Slick

by Kristi Pelton

  Slick

  Kristi Pelton

  Text Copyright © 2015 by Kristi Pelton

  All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a review who may quote brief passages for review purposes. If you are reading this book and you have not purchased it or won it in an author/published contest, this book has been pirated. Please delete and support the author by purchasing the ebook/book from one of its distributors.

  Editor: Lisa Loewen

  Cover Design: Sommer Stein of Perfect Pear

  Creative Covers

  Cover Photography: Michael Hallenbeck Photography

  Cover model: Paul Giardina

  Prologue

  Snow was coming down in white blankets over the city. I slid my feet into my Uggs and opened the door causing a flurry of flakes to melt instantly as they swirled indoors. After pulling the door closed, my feet trekked forward in the deep snow, crunching with every step. Four days had passed since I’d last checked the mail; well, this at least got me out of the house. Fresh air. Daylight. All good things. All things I needed.

  The stone encasing the metal box was slick with ice and a quick hit with my fist broke the thin layer, sending brittle shards into the snow below. My steamy breath filled the box when I looked in. The pile of mail was bigger than expected—mostly catalogs and mailers from companies I had previously asked to be removed from. I wanted no part of that life.

  As my feet found their way back through the silent powder, my heart fell as I spotted my gas bill. This one would be more expensive than the first month, and an anxiety settled through me as I wondered how much more. I shook off the worry…it didn’t matter. I was on my own. That was all that mattered. I’d make it somehow.

  Then I saw it. Slick, my nickname, on the mailing address of an unobtrusive white envelope. A gut-wrenching shudder rippled from my shoulders, over my chest and down through my abdomen. The puffs of air coming from my mouth suddenly ceased as I could no longer find my breath. The mail in my hand fell one item at a time into the snow, as my cold, partially numb fingers wouldn’t cooperate to open the envelope.

  Four years had passed since I’d heard that name—but yet he was still every other memory in my head. That wasn’t true…he was every memory. Finally the paper tore at the top of the envelope.

  Slick- Hey stranger. Heard you’re tying the knot. Just wanted to say I hope you’re happy. I’ll be in Portland ME, Cincinnati OH, Boston and Philly on the 11th, 12th, 15th and 17th. Not trying to cause problems. But here are tickets to each show if you want to come. I’d love to see you, Slick. Bodhi

  A pillow of steam shot from my mouth when my knees buckled. As I fingered through the tickets, I silently cursed myself for not checking the mail four days ago. What was the date? Had I missed them all? I fumbled for my phone to check what day it was. Damn, I had left it inside. Scrambling to my feet, I made a frantic dash for the house. What was the damn date? Silent tears began to streak my face as I searched for my phone.

  As if reading my mind, it began to ring, and I stood still listening for the sound. Desperately, I dug through the blanket that had covered me earlier until my phone fell out of the folds.

  “Dad!” I screamed.

  “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  “What is today?”

  “It’s Thursday. What’s wrong, Tessa?”

  “No. The date. What is the date?” I cried.

  My lungs restricted, holding the breath I had taken in, anxiously waiting for his response.

  “It’s the 14th. Tessa Faith. What is wrong with you?”

  I hit the red end call button as my head spun. I didn’t want to talk to him anyway. The floor angled upward and I stuck my hand out to push it away. Why was the floor suddenly tilting? Something was off. I felt funny…then pain radiated through my wrist as it made contact with the floor. As I rolled over onto my back, I realized I was passing out…my eyes closed.

  Chapter One ~ 37,000 feet

  Four years earlier…

  Disgust settled over me as I fell into the coach seat of the airplane. I'd never flown commercial, but I’d heard Southwest was the most fun. So, here I uncomfortably sat in the second row with nerves on end, not engaging any eyes as other passengers walked past—hoping no one sat next to me. I picked up the Vogue magazine I’d already flipped through three previous times, and began thumbing through it again page by page—looking immersed in it.

  “Somebody sitting here?”

  The deep voice drew my eyes to his shoes first. Gray, well-worn Vans. VANS! Not Gucci or Salvadores or even…Sperrys or Polo…but Vans. My eyes skidded up his grungy jeans, and I shivered at the thought of him sitting next to me. Then I saw the gross bearded guy behind him. The Vans guy’s blue eyes were nice enough, so I moved my purse that I had strategically placed in the seat next to me earlier.

  “No.” I shrugged and shifted my eyes back to the clouded window. Daddy’s jet windows were much clearer.

  Other passengers filed past and then the flight attendant started instructing us on what to do, pointing out the exits in case of emergency.

  “You seem nervous.” There was that voice again.

  After a quick glance his way, I flashed a fake smile but no words.

  “You ever flown before?”

  “Yes,” I said quickly as the plane began to taxi out.

  The Southwest attendant was singing a tune about putting the oxygen masks on whom you love most first and it made me giggle. My flying partner laughed too, and while adjusting my seat belt, I caught a peek of him out the corner of my eye.

  His near-black hair covered one eye until he flipped it backward with a flick of his head. He sure didn’t look like the boys I’d grown up with.

  “You live in Oregon?” he asked.

  The question made sense given that we were taking off from Portland.

  “No.”

  “Where’d you come from?”

  “Massachusetts.”

  He nodded. “Nice.”

  The plane had come to a stop jerking us a bit; a small gasp escaped my lips.

  His touch surprised me, and my startled eyes shot up to find laughter in his. As he pried my fingers off the armrest, he mockingly held my hand.

  “No need to white knuckle it.”

  My hand fit easily in his and the touch caused my stomach to flip flop. I’d never really held hands with a guy before. Especially not one I didn’t know. He squeezed it gently as the plane left the ground…the noise unbearably loud.

  “I get the whole don’t talk to strangers bit but it may just make our two hour flight go a little faster. So tell me, girl who keeps giving me disgusting looks, what are you, 16? 17?”

  “I’m 18,” I lied. I would be in a few months, so what did it matter.

  “How about a little 20 questions to keep us occupied?”

  “What do you mean 20 questions?”

  His eyes widened a little. “Like I’ll ask some and you ask some.”

  The plane was still angled up gaining altitude; the feeling of takeoff always caused my heart to flutter. Although feeling my hand in his might have been the more likely culprit of my now racing heart.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, squeezing my hand.

  I glanced down at our still-connected hands.

  “Tessa. Tess,” I corrected.

  “I’ve never met a Tessa or a Tess. Hi, Tess. I’m Ty.” He squeezed and shook the hand he was already holding.

  I couldn’
t help but laugh.

  “Ah. She has a smile.”

  He stared at me for a moment then asked, “Shall I ask another question?”

  I suppose this could be fun. I bit down on my lip and nodded. I’d only talked to two other guys like this.

  “So 18-year-old Tess from Massachusetts, where do you go to college?”

  “Princeton,” I said a little too quickly, trying to cover myself from the earlier 18-year-old lie. I’d never see him again. What did it matter? I was going to Princeton…in a year.

  His brows shot high on his forehead. “Princeton, eh?”

  I nodded, a little intimidated by his stare.

  “Tessa has money or is brilliant. Which is it?”

  “How old are you? Where do you live? Do you go to college?” I finally asked—questions spewing out of my mouth.

  He shook his head with a subtle laugh. “Let’s see if I can keep up. I’m 21. Laguna Beach. And nope. I’m a musician.”

  There was something sexy in the way he said musician. He obviously took pride in his profession. I longed for that confidence.

  “Graduated from San Clemente high. Played in a band for the past two years and hope to someday make it big.”

  “San Clemente?”

  “California. You know, the state this plane is headed to. Biggest and best state in the nation.”

  My narrowed eyes zoned in on him and he squinted right back.

  “Ok. Texas may be bigger,” he admitted with a grin.

  “Um. How about Alaska is the biggest.” I corrected.

  We both laughed when he shrugged.

  “So you’re from California?” I asked.

  “Born and bred.” He flicked his hair away from his face again and smiled. “Your first time to Cali?”

  “No. I have an uncle in San Francisco.”

  “First time to Southern Cal?” he asked.

  “No. I have an aunt who lives there.”

  A bell sounded, and my eyes darted around the cabin.

  “What was that?” I asked, looking to my newfound friend for an answer.

  He held up his finger as if he knew the flight attendant was going to speak. A quick murmur played through the plane speakers—something about turning on electronics and reaching 10,000 feet. When she was done, he smiled.

  “For someone who claims to have been several places, flying sure makes you nervous.” He ran his middle finger along my palm. “You’re sweating.”

  My abdomen tightened at his touch, and a shiver ran down my spine. Uncertain what my involuntary response meant, I jerked my hand away.

  His chuckle confused me. “Have you not been to those places?”

  “I have,” I defended. “I’ve just never flown commercial.”

  Loud, obnoxious laughter bellowed out of his gut, and the couple across the aisle glanced over at us.

  “Why is that funny?” I whispered.

  After raking his hand through his black strands, he clapped his hands together with a snap that made the guy across the aisle jolt in his seat.

  “Ding Ding Ding! The verdict is in. Tess may be smart, but she definitely has money.”

  This was new to me. Where I came from, everyone had money. At the prep school, I wasn’t even close to being the wealthiest.

  My eyes hardened. I hadn’t engaged in this conversation to be made fun of. Instantly, I flipped my own brown hair and turned back toward the window.

  “Oh come on, Tess. That wasn’t difficult to figure out. Princeton. First time flying commercial.”

  I may not have been around a lot of guys, but I knew enough to know that pouting wasn’t attractive. So I slapped on my best fake smile and turned my eyes back to his face. He was actually pretty good looking.

  “OK, 21-year-old Ty, from Laguna who doesn’t go to college. This is my summer of fun. My holiday getaway. I am coming to California to have a little fun and right now you are seriously close to ruining that. I know one person in California and that’s my cousin. I thought for a moment I might double that number, but it sounds like my having money is a bit of an issue for you. Is it?”

  His blue eyes widened so big I could see whites all the way around them. A slight hint of a smile touched the corners of his mouth.

  “You have the cutest little accent. And your money, however much it is, is no issue for me. I think you’d be fun to hang with. I hang with wealthy people too. Where does your cousin live?”

  “Between Newport and Laguna.”

  “Is she as pretty as you?” he asked.

  Elle was ten times prettier and she really was 18 and starting college this fall. I’d never really been called pretty.

  “Prettier.”

  He pursed his lips. “Whatever. So does this mean I get your phone number?”

  For some reason, he seemed trustworthy. “Hmmm. I’ve known you for like thirty minutes. You could be some creepy stalker guy.”

  He shrugged. “You’re right. I’ll give you mine, and if you want to be some creepy stalker girl, then you can call me.”

  We laughed as the flight attendant came by and handed us both some peanuts.

  “Bet you don’t get these on the private jet,” he teased.

  I flipped the little blue bag of peanuts over examining both sides, then handed him my bag. He took it, tore the side and dumped the contents in his mouth.

  “These are damn good,” he said, chewing rather disgustingly.

  I crinkled up my nose.

  “May I get you two a drink?” the lady asked like we were a couple.

  “I’ll take a Dr. Pepper if you have one please.”

  The attendant’s eyes settled on Ty, her eyes flirting a bit.

  “I’ll take a Miller Lite.”

  The attendant moved on. “I could buy you a drink if you want,” he offered.

  The thought of starting off my summer getaway with an attractive, older guy having a drink at 37,000 feet—couldn’t have been more freaking perfect…even if he wore Vans.

  “I’m OK. Thank you.”

  “You ever drank?”

  I pursed my lips at him and rolled my eyes. “Yes, I’ve drank.”

  I’d only drank twice.

  He smiled. “And your beverage of choice?”

  After shrugging, I smiled, not wanting to tell him that it was some moscato wine. “What kind of music do you play? Or sing, or whatever.”

  The way he studied my face made me wonder what he was thinking.

  “A little bit of everything. Don’t laugh, but we play a lot of ballads.”

  “We?”

  “I’m in a band.” He took the opened beer can from the lady after he handed me my soda. “Cheers.”

  We clinked my plastic cup and his can. I sipped my bubbly beverage and watched as he downed the contents in his can.

  “What’s the name of your band?”

  His long, slender finger shot up in front of my face. “Don’t laugh at that either. We call ourselves The O-Seed.”

  With my teeth, I bit down on my inner lip trying to hide the laughter that threatened to erupt.

  “The O-Seed? Where did that come from?”

  “We’re all from Orange County. We’re original seeds. So the O-Seed worked.”

  My smile broadened. “I actually love it. Totally cool name.”

  “What high school did you go to?” he asked.

  After releasing a nervous breath, I admitted, “Overton Prep. We were the OP’s.” I teased.

  “Cute. A prep school huh?”

  I threw my hands in the air. “Whatever, let me have it.”

  Before I knew it, his mouth and beer breath were right next to my ear. “Was it an all girl’s school, Tess? And did you wear hot, little school girl uniforms?” He chuckled and the vibration tickled my ear.

  “You are a pig. And I suppose whatever answer I give will play a role in your next fantasy?”

  “More than likely,” he said, emptying the remaining beer into his cup.

  Shameless! I smil
ed and told him the truth. “Yes and Yes.”

  A growl similar to a rabid dog immediately followed my response and we both laughed. My cheeks were sore from smiling.

  Forty-five minutes later we landed. In those two hours, I had decided I never wanted to fly solo again. Commercial was fun. Talking to someone was fun. The relationship I’d developed with Ty in this short flight was more than I’d had with anyone in a long while. Maybe ever. I was starved for this.

  We walked up the skyway bridge, still laughing at our conversations, when I spotted the driver holding the sign for me. My heart beat in my throat as I walked past ignoring the man in the dark hat. By the time Ty and I arrived at baggage claim, I wondered how I would get to Elle’s.

  As we stood at the baggage terminal waiting for the luggage to start spinning, an awkward silence fell over us.

  “So. How many bags you got?” I asked.

  Immediately, he shook his head. “Zero. Just walked down here with you.”

  Unsure what it was that made the goose bumps spread over my body, suddenly I was sorry for bypassing the driver. Oddly, when I flipped around to take in my surroundings, the driver stood behind us, still holding the sign. He knew who I was.

  “Henry?” I asked, and he nodded.

  Ty glanced over his shoulder then back to me with one dark brow arched high. “Tessa Ashby?”

  Slowly, I nodded affirmation to his question.

  “Want a ride?” I asked.

  “Hell yeah!” One of his arms shot in the air and his shirt rose exposing his abs. His hipbones protruded a little, but his tan stomach made me smile. This guy was skinnier than me…but I was happy I’d be going back to Mass with a tan.

  An optimistic smile crossed my face, and at the same time the luggage carrier started moving.

  “What color is the bag and I’ll grab it?”

  “I have two. They are brown with tan…writing. Well, like an L and a V.”

  Ty shook his head. “Tess. I grew up in Orange County. Just because I don’t have money doesn’t mean I haven’t seen it my entire life. If it’s Louis Vuitton, then say that.”