Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

MARIGOLD

" E xcuse me!" A droplet of sweat trickled down the back of my neck as I wove through the congestion at the airline check-in counter.

A woman with a Poodle in a small backpack practically foamed at the mouth as she pointed a manicured finger into the face of one of the clerks and demanded to speak to a manager. I made sure to avoid her.

I managed to make it to the check-in counter line breathless, dragging my suitcase behind me as if it were filled with bricks instead of neatly folded dresses and a pair of delicate turquoise earrings I promised to bring for Elaine. I threw a desperate glance at the clock on the wall. Time was ticking away faster than I could process. My flight to Mallorca was boarding in less than an hour, and here I was, stuck behind a line of grumpy travelers, each one moving slower than the last.

When it was finally my turn, I approached the counter with the kind of urgency reserved for life-or-death situations. In a way, it was. Missing this flight would mean missing the rehearsal dinner for Elaine's wedding, and the earrings—my mother's, no less—were the "something borrowed" Elaine needed for her big day.

We'd been planning this moment since we were six, dreaming about our weddings as we played dress-up with our mothers' old clothes. Now it was happening, and I was about to ruin it by missing a stupid flight.

Time and I had a very difficult relationship. There was just never enough of it.

"Hi, I need to check in for my flight to Mallorca," I said, trying to keep the panic from seeping into my voice.

The woman behind the counter didn't even glance up as she tapped lazily at her keyboard with the kind of disinterest that made my blood pressure spike. Her uniform was rumpled, her hair pulled back into a ponytail that looked like it had seen better days, and her expression could best be described as "unimpressed."

She was never going to win any customer service awards.

"Passport," she muttered, still not looking at me.

I handed it over, my fingers trembling slightly. She scanned it, then glanced at the screen, her brow furrowing slightly. The only sign of emotion she'd shown since I got here.

"You should've gotten here earlier," she said flatly, handing my passport back. "We recommend two hours, not ten minutes."

I blinked. "What?"

"The flight's boarding soon. You're not going to make it to the gate in time," she said, her tone so indifferent that it felt like a slap in the face.

"But I—" My words caught in my throat. I wanted to scream, to shout at her that I had to get on that plane, that there was no option for me but to make it. "Please, I have to be on that flight. It's really important."

"Everyone's flight is important," she replied, blinking slowly at her screen. "Nothing I can do. You should've planned better."

"Planned better?" My voice was rising now, fueled by sheer frustration. "I've been planning this for months. This isn't just a trip. It's my best friend's wedding! I'm the maid of honor. I have her ‘something borrowed' in my bag! If I miss this flight?—"

"Then you'll miss the flight," she interrupted, finally looking up at me, her expression cold and unmoved. "The other two hundred passengers got here on time. They expect to depart on time."

I had to bite back my frustration. I was sweating like a pig. My stress level was through the roof. If only she understood the morning I had, she might show a shred of compassion. It had been one thing after another.

"I didn't try to be late," I said. "I'm still here. Please, just check me in and let me get through security."

She was clearly unmoved by my pleas. She was acting like I stomped on her fingers or something. Why did she hate me? Then again, I had a feeling she hated everyone. "I can get you on a standby list for the next one, but there's no guarantee."

I felt the ground shift beneath me as my stomach dropped. "The next one? How long would I have to wait?"

She shrugged. "Could be a few hours, could be tomorrow. In this case, you'll want to hope someone else is late and misses their flight."

Tomorrow? My mind was reeling. I couldn't miss the rehearsal dinner. I had to get to Mallorca. I opened my mouth to argue, to plead, to do something, but nothing came out. I was beyond exasperated, my desperation rendering me mute.

"Are you saying you've already given my seat away?" I asked, her words sinking in.

"No, but if there is someone on standby for your flight and they're already at the gate, they'll be given your seat."

"You can't do that!" I stomped my foot even though she couldn't see it. "I'm right here. Just let me through!"

That was when I felt it. A presence behind me, a shadow that seemed to fall over the counter. The woman's eyes shifted upward, and for the first time since I arrived, her expression changed. She blinked, her eyes widening slightly as she took in the sight of whoever was standing behind me. I was afraid to look. It was either Godzilla or a really big TSA man that was about to drag me out of the airport.

I turned slowly, my heart still pounding in my chest, and looked over my shoulder.

Standing behind me was a man. But not just any man. He was tall, easily over six feet, with dark hair that was perfectly styled in a way that made it look effortless. It had a bit of a flip in the front and every single hair was the same length all around the top. He was dressed in a sharp suit, the kind that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe combined, and he had a designer carry-on bag in one hand, with a suit jacket on a hanger draped over his shoulder. The Gucci label was hard to miss. He exuded confidence, the kind that came from knowing you looked good and everyone else knew it too.

He glanced down at me, a crooked smile on his lips. The kind of smile that made my breath catch in my throat for reasons entirely different from panic. He looked back at the woman behind the counter.

"I'm in a bit of a rush," he said, his voice so smooth and deep it could make a person forget their own name. "I need to check in for my flight to Mallorca."

Mallorca? My brain felt like it was short-circuiting. He was on the same flight as me? Of course he was. I didn't know why it surprised me. It made sense that a guy like him would be jetting off to an exotic location.

The woman's fingers flew over the keyboard, her previous indifference completely evaporating. She printed out his boarding pass and handed it to him with a smile that bordered on flirtatious. I could actually see her pupils turning into little heart shapes. My jaw practically hit the floor. Was she serious? Just like that?

"Thank you," he said, taking the boarding pass and tucking it into his jacket pocket.

It took a moment for my brain to catch up with what had just happened. She had checked him in. No fuss, no complaints about him being late. Just done . I could feel the anger bubbling up inside me, hot and undeniable.

"Are you kidding me?" The words burst out before I could stop them. The woman's eyes flicked to me like I was an annoying mosquito she thought she had already smashed. I felt my face flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "You're seriously letting him on the flight just like that? We're both standing here. Both on the same flight, but somehow his tardiness is fine and mine gets me bumped from the flight?"

She gave me a look that was part disdain, part amusement. "He has priority boarding."

"Oh, so just because he's hot and rich, he gets special treatment?" The words were out before I could even think about them. I immediately regretted them.

"He. Has. Priority. Boarding."

"I heard you the first time," I said. "That doesn't make it any different. I'm here. I have time. Please check me in. I need to get on that flight. If you can't get me checked in, maybe you should call a supervisor because I want on that flight."

The man beside me chuckled, a low sound that seemed to vibrate through my whole body. "Hot and rich, huh?" he said, looking down at me with an amused smile. "I'll take that as a compliment."

I felt my face heat up even more. "Don't you have a flight to catch?" I muttered, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

"She has a point," Mr. Hot and Rich said to the counter person. "I did cut in. If you let me on, I think it's only fair you check her in, right?"

He said it with a sexy smile, his voice dropping a few octaves. It felt like one of those audiobooks I listened to—headphones only. I got little goosebumps across the back of my neck, and it felt like he was trailing a fingertip down my spine.

The woman behind the counter was obviously experiencing the same sensations. She licked her lips and then looked at me. She took a second to compose herself. Gone were the heart-shaped pupils. "Look, if you want to get on this flight, I suggest you stop wasting time and let me see your ticket."

I stared at her, stunned. "You're going to check me in?"

"She is," the man said. His voice was hypnotic. And it was having the desired effect on the check-in woman. She had fallen back into the trance he put her in.

I didn't care how he did it. I was just damn glad he did.

The woman looked at me once again and I could see her wanting to be snarky, but something in the man's gaze made her think better of it. With a huff, she took my passport again and tapped away at her keyboard.

"Thank you," I said to him, my voice filled with genuine relief. "I really thought I was going to miss the flight."

He waved it off as if it were nothing. "It's no big deal. We're on the same flight, after all."

I watched in disbelief as the woman printed out my boarding pass and handed it to me with all the enthusiasm of someone handing out parking tickets. But I didn't care. I had it. I was getting on the flight.

"Thanks," I said again, turning to the man who had saved me. "I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't shown up."

He smiled down at me, a glint of something playful in his eyes. "Well, I'm glad I could be of service. Shall we head to security?"

I nodded, too relieved to even think about refusing his offer. We walked toward the security line together, and I couldn't help but glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He really was something to look at, and now that the panic of missing my flight was starting to fade, I found myself noticing just how attractive he was. Not just physically, though that was certainly part of it. There was something about him that exuded charm and confidence in a way that was almost magnetic.

I had always heard some people had it and others just didn't. He had it. I didn't know what it was, but he had buckets of it.

He noticed me looking and raised an eyebrow. "Something on your mind?"

I quickly looked away, my cheeks flushing. "No, I just… I'm really grateful. That's all."

He smiled, that same crooked smile that made my heart skip a beat. "Like I said, it's no big deal. But I have to admit, it's not every day I get called hot and rich within two minutes of meeting someone."

I groaned inwardly, my embarrassment returning with full force. "I didn't mean it like that. I wasn't thinking straight. I didn't think she'd actually let me on the flight."

He chuckled again, a sound that was quickly becoming dangerously addictive. "Don't worry about it. I've been called worse."

I couldn't help but smile at that. "Well, I guess modern chivalry isn't dead after all."

"Only if the right lady comes along," he replied, giving me a sexy wink.

We reached the security line, and he gestured for me to go ahead of him. "Ladies first."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips. "You're really laying it on thick, aren't you?"

"Just being polite," he said with a grin. "Besides, you seem like someone who could use a little help today."

I sighed, thinking of the stressful day I'd had, the long hours of preparation, and the sheer panic of almost missing the flight. "You have no idea."