“No problem. Safest bet. Hope you got good rest. This is going to be a tough series.”
“I sure did. Tori made sure of it.” Bennett smirks at me, rolling his wrists. Heat flames my cheeks and I’m positive I’m bright red right now. Mercifully, my father hasn’t bothered turning around. I fish my phone out of my bag and check email. Anything to get my mind off the man sitting next to me.
The driver slams the trunk shut and a few minutes later we’re driving toward the private airport. Bennett’s knee bobs up and down in tune to the music and he hums along under his breath. The rest of us stay silent the entire drive.
Finally, we pull through the airport gates. The plane’s on the tarmac and gear’s being loaded. Some of the team’salready boarding and my anxiety ratchets up even higher, chest tight.
We pull to a stop and the driver’s out of the car, unloading our luggage and handing it off to the ramp agent. The bags disappear on a cart as we’re waved over toward the airstairs.
“Good morning, Mr. Prince.” A flight attendant greets my father, handing him a bottled Perrier.
He nods at her, then stalks to the front of the plane and takes a seat next to Coach Keller.
Lucky guy.
“Hey, Cammie. Good morning.”
Bennett’s on a first-name basis with the flight attendant. Of course he is.
He flashes her a wide smile and her cheeks turn pink.
“Morning, Mr. Steele. Water?”
“Perfect, thanks.” He accepts the bottle of water and boards, leaving me.
“Good morning, Ms. Prince. Water? Juice? Coffee?” She offers me a wide array of beverages from the cart.
“I’ll take a water, thank you.” I gratefully take the bottle from her as I step onto the plane, my throat bone-dry from nerves.
Glancing around, I quickly calculate the best place to sit. Probably with the support staff, far away from Bennett and his brothers. Also, the watchful eyes of my father.
I head toward the section at the back, but the flight attendant stops me.
“Sorry, Ms. Prince. But your father assigned seats today.” She hands me a paper ticket. “You’re in 5B.”
She points at the first aisle seat, just beyond the bank of chairs where management sits. I’m literally facing both my father and Coach Keller.
Super.
Nowhere to hide. I glance over at the plush leather seat, my stomach swirling as I clock my seatmate.
Bennett grins up at me, patting the chair.
“Don’t look so nervous, Sunshine. This’ll be fun.”
Obviously, we have dramatically different ideas of fun.
Holding an eye roll in check, I slide into the seat next to him. My hip lands an inch from his thigh and my body acts like it’s an invitation. I’m acutely aware of my father’s eyes on us and I move as far over as possible, careful to keep my distance. Which isn’t the easiest of tasks, given how much space Bennett takes up.
“Could you scoot over a little bit?” I hiss, our knees brushing. I ignore the slow burn in my thighs and instead focus on the cold stare of management. Bennett doesn’t pull away—just lets the contact linger, his mouth twitching at the corner. He knows exactly what he’s doing right now.
“I am over.” Bennett sets his elbow on the armrest, a cocky smile quirking on his lips.
“More.”
“Fine.” He huffs out an aggravated sigh, moving his knee about an eighth of an inch.
I hate that I instantly miss the warmth.
