, I might throw my drink in their face.”

  “Rightly so,” he agreed. “But I think you need to have more trust in men. Especially ones who love westerns and making snow angels.”

  “I’ll make sure to do that when the opportunity arises again.” And with that, a fleeting look of sadness crossed her face, but it was quickly replaced with a smile.

  “Damn, I wish we had more time.”

  “I have a lot of wishes at the moment,” she said.

  “Yeah?” Gage caught her reflection in the glass and smiled.

  “Mmhmm. Like, that this weekend would last longer. Or maybe that I could spend an entire year traveling the world,” she said.

  He quirked his brow, remembering just how well she traveled on an aircraft.

  “Okay, not the traveling part,” she admitted, “but the destinations. Something about going different places, seeing gorgeous scenery, houses I could never dream to afford.” She motioned to her surroundings. “I get to do this for a living, and every day is a new adventure, but I also want to see the simpler parts. The ordinary, everyday moments that are magical.”

  There was so much passion in her response. Her eyes lit up, and her speech picked up. “And once I get the promotion—” She paused. “If I get the promotion, then I’ll finally have some more freedom about the sets we pick, the places I go.”

  “Then promise it to yourself. Put it in writing.” He filled his lungs with a deep breath and leaned in close to the window, expelling his breath onto the glass. When a fog had collected, he took Abby’s hand and guided it to the window. “Here. Write it right here.”

  She giggled and started to protest, but he held her hand there, not relenting.

  With her index finger between his middle finger and thumb, he helped write out: I, Abby Winters, promise to be true to my wishes.

  “This is silly,” she said, still laughing.

  “I don’t doubt you will get that raise. Not for a damn second. I’ve known you for two days and can tell your boss would make the biggest mistake of his life if he didn’t give it to you.”

  “I appreciate your faith in me. But my coworker just might get it. It tends to be the good ol’ boys club at my office, and even if I am more experienced, it might not make a difference. I think my luck has worn out.” She took another absentminded swipe at her ear.

  Gage clenched his jaw and gripped his coffee mug. What kind of world did he live in where a capable, well-educated woman still had to struggle with this? What did that mean for Emily when she was finally old enough to work? The thought made him sick. That the elite education wouldn’t mean shit because she didn’t have a penis.

  And what was this whole thing about luck? What did that have to do with the hard work she’d put in? “Is this about the four-leaf clover earring?”

  He looked at her reflection on the glass as her lips curled into a frown. Shit. He’d struck a chord with that one. But it was hard not to notice when she’d fingered the fleshy lobe of her ear all night.

  She let out a deep breath and said, “Yes. It was a present from my dad. My last gift from him.”

  Well, fuck. He didn’t know they were a gift from her dead father. Way to ruin the mood, shithead. “I’m so sorry. We can search for it again if you want.”

  “I already did. It’s not here.” She let out a sigh and stared at the view of the city, the corners of her mouth pinching together. “It feels like I lost a part of him, honestly. I know it’s just a material possession, but it was all I had.”

  He wrapped a protective arm around her, even though he couldn’t shield her from this kind of pain. She leaned against him, and words poured out, about a fire, and how her dad had gotten both her and her sister Ella out of the house but a piece of ceiling had fallen down on him when he went to save their dog. They’d lost everything in that fire. The only reason she had the earrings was because she’d worn them to bed that night. She hadn’t taken them off since.

  And now a lump was in Gage’s throat. He’d give anything to take the brunt of her pain. To take the sadness out of her eyes. “I wish there was some way we could get it back. I can put a call in to the airline to see if they have it in lost and found.” Maybe the first class flight attendants picked it up. There was always a chance.

  She let out a heavy sigh. “It’s okay. I’ll find something to replace it.” She unhooked his arm from her waist and gave a sad smile. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

  He nodded, not sure what to say except, “I need to go make a call. I’ll be out in the hall if you need me.” He figured he’d give her a few minutes to get her thoughts together. It always took him a little bit whenever he thought about his buddies from his tour in Iraq. At least he had his family to fall back on when he was feeling shitty. From what she said, she didn’t seem like she really had a good support system in California. Maybe, just maybe, he could stack his schedule to fly out to the West Coast to check up on her once in a while…

  Stop thinking like that, asshole. Had it really been so long since he’d been with someone that he was starting to get clingy? Hell no. He would be completely unaffected when he had to leave tomorrow. Even if he wished this weekend would never end.

  Chapter Twelve

  Gage closed the door behind him and continued into the hallway to call his family. He was on a goddamn mission to tell his mom that he was no longer participating in her blind date hijinks. If he learned anything from this weekend, it was that he was meeting all the wrong girls. All except for Abby.

  His gut clenched at the thought of her family being ripped apart when she was so young, something he’d never even begin to understand.

  Scrubbing his hands over his face, he tried to shake off the melancholy feeling that trickled in, souring the good mood. When he finished his call, he’d find some way to cheer her up. He didn’t really have much to offer besides his arms to wrap around her. She needed more than just the physical, though, and he wanted so badly to give it to her.

  He shook his head. He needed to stop thinking like that. At least he had one more night with her. One more night to chill on the couch with her—something he hadn’t done since he’d actually considered having girlfriends.

  He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he reached the elevator, and frowned at the five missed calls he’d received since they’d been back at the penthouse, two from Jill and three from his mom. What the hell? He dialed his voicemail and put his phone to his ear.

  “Gage, I’m sure Mama is going to talk your ear off, so I hope I’m not too late. Vanessa is pregnant. Wanted you to hear it from me before you got the third degree about baby making and all that shit.”

  His phone dropped to his side, and he stared at his reflection in the mirr
or in the hallway. What. The. Fuck. Vanessa was pregnant?

  Wow. Vanessa. The person he’d shared his bed with for five years. Having a fucking baby.

  He was truly happy for her. His feelings for her were long gone, with the help of time and a string of other women in her wake. But look at her now. She was starting a family. It could have been him. If he hadn’t chosen his job over her. It could have been their baby. Instead, it was his best friend’s kid. With the person he was supposed to marry. He was suddenly feeling like this whole bachelor life was for the birds. He was thirty-fucking-two. Everyone around him was having kids. And what was he doing? He was too busy working to even attempt a relationship. Hell, a two-night stand was a stretch.

  He pulled the phone back up to his ear and listened to the next couple messages. Just as Jill had promised, it was his mother, laying on the guilt about not producing a grandchild for her yet. He rolled his eyes.

  He could practically hear the desperation in her voice. She wanted more grandbabies. But, fuck, a kid? Gage didn’t even have time for a puppy. He didn’t even have time for a dating life. His work needed to settle down before he could even think about that. And yet, deep down, he knew he wanted one someday.

  He made his way farther down the hallway, took a seat in the sitting area, and called his mom. She picked up on the third ring. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite son.”

  “I’m your only son.” He smiled tightly. Even if he was still in shock about the news about Vanessa, his mom could always tease out a smile from him.

  He peered outside, and it seemed like the snow had stopped. There was a fighting chance all flights would be on time tomorrow.

  “That doesn’t mean you have to be my favorite. Did you get my voicemail?”

  “I got all three. And your texts.”

  A heavy sigh huffed in his ear. She didn’t bother to hide her disappointment that the baby wasn’t his. “I was thinking if we did two dinners a week, you have a better chance at meeting someone. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

  “Mom. We’ve been over this. I appreciate the offer, but I’d like to find my own woman. On my own time.” Even as he said it, he wondered what time? He’d found a woman he was interested in, but again his job got in the way. Not to mention distance.

  “So you’ll meet someone in an airport,” she deadpanned. “You know how I feel about those flight attendants.” She went on to tell him every opinion that she’d ever formed about that profession.

  He really didn’t need this right now. Not when the news had thrown him off his game. He decided to go the coward’s route. He made a static noise and then said, “I—hu—I think you’re breaking up. Mom? Mom?” And then he turned his phone off, just to make sure he wouldn’t have to deal with that for the rest of the night.

  Right. That was real mature. He knocked his head against the high-backed chair and tried to focus on something else. Anything else. But all he could think about was people his age were settling down and creating families.

  Enough of the fucking wallowing. He’d get back to Abby and enjoy the remainder of the night. Hell, he’d give her the best night ever, because that was one thing he could ensure.

  With the power back on in the building, and the elevators now working, he decided to take a trip to the twenty-four-hour coffee shop downstairs. The doorman had raved about the scones their first night. Abby looked like the type that would like one of those. Hell, if he knew of a sushi place nearby he’d get her some of that raw fish shit, too, just to cheer her up.

  He pushed off the chair and made his way down to the lower level. The warm smell of cinnamon and coffee wafted out of the shop as he opened the doors. A pretty blonde barista smiled up at him with glossed ruby-red lips as he walked up to the register.

  “What can I get ya?” A hint of a southern accent tangled with her words.

  “Two lattes and two pumpkin scones.”

  “Great night for something to warm you up.” She lifted a suggestive brow.

  Normally he was all over flirting with hot women, but she did nothing for him. No, he wasn’t even remotely interested in the barista because all he could think about was getting back to the penthouse and back to Abby.

  Shit. Had she ruined him for every other girl? What a ridiculous thought. Just because he had sex with her a handful of times did not mean that he had developed feelings. This would fade as soon as he boarded his flight tomorrow. Hopefully.

  …

  Abby’s breath caught as Gage breezed through the door thirty minutes later. He set down the cups and to-go bags on the hall table and unzipped his jacket. His shirt strained against his muscular chest, and Abby momentarily forgot that she was in this weird winter time vortex where she actually got to spend an entire weekend with this man, and she’d just bared her soul to him.

  It had taken a few minutes, and a pep talk in the mirror, but she was feeling much better. Back to the Abby who was ready to spend her last night with Gage. Then, come tomorrow, she’d return to the hustle and bustle of her job, holding on tightly to these precious memories.

  She glanced down at the bag, the aroma of coffee and sweet spices filling the suite. “What did you bring me?” Even though they’d had hot chocolate less than an hour ago, she’d never turn down a hot beverage, especially coffee.

  “A latte and a pumpkin scone.”

  She groaned. Pumpkin was her favorite. When autumn and winter rolled around, she indulged in everything and anything with the vegetable. “This is perfect. How did you know I’d like this?”

  “You just seemed like the type.”

  “Are you profiling me?”

  He smirked, this time it was a genuine one. “Maybe.”

  “And what else does your profiling say about me?”

  “That you probably are mentally making a list, as we speak, of things you need to do tomorrow.” He lifted another finger. “And that when you’re nervous, you cross and uncross your legs.” His middle finger lifted. “And that you have a hard time controlling yourself around men you find attractive.”

  They started to make their way back to the bedroom. After all, it was well past eleven, and with the amount of quality time she’d spent with Gage today, the pedometer on her phone should read well over twenty thousand steps. She turned around and swatted him in the chest. “I do not have a hard time controlling myself around men.” She thought back to her reaction to him all weekend. “Just certain ones.”

  “I rest my case.” A smug smile played at his lips, and he set his coffee on the nightstand and hopped onto the bed. He leaned on his pillow, folding his arms behind his head.

  “Well, I can profile people, too, you know.”

  “Can you? Did you do FBI training?”

  “No, but I live in L.A.” Reading people was an important part of her job. Like knowing when her boss was about to blow a gasket. Or how that grimace in Jeremy’s face wasn’t actually constipation, but him contemplating his takeover of the company.

  “Fair enough. Go ahead, sweetheart. Profile away.” He made a grand, sweeping gesture.

  She tapped her fingers to her lips and feigned that she was in deep thought. Really, she thought she had this guy pegged. “You’re a family man at heart even if you play it off like you’re some lone wolf. You have a soft spot for women in need. And the thought of leaving tomorrow is driving you crazy.” She paused and took a sip of her latte. “How did I do?”

  “Ever thought of joining the bureau?” But even as he said it, his gaze darkened, like something she’d said really hit hard. Maybe he was still missing his family.

  He sat on the bed, and the way the track lighting arched around the line of his jaw, it was like he was a divine force. Maybe he was. He’d restored her faith this weekend, something she’d lost so long ago.

  Abby hopped off the bed and unearthed her DSLR camera from her travel bag. It was just too good of a shot to pass up.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Stay right there. The
lighting is perfect,” she said, snapping a picture. This would be for her. To remember the best two nights of her life.

  He smiled and turned to her, giving his telltale dimpled grin, and heat unfurled in her stomach.

  She glanced down at the screen of her camera, at the muscles of his arms bulging against the fabric of his shirt. She let out a ragged breath as she remembered the muscles in his forearms flexing together as he pumped into her. Where the hell would she find a man like this? Maybe she could put up a craigslist ad:

  Seeking: Man with chiseled features, deep voice, that can fuck me into next Tuesday.

  Um, yeah, she might get a bunch of weird messages if she put that. Let’s face it, this was it for her. At the age of twenty-five she was officially ruined.

  Really, she needed to stop thinking of him as gone already. She still had tonight.

  The tiniest of voices piped up in the back of her mind. What if it didn’t have to be just tonight? They both traveled a lot, why couldn’t they meet up at some point? Abby had thousands of airline miles stacked up—there was no reason they couldn’t cross paths again. That was, if he wanted to.

  Did she want to? Yes, because not only was Gage sexy as hell, he was also fun. She enjoyed his company. The perfect travel companion. Maybe she’d suggest that to him tomorrow morning.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Abby absentmindedly ran her fingers along each notch of Gage’s abdomen as they lay in bed. She was teetering on the edge of sleep, almost in a dreamlike state. They’d resumed watching Blazing Saddles, and she’d seen this movie so many times that she could almost quote every line.

  The airline app on her phone pinged, and she looked at the notification on the screen. “Looks like my flight is on time tomorrow,” she said. The implication of her statement said much more. We only have a couple more hours together. This sucks ass. Who the hell can hook me up with Hermione’s Time Turner watch?

  “Yeah, same with mine.” He frowned and thumbed his finger across the remote.