I rub at my tingling fingers, savoring the only contact we’ll likely be allowed to have in front of Kate and the bridal party for the next two weeks. “How bad was your flight that you could compensate for first class?”
“It was multiple flights. Many bags lost. Several delays.”
“You sound like terrible luck on planes. Maybe you should sit this one out.”
A woman near us glares over the top of her paperback. I offer an apologetic look, which does nothing to appease her as she begrudgingly looks back at her book, her mouth now in a thin line.
“There are worse things in life than losing a bag, Jane.” I open my mouth to list several worse things, but he cuts me off. A loud voice crackles over the intercom, alerting us that boarding for our plane is beginning. I’m not in the same order as Reid, but I still get to my feet.
Reid slings his carry-on bag over his shoulder and my traitorous eyes follow the curve of muscle on his arms, plain black fabric stretching over his biceps. “Where is your seat anyways?” he asks, breaking me out of my gawking. I hand him my boarding pass. He sighs. “Just close enough that I should help you with your carry on.”
“I can do it myself, Reid. Get in line and leave me with the rest of the peasants.”
“It’s not like they’ll give my seat away, Jane. I’ll be fine. Let me help you.”
“I—”
“Am a strong and independent woman,” he interrupts. He holds my gaze as he reaches down and slings my carry-on duffle bag over his broad shoulder. “I know. Let me be chivalrous.”
I put my hands on my hips. “And why should I do that?”
“So I can prove to you that I’m a good guy so that you’ll let your guard down and fall in love with me. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I half-heartedly agree, knowing I’m already well on my way there.
I look away from him just to have my gaze connect with Jessica’s, who’s watching me with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. How much of that encounter did she see? I push down the worry for now. That can be something to mull over in the air. Reid offers me a small smile and stands in line with me, handing over both of our boarding passes when he gets to the front of the line. The woman at the counter beams at him as she hands back his boarding pass, offering him a “enjoy your flight” that sounds borderline like a purr. When her eyes flick to me behind him, she simply dips her chin in a polite nod.
We walk through first class, Reid walking a few rows back with me to my seat, easily hoisting my carry-on bag in the overhead compartment for me. Could I have done it myself? Yes. Should I have done it so that I didn’t have to owe him anything? Definitely. Did I thank whichever salesperson rang him up for this perfectly fitting T-shirt so that I could take in the way his muscles pulled and stretched as he lifted heavy things?
Absolutely. They were going to get a handwritten thank you card from me.
My eyes are still glued to his biceps when I catch the subtle clearing of a throat. I rip my eyes from his arms and drag them back to his now amused face.
“Were you just?—”
“Checking you out? Yeah,” I admit. “Mind your business.”
He smirks before stepping aside and dramatically gesturing to my aisle. “Your seat, my lady.”
“Thanks.” I step toward it just as he steps toward me.
“Enjoy your flight,” he whispers. His eyes stop on my lips for barely a second before he continues back to his own seat. I’m still slightly breathless fromhis proximity as I’m sliding into my window seat.
Just a few moments later, a woman about my age stops in front of the aisle, looking from her boarding pass to the aisle number before sliding in next to me. She buckles her seatbelt immediately and alternates between messing with the screen in front of her and looking out the window beside me.
The flight attendants go through their pre-flight instructions as the plane taxis. The pilot’s voice comes over the intercom letting us know we’re prepared for takeoff. And before I know it, we’re in the air, soaring through the blue sky and the puffy white clouds on our way to the Amalfi Coast.
About an hour into the flight, I look over at the girl next to me, eyeing her legs that haven’t stopped bouncing since she sat down. Her eyes are constantly darting around the cabin. Her stress levels are almost palpable.
I finally lean over to hear. “Are you okay?”
“Hmm?” she asks. She stops biting her nails, dropping her hands in her lap. “Yeah, I just really hate flying.”
“It’ll be fine,” I promise her.
“Yeah,” she answers absently, looking around the cabin again. A flight attendant starts walking past and she flags her down. “Excuse me? Hi, can I get a drink please? No, two. I need two right away.”
The attendant only seems surprised for a second before she disappears and comes back with cups, a can of orange juice, and a mini bottle of vodka. She pours a double screwdriver into two plastic cups and hands them over. I watch, mildly impressed, as the girl tosses back one of the cups immediately. My eyes are still wide as she hands the now empty cup back to the stewardess, who is wearing a shocked expression on her own face.
