Evan eased gingerly into his seat and glared when Lennox snickered.
“Testy,” he muttered, and Evan glared harder. “Sorry, too soon?”
So he was less of a prude than Evan had first thought. A pleasant surprise.
He still held thatMr. Lennoxwas a huffy stick-in-the-mud. The way he’d bristled at being teased was proof enough of that.This break in decorum, and his sly little smile, suggested Lennox might have also just surprised himself.
“I’m fine,” Evan lied. The hell he was.
“You’re looking a little green, so I put the extra vomit bags on your side.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Lennox’s trim black brow arched upward as his grin intensified. “I guess you’ve got more to fear on this flight than I do.”
Evan failed to hold back a laugh.
“You’re really pleased with yourself, aren’t you? Did you spend the entire time thinking that up?”
Lennox’s smugness wavered, but he recovered nicely with a pursing of his lips as he turned his nose upward.
“Now who’s easy?”
Evan stopped short of answering,your mother.Not because it was beneath him as a retort, but because a flight attendant who was very muchnotHannah appeared, placing a tall glass of bourbon on Evan’s table with a dashing smile.
“I made it a double,” he said, laying out a small cheese tray on Lennox’s side. “Figured you could use it.”
“Davrin, I presume?”
The attendant answered with a wink and a very amused, “Mm-hmm,” and Evan caught the conspiratorial smile he shared with Lennox before sauntering off. Conspiratorial and maybe a little flirty? Oh ho. Did his neighbor have an admirer?
“Still time for you to join the club,” he mumbled as he sought to drown his sorrows. His buzz from before was long gone, and likely not returning no matter how hard he tried, but at least the burn in his chest distracted from the ache between his legs.
Lennox snorted and flicked a dismissive wrist. “No thanks. I’ve already been circumcised.”
five
. . .
Though hardly a frequent flyer, Heath was confident Westin’s Mile High Club initiation disaster would go down in history as the single best in-flight entertainment ever provided by a domestic airline. He was equally confident the delightful shenanigans had placed him dangerously close to breaking his oath of avoiding fun. Thank God they’d arrived in Puerto Rico early.
Heath muffled a giggle as he navigated through the crowded little airport in search of his next gate. Oath or not, this was an experience he wouldn’t soon forget. In all his days, he’d never imagined being stuck in a cramped space with a stranger could be so enjoyable. And Westin’s near-castration certainly ensured he’d never try.
Though he still didn’t know the mysterious Mr. Westin’s first name, he’d learned the man had a very sharp wit, and their ongoing banter had turned the slog of travel into a blink. There was nothing better than an animated conversation with an equally equipped partner. Westin had more than held his own, and he’d been so poised and relaxed whilst doing so.
“Honey, pretend I’m standing there holding your hand when I say this.”
Heath frowned, tugging his carry-on to the edge of the concourse, where he could lean it against a pillar out of the way of the throng. “Don’t you dare.”
Andres’s ever-so-strained-for-patience tone sighed through his earbuds, and Heath could picture him lounging on one of his pristine white couches with his equally pristine little white dog curled at his side.
“That man, no matter how pretty, witty, or wise, is not for you.”
“I never said?—”
“You don’t have to,” Manuel added, traffic sounds leaking in from the Bluetooth in his sedan. “You have this tone when the attachment happens.”
Tone?Attachment? “I am not a barnacle!”
