by Quinn, Taryn
I was ill. Clearly, I could not travel.
A day at work being barked at by Greta without even the softening presence of my bestie—who was now out on maternity leave—did not improve my condition. I crawled into my bed at ten pm with the reassuring laugh track to the Golden Girls lulling me to sleep, confident that the fates were instructing me not to travel to the land of lust.
My pristinely hymenated state would continue.
Strangely, I was okay with it. Perhaps the answer was to consider alternate situations where my virginity would be a bonus rather than a seeming detriment.
Like the nunnery.
I would spend Saturday looking into those options, just in case. Even without traveling to engage in carnal desires, I didn’t intend to pursue becoming a nun right now. Things weren’t that dire. But if in, oh, five to ten years, I still hadn’t found someone to share my bed—if not my life—with…
Well, I’d always been at peace in church and I had a damn fine singing voice for hymns.
The no-swearing thing would definitely become a requirement though. I’d have to trade in my plastic gallon jug for a legit old-fashioned milk can.
I slept fitfully Friday night, certain I would wake on Saturday too sick to fly. It was only the polite thing to do, not contaminating my fellow passengers.
Instead, I woke before my alarm, stretched, and realized I felt absolutely fine.
There was no way I could back out now.
On the bright side, I’d packed the other day. My wardrobe was a mix of fun, flirty, casual clothes and more formal pieces for evening. I would only be there Saturday and Sunday nights, returning Monday, so the trip didn’t require a ton of outfits. Still, I fretted over including one more pair of strappy heels just in case. I only had three pairs, and the other two were already in the suitcase, along with my flats. I was so unprepared for Vegas and had been flip-flopping so much about whether I truly wanted to go that I’d done little research and hadn’t booked any shows. Luckily, the radio station trip included two tickets to see Celine Dion, who I loved, so I had one night’s entertainment all set.
Sunday night, I’d wing it. See what developed. That was kind of what this whole trip was about. Being spontaneous. Letting the winds of fate and change blow me to my destiny. And so on and so forth.
I’d probably end up watching cable in my room and binging on cheap wine from room service.
Once I’d double-checked my suitcase and carry-on one last time, I detoured to the bathroom to put one more light layer of moisturizer on my face and hands, since I’d read planes were extremely dry. This was my first ever flight, and I did not want to meet my future with dry skin.
Oh God, what if I hated flying? I’d probably be a nervous flyer. I tended to be nervous about most new things, part of why I stayed in my comfort zone.
Not today. Today, I was taking a big fat leap.
My phone beeped with a notification. Look at that, the Uber was outside, right on time.
Eeep, I was really doing this. All by myself. First vacation in forever, first solo trip, first flight. Across the country, no less.
I might even be proud of myself later if I didn’t spiral into a panic attack before I even arrived at the airport.
The plus side was that I’d planned ahead. Needed paperwork and information was gathered and at the ready. I breezed through TSA, though I had to lift up my travel-appropriate light sweater and thin shirt underneath when something buzzed around my waist and they needed to verify I wasn’t packing heat. Then I was on my way, my step buoyed, excitement finally beginning to overtake nerves.
Boarding time was upon me, and I was ready. Sin City and I were about to interface hardcore.
I gripped the handle of my carry-on in my fist and walked down the aisle of the plane, searching for my row. Wow, pretty nice seat. I’d heard coach wasn’t much to speak about. Maybe I didn’t have caviar dreams, but I was quite happy with my accommodations so far. Besides, they were free.
Turned out I was near the back. All good there. It seemed as if the plane was nearly full already. I’d been near the back of the line due to an unfortunate mishap with my shoe strap. No matter, I was here now and my seat was right…
There. By the window. But before I could get to it, I would have to climb over a large lumberjack-appearing man in jeans and flannel with a beard long enough to French braid, and a rich-looking guy in a snazzy suit—
Wait a second. I knew that rich-looking guy.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded, planting a hand on my ample hip and glaring over Lumberjack’s head at the businessman beside him. One I was quite well acquainted with and did not have fond feelings for.
Especially right now, when he was about to hijack my big solo adventure for reasons unknown. Pfft.
Oliver removed his dark glasses—why he was wearing them on a plane, I didn’t know—and gave me a thin, forbidding smile. “I do believe this is a public, commercial flight. Though God knows why anyone would voluntarily choose to travel this way.”
“Hey,” Lumberjack rumbled in a deep voice that fit him all too well. “He speaks. I asked you how you were before and you just grunted.”
“I’m not on this flight to make friends and influence people.”
I frowned. “That’s just rude. Why are you here again?” Before Oliver could answer, I gave Lumberjack my brightest, friendliest, Crescent Cove hometown smile. “I must apologize for my enemy’s behavior. He doesn’t get out much. I’m doing quite well, myself. How are you, sir?”
The lumberjack actually flushed. “H-hi,” he said, and Oliver made a noise that sounded like disgust, or possibly indigestion at his pre-flight breakfast. “I’m doing good. Well, I mean. Thank you.” He quickly tugged my small bag out of my hand. “Let me tuck that away for you.” He bent over to slide it under the seat in front of him.
Lordy, he was big and broad all over. How did he even manage to wedge himself in that small space?
“Why, thank you. That was very sweet of you. What’s your name?” I held out a hand. “I’m Sage Evans, and I’m twenty-six and an Aquarius. Just had my birthday last week, matter of fact. Truthfully, I’m on the cusp, but I identify more with my Aquarian nature.”
“Aquarius, really?” Oliver shook his head. “Why don’t you tell him your favorite color and preferred meal while you’re at it?”
“Hot pink and a nice steak sub with extra peppers and onions.” I smiled, though inwardly I was cringing at being quite so honest. There was nothing sexy about admitting you liked to load up on onions, but then again, I wasn’t trying to make a date. Just a friend.
And yes, I also wanted to rile Oliver. Since he was doing a bang-up job at trying to look as if he couldn’t care less about the conversation—not—obviously, I was successful.
“Pink is a nice color on you,” Lumberjack said, shifting in his seat and inclining his chin at my thin cardigan. “I like steak sandwiches too.”
Except he pronounced it sammiches, which was pretty cute.
“Would you please, sit down,” he added after a moment. “Your feet must be getting tired.”
“Okay. But I’d like to sit next to you, not by the window.” I gave Oliver a hard stare.
“You’re still sitting next to me even if I move into the window seat,” Oliver said, as if I wasn’t smart enough to figure that out on my own. But he moved next to the window just the same.
I shrugged. “At least one of my seatmates will be pleasant.”
Lumberjack rose so I could enter the row and I sat down, careful not to touch Oliver in any way. It wasn’t easy. He was a big man himself, though much more densely packed. There was no chance he’d invade my personal space. I imagined that was probably one of Oliver Hamilton’s life credos.
Stick to your own lane.
But I tended to sprawl. These seats were tiny for a full-figured woman like myself. I’d just have to be careful to not edge onto Oliver’s side, no matter how much I might be tempted to
.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed to Oliver the second the lumberjack asked the flight attendant for coffee.
He smoothed his spring-green tie as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “As I stated before, this is a commercial flight. I don’t have to explain my presence here to you or anyone.”
“Uh-huh. You’re here because you think I need a chaperone.” Even as I said it, I argued with myself.
Oliver didn’t like me. Why would he give a whit if I traveled to Vegas to get my freak on?
Which wasn’t seeming likely any longer anyway. I’d be happy to gamble a little, maybe shop, enjoy the warm weather, and sleep in a different bed for a couple of nights. If I met a nice guy to have dinner with, that would be a plus. But I sincerely doubted I’d be able to spread my legs with a stranger, no matter how much I longed to be wild.
I simply wasn’t. That didn’t mean I couldn’t move past my comfort zone.
“You’re a grown woman. You don’t need anyone watching over you.”
I angled my head. “Why do I feel like there’s a but coming?”
“This trip will allow me to pursue some business interests, so it’s a twofer, you could say.”
“You have no business dealings in Vegas.”
“Actually, that’s incorrect. I always cram as much into trips as I can, and this presented an opportunity for both business and pleasure.”
“Oh, really? What pleasure, exactly, do you think you’ll find?”
I didn’t care. Truly. But he was Ally’s brother-in-law, and we were in for a long flight. Might as well make conversation.
It wasn’t as if I could get him tossed off the plane. As he’d said, he had the same right to be here as anyone else.
And if there was a small—very small—part of me that was happy he was here, well, then I’d squash the heck out of that shit.
Uh, crap.
“Why, the pleasure of time spent with a friend.” His smile was about as trustworthy as a bank robber’s. “I’ve traveled alone often, and it’s a bore. I thought you might enjoy having someone with you to play travel guide and offer some insight.”
“Ah-ha! I knew you were here to spy.”
“On what, perchance?” His black eyebrow winged up and something quivered inside me that didn’t bear examining. “Your attempt to meet a man for illicit activities?”
“Pardon me for interrupting, but I couldn’t help overhearing,” Lumberjack said, his brows pinched together. “That’s not safe, Miss Evans. Unless you operate under a buddy system.”
I gave him a tight smile. “Call me Sage.”
Oliver leaned over me and gave Lumberjack a look that might’ve been deemed friendly, if one were optimistic. “Don’t worry. I’ll serve as her buddy.”
There was no stopping my snort. “You don’t have the slightest clue how. Do you even have any friends other than Seth and Ally? And they’re related to you, so they don’t even count.”
As soon as the snarky comments were out, I regretted them. Oliver brought out my sarcastic side, but that didn’t give me the right to be mean.
“I’m sorry.” I swallowed hard. “That was uncalled for.”
He was strangely silent, shifting his dark, unfathomable gaze to the window. “I do not,” he said after a moment, and my chest squeezed with regret and shame.
Since when was I so callous? That wasn’t me. Sure, I enjoyed sparring with Oliver, and our snippy relationship was different from any I’d ever had before. Generally, people liked me, and I usually felt the same. But from day one with Oliver, we’d been like fire and water, blending awkwardly at best. At worse, we bickered over every-frigging-thing.
That didn’t give me cause to be hurtful. Especially if he really did care enough about me to bother flying to Vegas—in coach, even—just to make sure I was okay. He wasn’t a man who did much extra for anyone who wasn’t one of his loved ones, and those were few and far between.
Warmth spread beneath my breastbone. Perhaps he didn’t hate me as much as I’d believed.
“Do you want to be friends with me?”
When he didn’t reply, I tried not to fidget. Or fill the space with babble.
He turned his head and caught me in a stare so intense, I might as well have been rooted in place. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.
He simply nodded.
When he shifted away again, I released a long, shaky breath. Whoa.
“I’ll be your friend too,” Lumberjack offered, and as I glanced at him, I realized he was gazing at the side of Oliver’s head.
Oliver was abjectly ignoring him.
“Aww, that’s sweet.” I squeezed Lumberjack’s beefy arm and grinned up at him. “Me too?”
“O-of course.” The smile he flashed me was without guile.
The exact opposite of Oliver’s, and yet I felt oddly pulled to him. Was it because he was the first man I’d spoken to for more than a moment during my hookup quest?
Oliver, that is, not Lumberjack. Lumberjack was kind and seemed like a good person, but he stirred nothing in me. Not that Oliver did either.
Of course not. That would be lunacy. I hadn’t even had a drink yet. The minute that in-flight sign went on though, it was on. I couldn’t wait to enjoy my first experience with day-drinking. The occasional glass of wine with lunch did not count.
As for Oliver, I must be ovulating or something. There was no other earthly reason why he would do anything for me other than cause me angina.
Oliver leaned across my lap again, and his gaze dropped to my hand still clasping Lumberjack’s biceps for an instant before he smiled at the other man. “I’m a Leo.”
Lumberjack locked his jaw. “Uh, I don’t know signs and stuff.”
I didn’t know why I wanted to laugh, but I so did. “What’s your birthday?”
“July eleventh.”
“Cancer. You’re an empathetic man. No wonder you offered to be Oliver’s friend. You have a benevolent soul. Leos, however, can be proud and unwilling to accept help. They’re also arrogant and usually have flowing manes. Hmm, not so much with you.” I cocked my head and studied Oliver’s almost military-short cut. The front was longer, and sometimes swept into his eyes, only to be ruthlessly pushed back.
Like right now.
“I’m not some hippie,” he muttered, sitting back and pulling out a tablet. He immediately began to type with his thumbs.
Conversation over. Okay then.
I leaned toward Lumberjack. “Don’t mind his manners,” I whispered. “He’s new to the friend thing.”
“I heard that,” Oliver said without looking up. “Should I cling to your arm too to show our friendship?”
Reluctantly, I let go of Lumberjack. He was nice and sturdy to hang onto.
Good thing we were about to take off. I was ready for that drink.
The requisite pre-flight warnings were recited and I listened with rapt attention to the various safety checks mentioned. So exciting. I couldn’t wait to put all of this in my memory planner once I was back home. Oh, picture! I’d almost forgotten in my exuberance.
Tugging out my phone, I snapped pictures of the inside of the plane, including one of Lumberjack, who smiled widely. When I turned the phone toward Oliver, his glower was enough to have me lowering it.
I’d just substitute a picture of Oscar The Grouch in his trash can for Oliver.
Sighing, I tucked away my cell. The lights went down and I put on my seat belt, prepared for liftoff. This would be the fun part. Once we were in the air, I’d have to take out my backup sweater from my bag for my legs. It was awfully chilly in here.
A thunderous rolling sound filled the plane and my stomach heaved, falling approximately to my knees. I screeched and grabbed an arm, except this time it wasn’t Lumberjack’s.
“Oh my God, what is that? Turbulence?”
Oliver’s chuckle would’ve infuriated me if I could fully process it through the roar in my head. “You can’t have turbulence until yo
u’re in the air.”
Stay calm. Stay chill. Millions of people do this every day.
The floor seemed to shake under my feet and I gave up all pretense of being relaxed. I buried my face in Oliver’s shoulder and let out a whimper.
To my utter shock, he cupped the back of my head in his large hand and stroked my hair, saying softly to Lumberjack, “First-time flyer.”
Lumberjack replied something that sounded like “lucky you” before another rumble occurred and some definite whooshing. I could tell we were rising because my belly was flopping like a landed trout, but Oliver’s caresses on my hair were surprisingly soothing.
“Just another minute or two and we’ll level out.”
I didn’t say anything, since I was still clinging and hiding my eyes like a terrified child. No doubt about it, this would mortify me later, but right now? I was quite enjoying being nestled up against Oliver.
Must be the adrenaline drop after my fight-or-flight response. Also, he smelled really freaking fabulous. How had I never noticed before?
Granted, I’d never had my nose buried in his clothing before—and pressed against firm, rippling muscle—but still. The scent was an intriguing mix of cedar that reminded me of the closet in my room at home, soap, and the light tang of clean sweat, all layered with some high-end musky cologne. Delicious.
Damn near edible, if I wasn’t in the midst of a panic attack.
The plane seemed to level out at about the same time his hand stopped moving over my hair. “Are you sniffing me?” he asked against my ear.
His warm breath ruffled my hair and a shiver moved through me that had nothing to do with the drafty plane. What was wrong with me? I never reacted this way to him when we were in Crescent Cove. Sure, I might’ve brushed against him now and then, just because he was such a solid hunk of man meat, but it wasn’t sexual exactly. More like I was in a drought of attention from the opposite sex and he was a complete ass, but he was so very male.