Too bad he has the personality of an unplugged toaster.
I mean, seriously. Who flies to paradise and spends the entire flight looking like they’re contemplating their own funeral? Then again, maybe he’s contemplating mine. And what kind of person tries to meditate with their jaw clenched the whole time?
“What can I get you both to drink today?”
The flight attendant’s voice pulls me out of my seatmate analysis. She offers us a warm smile, which, of course, Alec ignores.
“Champagne, please.” I lean toward her, which forces me into Alec’s personal space again. “And could I also get some cookies if you have them? I forgot to eat breakfast this morning.”
She nods. “Of course. And for you, sir?”
Mr. Grumpy glances up from whatever fascinating thing he was contemplating in his lap. “Black coffee. No sugar.”
Of course he drinks his coffee black. Probably thinks cream and sugar are signs of moral weakness.
“I’ll be right back with those,” the flight attendant says.
After she leaves, I settle back in my seat and try not to let Alec’s mood kill my excitement. I’ve waited my entire adult life for a vacation like this, and I’m not about to let some gorgeous grouch ruin it for me.
“So, Alec,” I say, taking a breath and trying again since our earlier conversation got cut short by my bathroom break. “What brings you to paradise?”
He doesn’t look at me. “Vacation.”
The way he says it makes “vacation” sound like a prison sentence.
“That’s... great! Is this your first trip to Barbados?”
He practically grunts his reply. “Yes. First time.”
Wow. Okay then. I try again, because apparently I’m a glutton for punishment. “Are you from New York originally, or did you move there for work?”
“Originally.”
Why am I even bothering? This is like trying to have a conversation with a particularly moody brick wall. A really attractive brick wall with shoulders that could make a girl forget her own name, but still.
“I love New York. Well, I love visiting New York. I could never actually live there—too fast, too expensive, too many people per square inch. I’m more of a wide-open-spaces kind of girl, you know? That’s why I ended up in Arizona. Though honestly, I picked Sedona by pointing at a map with my eyes closed, so it was kind of luck that I ended up somewhere so perfect for me.”
He finally looks at me, and for a second I think I might have cracked through his shell. Then he speaks.
“Do you always share your life story with strangers?”
The question hits like a slap, but I’ve been a waitress long enough to handle difficult customers with a smile. “Only when they seem like they could use some cheering up.”
His green eyes narrow. “I don’t need cheering up. I need quiet.”
“Right. That’s why you’re flying to a tropical island with two hundred other people. For the quiet.” I gesture around the first-class cabin with my hand. “Nothing says ‘I want to be left alone’ like booking a vacation in paradise.”
Something flickers across his face before his expression goes back to its default setting of barely controlled irritation.
The flight attendant returns with my champagne and a small packet of chocolate chip cookies, along with his black coffee. I watch as Alec wraps his long fingers around the cup, and even the way he holds his coffee is annoyingly attractive. Those handslook strong and capable, with neat, clean nails that suggest he takes care of himself.
“Want one of these?” I ask, taking a bite of a cookie. The chocolate melts on my tongue, the cookie crisp and sweet and perfect. “Mmm! These are really good. Sure you don’t want one?”
When I look over at him, he’s staring at me with an expression I can’t quite read. His gaze lingers on my mouth for just a heartbeat before he looks away.
“I don’t eat sugar,” he says, his voice rougher than before.
“Like, at all?” I can’t hide my disbelief. “What about birthday cake? Or ice cream? Or chocolate?”
