by R. R. Banks
I had picked up the bags my driver had taken out of the trunk and started to walk toward the door when I noticed Roxie. Her body was turned away from me, but as she glanced over her shoulder, I could see the profile of her face and her shimmering blonde locks tumbling down the curve of her neck. She was shorter than I imagined. Five-foot-four, maybe, with plump, kissable lips and a curvy, athletic body. Almost as though she could feel me looking at her, she turned, and our eyes met. She didn't smile.
Well, that's not a good sign.
"Luca?"
I had been near her for approximately fifteen seconds and she already seemed upset. I looked around and then back at her.
"Did several other men who look like me come by since you've been waiting?" I teased.
Roxie looked flustered by the question.
"No. I just –" she paused, and her hands swirled around in front of her for a few seconds as if she was willing the right words to come to mind. After a few seconds, they flopped down in defeat and I realized her brain had not complied with her request. "What else was I supposed to say?"
I tilted my head at her quizzically.
"Maybe hello?"
Roxie pressed her fingers to her temples and looked down on the sidewalk, drawing in a breath.
"OK. I – we – seriously don't have time for this. We need to get to the plane."
I noticed her voice was trembling slightly and I took a step toward her. Even though this was the first time that we had met in person, I already felt a sense of protectiveness over her.
"Roxie? Are you alright?"
She didn't look up at me.
"I'm just a little nervous," she said.
"About the wedding? It’ll be fine.”
She looked up at me sharply.
"What do you mean it's going to be fine?" she asked suspiciously.
"I mean it's going to be fine. You’re nervous about the wedding, right?"
"I wasn't nervous about the wedding," she said, her voice creeping higher as if it was a ridiculous thing to even consider.
"That's good. I just assumed…"
"Well, now I am, thank you! Now that you had to go and say that it was going to be fine!"
By the end of the sentence, her voice had reached a nearly panicked pitch. I looked at her blankly for a few seconds, feeling at a loss for words.
"I'm not really following what happened here," I finally admitted. "Is something wrong with 'fine'?"
"Of course, something is wrong with fine. Fine is the epitome of passive-aggressiveness. Fine is the word that people say when things are terrible, but they don't want to say they're terrible, so they just say they're fine. Like if you were really in the mood for lasagna for dinner but your mom made meatloaf. You don't want to hurt her feelings, so you say...it's fine. Or your roommate bought a new dress and it's at least two sizes too small but she's been really down on herself recently and you know that it's because of that bad breakup with the guy who told her she was fat, so you don't want to tell her that it looks awful, but you can't tell her that it looks good either. So you say...it's fine."
The stream of words spilling out of her mouth seemed to leave her breathless.
"The wedding is not going to be meatloaf," I said.
What the hell did I just say?
Roxie narrowed her eyes at me and we seemed locked in a stalemate, neither one of us entirely sure of where the conversation was going.
"I don't like flying," she finally said.
Oh.
"Why in the hell didn't you tell me? We could have taken the train."
"You specifically told me to cancel the train tickets."
"Because flying is faster. How was I to know that you didn't like to fly."
"I don't like to fly."
"That's not particularly helpful at this point."
This was turning out spectacularly already.
"Let's just go. I'll feel better once I'm on the plane."
"Exactly," I said, heading with her through the door and into the lobby. "Once you're on the plane, you'll settle in and see that everything is going to be just fi— fantastic."
"Actually, once I'm on the plane and strapped down, I just tell myself there's no escape, so I might as well not resist."
Alright, then.
"I promise you are safe. The flight is going to go by so fast you won't even realize it. It's going to be over and that's the first challenge. Once that's done, you've already accomplished something, right? I think that not dying on the flight trumps getting to the resort and seeing everybody for the first time. Then it's just one thing at a time from there."
Roxie drew in a breath as if to steady herself and then nodded.
"Yes."
"Good. Alright. Let's get our boarding passes and get this faux-mantic getaway started."
We had been making our way toward the ticket counter, but as soon as I said that, she stopped.
"Faux-mantic?" she said, her tone expressing her disbelief that I had just said those words out loud.
"Yeah," I said with a shrug.
She stared at me for a few more seconds and then shook her head as she started walking again.
"I'm going to have to ask you not to talk during the flight."
I chuckled and followed her. We stepped up to the counter and I shot a grin to the bored-looking woman behind the computer. She immediately perked up and I noticed a hint of color splash onto her cheeks.
"We need to pick up our boarding passes for the 10 o'clock flight," I said.
"You can use the self-service kiosks," she said, then smiled a little bigger. "But I'd be happy to help you. What's the name?"
"They're under Luca Cavett."
She turned toward her computer.
"Lucky her," she murmured.
"I think we'll just use the kiosk. Thank you," Roxie said.
She turned on her heel and stalked toward the bank of machines a few feet away. I caught up with her and looked down at her questioningly.
"What was that all about?"
"If this is going to work, you can't flirt with other women."
"I wasn't flirting with her. She was just doing her job."
"Either you are really good at covering your ass, or you think you can charm your way out of anything." Both, actually. "Or you are painfully unaware of your surroundings."
Oh.
"Maybe I just prefer not to think every woman I smile at is going to suddenly be overwhelmed with attraction to me."
Take that, women's magazine that was the only thing to read when I left my phone in the car when waiting for a dentist appointment, I'm fucking enlightened.
"That's not exactly going to be a selling point this week."
Well, damn. Can't win.
"It's not?"
"No. You're supposed to be impressing these people. The men, especially Brad, should be intimidated and think I must be the ‘one who got away’ because I was amazing enough to land you. The women should want to drop their panties, but also be swept away by how sweet and attentive you are." She pointed at me. "Except for the bride. You stay away from the bride." She dropped her finger. "But the important thing is that I have to be the center of your attention. OK? Regardless of the other women who might be there, you can only be interested in me. It has to seem completely real."
Cracks were forming in her sharp, sassy shell and I could see it in her eyes. This wasn't about the flight. This wasn't even about the wedding. There was something much deeper causing the panic I could see in those wide, glittering eyes. I took a slight step closer to her.
"I'm sure that there are plenty of amazing things about you," I said softly. "You don't need a man to prove that to anyone.”
Our eyes met again, and I felt the air between us seem to thicken. Suddenly Roxie shook her head, her cheeks flushing as she looked down in her bag and started digging around for something that was probably nothing. I stepped up to the kiosk and tried my best to figure out how to use it. Flying commercial was much m
ore complicated than skipping security, walking out onto the tarmac and getting on my jet. It was moments like this that I wonder if all my efforts to hide my fortune actually made sense or paid off. Finally, I noticed the prompt asking me to put in my name and insert my credit card. I followed the instructions and at last, succeeded in getting the little machine to spit out our boarding passes. I was starting toward the gates when I heard a woman’s voice call out from behind the counter.
"Mr. Cavett?"
I paused and looked over my shoulder. Roxie was walking toward the counter and staring at me.
"We have to finish checking in," she said, gesturing at the counter.
"Isn't that what we just did?"
"We still have to have our IDs checked and leave our bags."
"Then why did I use the kiosk?"
"That's just what you do."
I sighed and walked back toward her.
"This is ridiculous," I muttered under my breath. "I just had to buy tickets. We'd almost be there by now in my jet."
I finished my regression to toddlerhood before I got back to the counter and offered the customer service representative a tight smile.
"Hi," I said.
"Hi," she purred back.
I was starting to understand what Roxie was talking about. She was standing right there with me and yet this woman was acting like she didn't even exist. I reached out and slipped my arm under the straps of the bag Roxie carried on her shoulder so that I could wrap it around her waist. She gasped slightly as I pulled her closer.
"My girlfriend and I need to catch our flight. We're really eager to get on with our vacation."
The color drained from the woman's face and her jaw tightened.
"Your ID please, sir," she snapped.
Her customer service was certainly no longer as attentive, but all I could think about was my arm on Roxie's waist. The bulky clothing she had chosen for the flight did nothing for her figure, but I could feel her lush curves and the rise and fall of her ribs beneath my hand. She felt slightly stiff as if she couldn't relax under my touch. That was alright. We had a whole week ahead of us.
The woman got us through the rest of the check-in process as slowly as she possibly could, snatched away our luggage, and pointed us in the direction of the gate. I noticed that Roxie was walking faster and faster, until she was nearly jogging by the time we were halfway across the terminal.
"Why are you running?" I asked.
"It took so long for us to check in," she said. "I'm worried we're going to be late. I wanted at least a couple of minutes to get settled in." She looked over her shoulder at me. "What was that, anyway? Do you just never fly?"
"It's been a while," I said. "You don't need to run. We're going to be f—" Damn it was hard not to say the word 'fine'. "We're going to make it on time. We have priority boarding."
"We do?" she asked. "How do we have priority boarding?"
"I told you," I said, "I have connections with the airline."
Those connections being a credit card with no limit.
As we approached the security checkpoint, I detoured and headed for the express boarding line. The wait was much shorter here and we were whisked through with minimal invasion. I noticed that Roxie looked almost disappointed as we made our way toward the gate.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Oh, nothing," she said. "It's just that I wore this specifically for security."
I looked at the clothing that she had chosen. She was wearing a pair of black leggings and a lightweight, oversized long sleeve t-shirt. The unbuttoned neckline of the shirt had shifted to the side, revealing the strap of a tight tank top beneath.
"You did?" I asked. "I just figured you wanted to travel in comfort."
"No," she said. "Comfort was not my objective here. I planned on taking off the t-shirt when we got to security. I was hoping at that wearing nothing but skin-tight spandex that gave me nowhere to hide anything might lessen the chances of them wanting to search me."
I didn't want to point out that her taking off that shirt and standing there in nothing, but spandex might actually increase the chances that the security guards would want to give her a full pat-down. I was definitely considering it. You could never be too safe.
"I'm sorry," I said. "We could go back there and stand in the line if you wanted to. I wouldn't want to waste the outfit."
"No, that's alright," she said." I had just geared myself up for it. But you're right, at least it's comfortable. How did you do that, anyway?"
"Connections," I said.
She nodded slowly, her eyes briefly flickering over me. I wondered what was going through her head. This couldn't be easy for her. For me, it was just a whim, something new to do. For her, this was her life. But despite her minor freak out during check-in, she was remaining remarkably calm. I couldn't decide if that was just her personality and she was able to weather a storm well, or if she was, in fact, the storm.
We got to the gate and I walked up to the podium.
"See?" I said. "We're not late. They haven't even started boarding yet."
The man standing there took our boarding passes and checked them, then handed them back to me.
"Very good, Mr. Cavett. You are welcome to board now."
"Thank you," I said. I looked at Roxie. "Do you want to go ahead?"
She nodded.
"Sure," she said.
We walked down a strange little corridor that led into the airplane and I handed the boarding passes to the flight attendant waiting at the door. She smiled the frighteningly cheery smile I was confident had to be taught in flight attendant school and gestured for us to head into the plane. I led Roxie into the empty cabin that made up business class, and took a left towards the next set of curtains at the front of the plane. Yet another flight attendant waited for us there. This was all starting to feel like some sort of covert military maneuver.
Flying had gotten scary as hell.
This final attendant checked our passes carefully, scrutinizing them to ensure we were going to the right section of the plane. She lifted her eyes from the tickets toward Roxie, seeming to take in her stretchy black pants and messy bun. I thought she looked adorable, but apparently, this was not the type of attire the attendant was accustomed to seeing in this section of the plane. I was really starting to not like these people. I was seriously contemplating talking to my family about buying the airline for the purpose of retraining and improving services when the attendant finally deemed us worthy of going in.
She opened the curtains and stepped aside to allow us to pass. I heard Roxie gasp when she walked in behind me and I couldn't help but smile.
"Connections," I whispered over my shoulder to her.
Chapter Four
Roxie
First class? Am I seriously flying first class?
I was almost afraid to walk away from the curtains. I felt like if I took even a single step down the aisle, the flight attendants would swarm me and I'd be allocated to an overhead compartment for the rest of the flight. Luca, however, didn't seem to be fazed at all. He seemed right at home, actually. He started down the aisle, but paused after he passed by a few rows and noticed that I wasn't right behind him anymore. He adjusted his carry-on bag over his shoulder and turned around to look at me.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
I held out my hands to indicate the luxurious cabin around us.
"What kind of connections do you have, exactly, Luca?"
He met my eyes and grinned mischievously, and I felt my heart beat faster in response. I chastised myself and forced my eyes away from his mesmerizing smile.
"It's not a big deal," he said. "Come on. Sit down and relax."
Did he really just say that us being in first class wasn't a big deal?
I scrutinized his bag as much as possible before he slipped into his seat and tucked it under his feet. I wondered how likely it was that it had a false lining and was packed with drugs he was smuggling. That would expl
ain the arrangement for faster passage through security and the first-class tickets. Of course, it wouldn't explain why he would be running drugs to a resort in a tiny beach town that often had more tourists that it did actual citizens. Or how he managed to conveniently arrange to come as my date the exact time he needed to deliver the drugs.
OK, my imagination is active today.
I slipped into the seat beside him and rested my bag on my lap. I promptly secured my seatbelt and pulled it as tightly as I possibly could. I would gladly sacrifice some of my comfort if it meant I could feel confident about not being ejected from the plane. When I felt securely buckled into my seat, I dug through my bag for my gum.
"What are you looking for?"
"Gum."
"Why?"
I shot a look at Luca.
"Again… do you not fly? It's so my ears don't pop when the pressure changes."
"I've never had that problem."
"Because of your connections?"
I had to give him credit. The man laughed. We had been communicating over text for a couple of weeks now but had only been in each other's actual physical presence for less than two hours. Looking back, I hadn't been the most welcoming or endearing of companions in that time. It wasn't only my nerves about flying or even my dread at showing up at the wedding and trying to enjoy myself while focusing on Thea and her special day. It was Luca.
He was gorgeous. Like, couldn't catch my breath when I saw him for the first time gorgeous. I had seen a picture of him and knew he was attractive, but now I realized that picture really didn't do him justice. As sexy as I thought he was in that one little glimpse, it didn't prepare me at all for when I actually spotted Luca walking toward me with his luggage. He was tall and muscular, around six-foot-six, with tan skin, thick dark hair, and soulful brown eyes. He was wearing fitted jeans and an untucked light blue button-up shirt. It was casual, but the clothes hung on his body in a way that made him look both effortless and like I had cut him out of a magazine at the same time. His voice was so deep and silky that I wanted to strip down naked and roll around with it.