Chapter 1

one

. . .

Lila

I huff in annoyance as I hurry through the automatic doors into the airport baggage claim. It's crammed with impatient travelers jostling for space, the air thick with chatter and the squeal of luggage carousels.

Dammit, I'm already running late. I just want to grab my bags and get the hell out of here.

I elbow my way through the crowd, muttering "'scuse me" absently as I scan for Carousel 4. Why do airports always have to be such a disorganized mess? It sets my teeth on edge.

Tapping my foot impatiently, I watch an endless parade of nearly identical black suitcases trundle by. C'mon, c'mon, where's mine? After the chaotic midterms I just survived, my patience is spent.

Finally, I spy my teal hard-shell case rounding the bend. I push to the front, ready to snatch it off the belt and escape this hellhole. Home and some hard-earned R&R are calling my name.

I reach for the handle just as the bag comes level with me, but it's heavier than I expect. Damn, I never learn not to overpack. I grit my teeth and give it a firm yank, stumbling back a step as it pops free.

I wrestle my unwieldy suitcase off the belt, determined to handle it despite the strain. Blowing a stray auburn curl out of my eyes, I steel myself for the obstacle course of dragging this beast through the tightly packed mass of bodies. A long exhale escapes me—this is so not how I envisioned starting my break.

"Need some help with that?"

The deep, smooth voice catches me off guard. I glance up to find possibly the most stunning man I've ever laid eyes on. Chiseled jawline dusted with stubble, piercing blue eyes, artfully tousled dark hair. He's like some Adonis, materialized straight from the pages of my well-worn romance novels.

My heart skips a staccato beat as my mind whirls in surprise. Guys who look like that don't just appear out of nowhere to rescue frazzled, frustrated girls like me. This isn't one of my dreamy flights of fancy. Right?

"Um," I stammer ineloquently, momentarily forgetting how to form actual words. Get it together, Lila. "I think I've got it, thanks."

I adjust my grip on the handle, trying to appear more capable than I feel under the weight of his penetrating gaze. The last thing I need is some gorgeous stranger thinking I'm a helpless damsel. I'm an independent woman, dammit.

He quirks an impossibly perfect brow, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. "You sure? That looks like quite a load for such a petite thing."

Petite thing? A flare of indignation rises in me. Just because I'm height-challenged doesn't mean I'm some delicate flower. Besides, I’m on the curvier side, and I’ve certainly never been called petite.

I open my mouth, a snarky retort ready on my tongue...

But then his eyes darken as they trail down my curves, tracing my figure in a way that feels almost tangible.

Electrifying. A shiver runs through me, and it has nothing to do with the overtaxed airport AC.

"I'm stronger than I look," I manage, hating how breathless I sound. Get a grip, Lila. He's just a guy. An insanely hot guy, but still.

"I don't doubt that." His voice is a low rumble, igniting something deep in my core. "But there's no shame in accepting a little help now and then, is there?"

Before I can protest further, he reaches out and effortlessly takes my heaviest suitcase, his fingers grazing mine. That brief touch is enough to send sparks shooting up my arm, short-circuiting my brain.

I swallow hard, trying to regain my equilibrium. "I guess not. Thanks..."

"Ethan," he supplies with a heart-stopping grin. "And you are?"

"Lila." I barely recognize my own voice, husky and tinged with desire. Get it together, girl.

"Lila," he repeats, like he's savoring the taste of my name on his tongue. Fuck, that shouldn't be so hot. "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl."

I feel my cheeks flush, heat pooling low in my belly at his words, his gaze. This kind of stuff only happens in my steamiest fantasies, not bustling airport baggage claims.

As if sensing my thoughts, Ethan leans in closer, his breath fanning my ear as he murmurs, "This may be a bit forward, but I'd love to take you out sometime, Lila. What do you say about giving me your number?"

Holy shit. My heart pounds wildly against my ribs. Is this really happening? Gorgeous men like him don't just ask out plain Janes like me. Especially not ones he just met amid piles of lost luggage.

But the heated promise in his eyes tells a different story. He wants me. Me.

"I'd like that," I hear myself saying before I can second guess it. "I'd like that a lot."

His answering smile is pure sin as he pulls out his phone. "Give me your number?"

As I rattle off my number, my head is spinning.

Maybe this fall break won’t be so bad after all.