Chapter 2

Braden

I arrive with plenty of time to grab whatever paperback is topping the charts from a gift shop and eat one of those hot, gooey pretzels you can only seem to find in an airport. With my overnight bag slung over my shoulder, I stop in the middle of a crowd that seems churned up about something. Like they might pull out hidden pitchforks and torches they somehow managed to get through security.

At one of the info screens, I peer up at it at the same time I start dialing my pilot. Looks like every last flight is canceled due to a dangerous storm that’s shutting down airports across half the country.

I was hoping to blend in and fly commercial this trip—environmentally conscious and all—but it looks like the weather has other plans for me. My pilot picks up immediately and confirms he needs to check with air traffic control before he can confirm we can leave. After a few minutes of muffled silence, he clicks back on.

“We’d have to have wheels up in the next fifteen minutes to stay ahead of the storm,” Mike says.

“Is it safe?” I ask.

He’s been flying me all over the country since before I bought my football team— God, how many years has it been now? He loves the sport as much as I do and is dedicated to my team, even back when Seattle were the laughingstocks of the sports world. Unable to win, or even score half the time, they were on the verge of bankruptcy when I just had a feeling about them.

Mike was flying me to the meeting so I could snap them up for a song, and he was the only one who didn’t scoff at my gut feeling that I could turn everything around. I trust him with my life, since if we go up and things turn bad, it’s his ass taking a nosedive as well.

“Yeah, we can make it,” he says. “Just hurry up and get on the tarmac. I’m ready to go right now.”

I end the call and swivel, mildly disappointed about the pretzel, but grateful that I won’t be twiddling my thumbs with the rest of these poor suckers for the next few hours. Then I turn and come face to face with one of them.

Damn it. It’s Carly. Hell, it’s not that she’s the last person I want to see. I knew she’d be at the resort for the annual vacation. I just didn’t expect to have to deal with her so soon. She clearly still hates my guts by the way her pretty blue eyes widen in horror when she recognizes me. Her hands go to her silky, jet black hair in the way they’ve always done when she’s flustered.

It’s too late to duck. She’s seen me, and the Hagels would disown me if I flat out ignored her and left her in the lurch. There’s no choice but to head over and offer her some help. Knowing Carly, she’ll primly tell me no, and make up some story about planning to spend half the night in the airport to keep from spending even a couple hours with me.

Good, that’s fine. At least I’ll have done my duty to Matt and his parents.

I stride over to her, grinning when she whips her head around as if looking for a place to hide as I get closer. She’s always been so cute when she gets perturbed. And I’ve always perturbed the hell out of her for some reason.

“You stuck?” I say after our stilted greeting.

“Yes,” she admits in the same way she’d have to admit she just committed a major crime. “Everyone is.”

“I’m not,” I say, smiling down at her. “So, you don’t have a backup plan for the flight?”

She shrugs, lifting one slender shoulder, causing the strap on her top to slide down her arm when she lowers it. It takes me a second before I realize my hand is lifting to smooth it back up, but she beats me to it with a scowl.

“I’ll probably get a hotel nearby and take a nap.”

“Or you could hop on my plane with me. We have to hurry though.”

“You have clearance to fly?” she asks incredulously.

“Of course,” I say, because for some reason I can’t help but want to get under her skin. Just a little, for old time’s sake. I thought this would be a nightmare, but being close to her is giving me a warm feeling I don’t mind at all. “Come on. The closest hotel is a shithole and not even you can pass that much time in your sketchbook.”

She raises one of her delicately arched brows as if to argue. I really think she’s going to say no she pauses for so long, looking at me like I’m something smelly she stepped in. It should offend me, since I’m trying to help her out, but it somehow makes her even cuter.

I start to step away, not about to miss the narrow take off window Mike has been granted. Nothing like getting caught in a storm at forty thousand feet. No need to plummet into a mountain today. I’m looking forward to this vacation too much.

“Fine,” she says, slinging the backpack she’s been gripping onto her shoulders. “Lead the way.”

She’s actually accepting my offer? Well, well, well. Things just got a lot more interesting.

***

The engine is already whirring as Carly struggles to shove her oversized backpack into the overhead compartment. I offered to carry it for her as we raced through the airport, but she clutched the strap and told me not to worry about it.

She’s tiny, barely reaching my shoulder, and the bag is about to topple down onto her head, so I nudge her out of the way, only just refraining from calling her Pipsqueak, her brother’s old nickname for her. For some reason she doesn’t seem like that little kid we used to tease until she was bright red and had steam coming out of her ears. I don’t want to antagonize her on the flight. She tries to hide it, but she can’t stand flying.

While I get our bags stowed, she looks around my plane, but I can’t gauge if she’s impressed or not. Her father has his own jet, but since she’s so wildly independent— and a bit stubborn— she rarely takes it. She’ll say it’s for environmental reasons, but I think it’s because she tries to distance herself from her parents’ sometimes smothering ways.

“Which airport was your checked luggage going to land at? We can arrange to have it sent to the resort once the storm clears.”

She turns and tells me she only has the carryon backpack. “I’m just staying a few days because of work. I don’t want to miss too much.”

Mike announces that we should buckle up so we both move to seats on opposite sides of the aisle as I ask her about her internship at the museum.

“You know about it?” she asks. “Oh of course. Matt.”

“He loves his gossip,” I say. “And he’s proud as hell of you. Me too, actually. Congrats on getting it. I hear it’s competitive.”

Her face glows as she tells me about it, and I find myself taken in by how much she clearly loves every second of it. She cuts herself off abruptly with a slight frown. “Oh, I don’t want to bore you.”

How can she think I’m not interested? I’ve always thought it was amazing that she found her passion at such a young age and continued to stick with it. I’d had so many fleeting interests I was beginning to think I’d never find my calling until the team. It’s a shame she doesn’t think she can keep talking about the thing she loves to her heart’s content, because I’d be more than happy to keep listening. The way it makes her glow from within is mesmerizing and I can’t take my eyes off her pretty face, all big eyes and lush, pink lips in china doll pale skin that’s framed with those jet black curls.

We start rolling and she turns away, flustered again. My eyes drift downward, taking in the goosebumps on her arms in the sleeveless top. Eyes dropping even lower, I take in her tight little curves in a swingy skirt that reveals the tops of her smooth thighs that she’s squeezing together while bobbing her heels off the floor.

Holy fuck, am I checking her out? Yes. Yes, I am. And not just checking her out but having thoughts about her that would get my ass kicked if they ever came to light. She’s always been pretty, in an elfin kind of way, but it was always just a fact that existed. Not something that had me twisting in my seat for a better view. Definitely not something that had the front of my pants tightening as I imagined all sorts of different scenarios I wouldn’t mind playing out.

If only it weren’t for the ass kicking. I mean, I’d deserve it. And at the moment it almost feels worth it.

I realize with a pang that she’s no longer that little pipsqueak I loved riling up. Carly has become a very attractive, driven woman. Her passion no longer seems cute, but something to truly be admired. According to Matt, the internship she got was applied for by thousands of students every year. Of course they’d give it to her. She’s always been an amazing artist. Even now, when I look at her hands, there’s a slight smudge of blue and green paint around her cuticles.

As we pick up speed on the runway, those hands grip together in her lap. A nervous flush creeps up her chest, that I still shouldn’t be checking out, and the purse of her lush lips shows that she’s obviously nervous.

That’s right. She’s starting to freak out while pretending not to. It was one of the things Matt and I used to use against her, back when we were total asshole teenagers.

“You doing okay?” I ask, since we’re about to leave the ground at any moment.

“Of course,” she says stiffly, putting on a strong front and giving me a forced smile.

I go along with it, but hop over to her side, switching to the seat next to her. I take out my phone and pull up the notes from the last strategy meeting about how to further promote my team.

“Check this out,” I say, holding the mock ups of our new t-shirt designs. “I think they’re pretty lame, but everyone says they’re perfect. Tell me what you think and don’t hold back.”

She swallows hard and focuses on the images, finally taking my phone in a trembling hand so she can make them larger.

“This first one’s not too bad, but why are they so generic looking?”

She continues giving me her brutal opinion on the new designs, really tearing them to shreds. I agree with everything she says to keep her talking.

My bid to distract her and take her mind off her nerves seems to be working. But now I’m close enough to smell her shampoo. Strawberries and cream, so delicious I lean closer to breathe her in. Okay, she smells good enough to eat, so what? And her first genuine smile when I get up to retrieve her sketchbook from her bag has me sitting next to her again instead of moving back across the aisle.

It’s only because she wants to show me how she’d redo the new designs if she was in charge. Her nerves are completely gone, and she seems to be having a genuinely good time, until we hit a patch of turbulence and she drops her sketches and pencil to grip the sides of her seat.

Her arm brushes mine, sending a bizarre shock through me. Her eyes are no longer dancing with fun but squeezed shut as we bounce in the air like a toy mouse getting batted around by a hyper kitten. I put my hand lightly over hers and she’s so scared she doesn’t jerk it away.

The urge to pull her into my arms becomes so strong it’s almost urgent. It’d be much easier to resist if I moved to another seat, but there’s no way I can abandon her now, when she’s so anxious she’s shaking. I have to stay close to comfort her, even though her proximity has slowly been driving me wild for the duration of the flight. It’s the warmth of her skin, her intoxicating fragrance, the musical quality of her voice. That perfect smile that felt better than when my team made it to the Superbowl. Something’s changed about my feelings for Carly. Something serious.

I realize I just might be fucked. So much for a relaxing vacation.