My mom passed away too soon. I was nineteen when she was killed in a car accident. She was an accomplished architect, and she and my dad were such a great team—as a couple, as parents, and in their business collaborations. I miss her every damn day.
My dad is a real estate mogul who’s been gradually shifting his attention to developing a property in Windy Harbor, Minnesota. It’s become a family affair. We’re building an amazing resort called Windhaven. That’s the other reason I’m going back and forth from California to Minnesota so much. My dad calls the venture Rivendell-inspired, straight out of the pages ofThe Lord of the Rings. A mini-Rivendell. It really is beautiful.
I have a row to myself, which is pretty dang nice, and I try to watch a movie, but my attention is distracted by the girl in front of me. Even more so when she stands up, her long legs drawing my eyes down them again. Her legs are bronzed and look so fucking soft. I’d give anything to reach out and touch them and see if they’re as soft as they look.
I’m a tall guy—6'5", and I’d put her around 5'10" or maybe even more. She’s wearing heels, and it hits me again—God, she’s so hot. She can’t be much more comfortable than I am in these plane seats. I glance up at her and pause when I see her expression. There’s a little frown between her eyebrows.
The next thing happens so fast, I’m not sure what’s goingon. People gasp around us as she stumbles forward, and I reach out and catch her as she falls right into my lap, face down. It’s a good thing I had the elbow rest up because her head would’ve hit it hard. Her left breast is in my left hand, and her ass is in my right.
I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.
Her skirt rode up when she fell, and my hand is now on her bare ass. It is as amazing as I thought it would be, and her tit is fucking perfection, but this is not the way I wanted this whole thing to go down. I sit there for a second or ten, stunned out of my mind. Then I drag my hand out from under her breast, and when my other hand shifts, I feel her lace thong and grab her skirt to cover her skin.
I’m shocked she hasn’t turned around and slapped me yet for having my hands in inappropriate places, even though it was unintentional.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She says nothing. I look at her carefully and then brush her hair back. My God, she’s passed out. I push the button above me for the flight attendant, and in the meantime, I feel for a pulse. The relief when I feel one is massive, and it only grows when she stirs in my arms and turns her head to look up at me.
“What—?” she asks, her voice groggy.
I make sure my hands are nowhere near her ass or touching anything else inappropriate, but I also don’t want to let her go down again.
“I think you passed out,” I say.
The flight attendant comes over and gives me a look likeWhat the hell are you doing with a woman on your lap?
“She passed out,” I say hurriedly. “Fell right here when she got up. I’m worried about her.”
“Oh my goodness!” The flight attendant jumps into action. “Can I help you get seated?” she asks the girl.
“I can go by the window if you need more air,” I say. “No one else is sitting here.”
She nods and takes a deep breath.
“Can I just sit right there?” she asks, pointing at the middle seat.
“Absolutely.” I hold on to her arm as she lowers her legs to the ground and moves to the seat next to me.
Meanwhile, the flight attendant has called for backup to bring the medical kit, and she comes and does the girl’s vitals.
“Do you have low blood sugar?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” the girl says.
“Can you tell us your name?”
“Dahlia,” the girl says.
Dahlia, I think, running the sound of her name through my mind.
It fits her.
“I’m okay,” Dahlia says. “I think I’ve just been…” She shakes her head. “I probably do have low blood sugar because I didn’t eat enough before I left.” She takes a deep breath. “I…didn’t get much sleep last night and am already a nervous flyer.”
The first flight attendant nods. “We’ll keep an eye on you. Do you need a drink and something to eat? Maybe some juice or ginger ale?”
Dahlia nods. “That would be great. Thank you so much.”
