I glance down at my assigned seat, confirming that mine is next to his.
Sure enough, it is.
I hold my purse close and shimmy into the row, taking the seat next to James. I pull my Kindle from my bag and then slide it under the seat in front of me. I fasten my seatbelt and settle back into the seat, my elbow resting firmly against James’s.
James is scrolling on his phone, and I start reading my smutty little book as the plane finally takes off.
By the time we’re at altitude, I’m deeply zoned out in my book. So much so that I barely register when James says, “So, it’s about cowboys.”
Quickly clutching my Kindle to my chest, I snap my head to look at him. “How long have you been reading?”
“Not long. I started reading somewhere around assless chaps.”
I feel my cheeks heat, and look around to see if anyone else heard him, but no one is paying attention to us. He leans overcloser and talks low enough to ensure that only I hear the next thing he says.
“You know, we could probably find a pair in Nashville. If you wanted to dress up,” he says with a wink.
If he wants to play, then I’ll play.
“No thanks. I think I’ll stick with my teeny black dress I brought.”
He smiles wide. “Looking forward to seeing that,” he says as he leans away, putting the space back between us.
We sit in silence the rest of the flight until the landing.
It’s bumpy, the wheels of the plane bouncing on the runway. I grip the armrest tightly, and James casts his eyes down to my clenched hand. He places his hand over mine, giving me a gentle squeeze, and leaves it there until the plane comes to a stop.
I let go of the armrest and try not to look at James as everyone stands and starts the slow, shuffling process of deplaning. The aisle is a human bottleneck, all elbows and overstuffed bags, but James waits for me to stand before he does.
I’m hyper-aware of the way he moves, half a step closer than necessary, one hand on my lower back as we file out past the rows and into the harsh fluorescence of the plane bridge.
We walk through the terminal and out to the passenger pickup, where we find a Sprinter van waiting to pick us up. We all climb in, but this time, James and I aren’t seated beside each other as he takes the front passenger seat. His absence during the twenty-minute ride to the hotel shouldn’t bother me, but I find myself wanting to be as close to him as I can be.
I shake off the pathetic thoughts.
This is a work trip, Avery. Focus.
We pull into the hotel and unload ourselves from the van before grabbing our bags from the back. James leads our group to the lobby and approaches the front desk. The rest of the attorneys stand in a gaggle, eyes roaming over the details of thespace. The floors are a beautiful Italian marble, and the room is fitted with warm-toned wood furnishings, which contrast nicely with the velvet couches.
When James returns to the group, he has room keys in his hands. He passes them out to the attorneys, who then head toward the elevators with their bags.
My hand is extended out to him, palm up, waiting for mine when I notice there are no other room keys in his hands.
“My room key?” I ask.
“You don’t have one. You’re staying with me.”
The words stun me.
“James. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Won’t the other attorneys see us staying in the same room together?”
“No.”
“Okay, I know you have this hot, broody, minimal talking thing that you do. But I need you to elaborate.”
He shoots me a look that feels like a warning.
We join the other attorneys at the elevator, and when it arrives, the other attorneys step in, leaving no room for myself and James.
