Love in Transit

by Jana Aston

  I was always going to see her again, though. Sarah Mason was mine before I enlisted and was always going to be mine when I returned. Those green eyes of hers haunted me the entire time I was away, and I knew once I was man enough, I’d have to hunt them down.

  Taking the empty seat beside her, I turn her way. “Sarah …”

  When she meets my gaze, her expression is filled with sadness. Definitely not what I want to see.

  The last time we saw each other was the day before I left for basic training—one of the worst days of my life.

  I chose the army to escape the clutches of my megalomaniac-father and image-obsessed mother. It was either that or forever live my life under their thumb, a life where my choices would never be my own. Enlisting was my big ‘fuck you’ to both of them, the real estrangement came just a few years ago.

  Sarah was collateral damage from that decision, an undeserving victim who I didn’t want to leave behind but had no choice in doing so. I had always intended on looking her up when I got out but—as always—life got in the way.

  Deciding I should lighten the mood, I take in the full sight of her, making it more than obvious that I’m checking her out. I do make a point of looking for a wedding ring though, breathing a sigh of relief when I don’t find one.

  “That’s a nice dress …”

  Her lips twitch and she tilts her head to the side.

  “Do not finish that sentence,” she warns, just as I finish with, “Can I talk you out of it?”

  Grinning, I lean against the seat in front of us and study her. “Okay then, I’ve lost my phone number. Can I have yours?”

  She purses her lips, but her eyes dance with humor. Then a giggle slips free, and I know I’ve brought her back from wherever her mind had gone.

  “That one doesn’t work either.”

  I lean in close, shifting my leg until it brushes hers. “So what does a man have to say for you to have a coffee with him?”

  “Usually, he just asks,” she says with a shrug and a wry smile. “But since it’s you, I’m thinking I should make you work for it.” Her smile fades and regret fills her expression. “I can’t though. I’ve got to go get mar … I’m on my way to an appointment.”

  I quirk a brow and pin her with a stare, surely she wasn’t about to say married … right? “Finish what you were going to say, Sarah,” I demand.

  Squaring her shoulders, she tilts her head. “I don’t really think that’s any of your business?” Her tone more than a little defensive.

  “Anyone else, no. But it’s you, and I’m me, so I think it is.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? I haven’t seen you in over sixteen years.”

  “And I’ve thought about you every single day since your nineteenth birthday,” I growl.

  She gasps but quickly recovers, narrowing her eyes at me. “Cam, we were kids. You broke my heart, I got over it, and I moved on. You obviously did, because it’s not like you’ve knocked on my door anytime since then.”

  The train slows to what was supposed to be my stop, but there’s no way in hell I’m getting off now. Sarah looks out the window, her body tensing before she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

  Unable to control myself, I lean in closer and get a whiff of vanilla and coconut, and never has a combination of the two smelt so damn good.

  “Please, Sarah, finish that sentence, because you’re sitting here in a gorgeous white dress, and a look that would make any guy hard as nails, and it sounded like you were going to tell me you had to go get married. I’m really hoping that’s not the case.”

  She stares at me for a long while, her eyes scanning my face before meeting mine again. “Of course not,” she scoffs. She waves her hand over her dress. “Like I’d wear my wedding dress on the L.” She blinks a little too often for my liking and looks down to her lap where her fingers are fidgeting nervously.

  One thing I learned at a young age was how to read body language, and everything Sarah’s actions tell me says she’s hiding something, and I’m definitely up to the challenge of finding out exactly what.

  I choose to let it slide—for now anyway—and change the subject. “So how are you parents?”

  Her head snaps up. The atmosphere between us goes electric, and not in a good way. What have I said wrong now?

  “They’re fine,” she says through gritted teeth as I definitely hit a sore point.

  Unable to stop myself, I reach out and put my hand on her arm. “Sarah, is something wrong? Are you parents okay?”

  “They will be. They’re just having some difficulties at the moment. But I’m helping them sort it out.”

  “And your dad, is he still working for Carsen Capital?” The company bearing my name, and the legacy I escaped from as a teenager.

  “No.” Her answer is short, her voice terse and full of anger.

  My head jerks back, and my eyes soften. “He was one of the layoffs last year, wasn’t he? I’m so sorry, Sez,” I say, using the nickname only her close friends used to call her by.

  Again, the train stops, and this time Sarah’s back goes ramrod straight. “What’s wrong? Every time we pull up to a station you act like you’re moments away from impending doom.”

  “It’s nothing, alright? I just … I’ve gotta … oh shit,” she says, covering her face with her hands as she bursts into tears. “This isn’t supposed to happen. You’re not supposed to turn up and be all … you.” She waves one hand up and down in my direction but hides behind the other.

  “Talk to me.” I give her arm a gentle squeeze and don’t miss her body trembling beneath my touch. Of course, it brings back memories of other times I used to make her react like that, in much more enjoyable ways, too.

  She drops her hand, revealing her tear-stained face, her mascara running from beneath her eyes. Without thinking, I cup her jaw with both hands and lean in close, swiping my thumbs over her cheeks.

  Her breath catches, and my attention drops to her mouth, my mind and body becoming all too aware of the closeness of our lips. But it’s not the right time to kiss her. I need to know why she’s so tense, and where she’s going that she can’t tell me.

  “Sarah …”

  “I can’t do this. You’re not supposed to be here. You’re not meant to turn up and make me change my mind.”

  I shift back but don’t look away. “But I am here.”

  “Yeah, and now I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” She sounds exasperated, almost desperate, and now I really need to know what the problem is, mainly so that I can fix it. I’m sure as shit going to do anything and everything in my power to fix when it comes to her. I couldn’t avoid breaking her heart back when she was nineteen, but now there’s nothing holding me back.

  I pin her in a stare, watching her squirm under my avid attention. “So tell me, exactly what are you changing your mind about?”

  Chapter 4

  Sarah

  We sit there looking at each other for what seems like forever, when in truth it’s all of about a minute. I open my mouth to answer him. I want to say, “I’m about to marry my gay best friend so that I can take out a huge loan and save my parents’ house,” but his soft cobalt blue eyes ruin me just as much as they did the first time I saw them.

  It was a Carsen Capital executive family picnic, the first one my father had been invited to. I was twelve years’ old going on twenty, with a newly discovered appreciation for the male species, much to my father’s chagrin.

  I was also a very moody pre-teen who thought the world had it in for her and who was not at all popular at the school my parents had sent me to just before summer.

  Despite that, it was already obvious that there were two groups: the students whose parents had old money, and the ones whose families worked their asses off to send their kids to the best school. I was in the latter group, and those from the former very rarely mingled with us lesser folk.

  But that day at the picnic, I saw the Carsen twins for the first time, a
nd I felt like I could barely breathe. Even at age thirteen they were beautiful specimens, already growing into their bodies, their muscles firm and defined. Wearing tank tops—thankfully not matching—and board shorts, they seemed so cool and down to earth, especially to an immediately infatuated twelve-year-old.

  Weirdly, I wasn’t drawn to them both. It was Cameron who caught my eye and soon after, my heart. I could never quite explain the difference I felt between the two of them, but it was as if there was a different aura around them both.

  I’m not usually one who believes in anything alternative like that—and my still-practicing Catholic mother would have a shit-fit if she ever found out—but it was as if there was something pulling me to Cameron. Something I still cannot explain even after sixteen years. And nothing changed, until the moment he walked away from me.

  And now I’m about to walk away from him, except this time I’m not sure I want to. The only reason is because I have a date with a judge and a soon-to-be fake husband.

  “Look, Cam. It’s really good to see you again, but my stop’s next up and I really can’t miss it.” I grab the hand rail and move to my feet, Cameron following suit and standing with me.

  “Where are you going, Sarah?”

  I grit my teeth, not wanting to tell him the truth but not wanting to tell him a straight-out lie. “I’m going to City Hall,” I reply, hedging my bets and hoping he won’t dig deeper.

  A muscle in his jaw twitches as he grits his teeth. “I’ll come too.”

  “No,” I say a little too quickly. I plaster a smile on my face to hide the fact that I’m screaming on the inside. “We can catch up again another day. I’ll grab your number and give you a call.”

  “I’ll come with you. It’s on my way anyway.”

  My brain goes into panic mode, and my mind races. How am I gonna get out of this? I need to do something—anything—to avoid him coming with me.

  “It’s, um … you really don’t have to. I do really have to go though.”

  He doesn’t answer. Instead, his heated eyes roam my body, as if to take in the whole ensemble. If only he knew about the tiara I left back at home.

  The train slows to a stop, and the platform comes into view beside us.

  Panic stations. Freak-out level 10 pending, approach with caution. I can’t have Cameron Carsen come with me to my fake wedding to Wyatt.

  “Cameron,” I hiss. “I really need to go.”

  “I’ll take you.” He grabs my hand, lacing his fingers with mine and stepping out into the aisle, pulling me behind him.

  When we exit the train, he doesn’t let go like I expect. Instead, he continues to lead me through the crowd toward the stairs, all while I’m trying to ignore the melty feeling in my stomach. Surely this can’t be happening. It’s like I thought of him and he appeared out of thin air. There’s no way I could’ve foreseen seeing Cameron while on a train ride to get married.

  When we reach the street, Cameron slows but doesn’t let go of my hand. “Cameron …”

  “Yeah?”

  “Should we talk about how you just invited yourself to come along with me?” I tug on his hand to bring his fast-paced strides to a halt.

  Facing off with him in the middle of the sidewalk, I don’t care that everyone has to walk around us. Me, standing in a formal white dress that just happens to be what I’m wearing to my marriage ceremony, him wearing jeans and a tee. My hair curled in soft flowing curls, my makeup on point—thank god for waterproof mascara—all of it definitely saying ‘important day here’, his dirty brown bed hair glistening in the sunlight.

  “I’ll talk about me coming with you when you tell me what’s going on, and I mean right. now.” His jaw is set, and his wide stance makes it obvious he’s not fucking around.

  I turn my head, looking down the street to where I need to go. “Cameron, I really need to—”

  Stepping closer, he places his hands on my hips and moves us out of the way of foot traffic. He crowds me in, and my shoulders press against the side of a building, but that still doesn’t halt his progress. Instead, he leans his body into mine until we’re almost touching.

  Cameron dips his head. “Fuck, you smell so fucking good.”

  “Cam, I really need to get going. I’m meeting someone,” I whisper. It’s all I can manage. He’s so close now and all I can see, smell, and feel is him. How is this my life? Everything was sorted out. I had a plan. It wasn’t exactly a smart plan, but it was still a plan.

  He takes a deep breath in through his nose then slowly exhales, his warm breath fanning over my skin. I have to bite back a moan that threatens to escape.

  All of the memories of us come flooding back—all of the things we used to do together, how he made me feel, how right everything was between us before it all went wrong.

  Without warning, he stands up straight and steps back, a new determined expression filling his features. God, he’s beautiful—more so than when we were younger. He was handsome as a boy but as a man, he’s breathtaking.

  “If you’re not gonna tell me, I’m coming along to find out for myself. But I’ll warn you …” His eyes narrow on mine, and it’s now that I know I’m in serious trouble. “If you’re about to do something stupid, you know I won’t stand by and let you do it.”

  I tilt my head, my chest seizing at the thought of him being there as I marry someone else. Especially when the only man I’ve ever thought of spending the rest of my life with was him.

  Frustrated and backed into a corner, I snap, stepping forward until I’m chest to chest with him. “Fine,” I huff. “But now I’m telling you, that you can’t stop me doing … whatever it is…” I pause, my mind going blank “…that I’m doing.” I try hard to hide how flustered he’s gotten me, cringing at how I sound more like a bumbling idiot than the strong, confident woman that I am.

  He shakes his head with a wry smile. “I always did like a challenge.”

  I spin on my heels, purse in hand, and march down the pavement away from him, holding my head up with pride. His alpha bullshit should not be turning me on right now. “Well prepare yourself for disappointment, my friend.”

  For someone who really doesn’t want to go through with this fake marriage thing, I sure seem to be determined to go through with it, don’t I?

  My father always told me that one day my stubborn pride was going to bite me in the ass.

  All signs are saying that today might just be that day.

  Chapter 5

  Cameron

  Sarah is just as cute and stubborn and feisty as she was before I left her, but it’s more than that. Where before there was still a flicker of naivety, there’s now this fire in her eyes that shows me she’s more strong-willed than I gave her credit for.

  What I can’t fully grasp is how she could be getting married today. She’s got the dress, the shoes, the hair, and the makeup, but there’s no ring, no excitement, and she caught the fucking train to get to City Hall.

  I’m missing something here, and it’s bugging me.

  We come to a stop outside the Thompson Center. Sarah looks around before pulling out her phone and letting out a loud sigh. I can’t tell whether it’s out of frustration or relief.

  “So what do we do now?” she asks, as if I’m the one with the plan.

  A myriad of dirty thoughts race through my brain. “If we’re looking for ideas, Sez, I’ve got a whole catalogue of them.”

  Her lips twitch, and I swear she tries to fight a smile. “I bet you do.” She shakes her head, and if I’m not mistaken, her eyes are softer now. “You’ve changed, but you haven’t. You’re like, harder … rougher …”

  “I’m not sure if that’s a criticism or a compliment.”

  She grins and for a moment there, I lose all thoughts of finding out what she’s up to. “A compliment … maybe.” She shoots me a flirty grin, and I know I’m done for … again.

  “So what are we waiting here for?” I put my arms across my chest and scan our surroundings.
Standing outside a government building isn’t exactly where I saw myself ending up when I got out of bed this morning.

  She types something on her phone, tensing her jaw as she continues to alternate between looking between that and the area around us.

  I decide that distracting her might be good. “So, what do you do for work now?”

  Her head jerks, and her brows narrow. “What?”

  “What do you do for a job? Is it arts related?” When I left for the army, Sarah was in her freshman year at University of Chicago studying Fine Arts. In fact, all throughout high school she had smudged fingers or a splattering of paint somewhere on her body.

  We finally took things between us to the next level a few days after Sarah’s eighteenth birthday, and let’s just say that from then on, I made sure to incorporate some form of art into it. There was just something about her and paint that always turned me on.

  Her eyes go wide and she shakes her head. “You remember that?”

  “I remember everything, Sarah.” And that’s not a lie.

  “I’m a graphic designer. I work from home as a freelancer for some regular clients.” She smiles, a warm, genuine one this time. She obviously loves her job; it makes her happy. That’s something I always wanted for her.

  “I always knew you’d do something creative.”

  “I always thought I’d have you by my side while I did it,” she throws back.

  Shot to the heart right there. “Well if we get this City Hall business out of the way, maybe we can go somewhere and I can explain a few things.”

  Just like that, as if a switch has been flicked, she goes stiff as a board again and starts pacing. “You don’t know anything about it,” she replies snarkily before turning her attention to the phone in her hand. “Where the fuck is he?” she mutters.

  Who the hell is he? I want to kill the man for taking the place I always thought would be mine. A woman like Sarah Mason definitely does not deserve to be stood up on her wedding day.