Chapter 3

Chapter Three

In the grand scheme of things, the lack of coffee made everything worse.

Lydia hadn't worried about it when Elle had let her know the flight time had been changed. Five thirty in the morning wasn't so different from six thirty. In theory.

But an international flight meant she had to be at the airport at three thirty at the latest.

And security was a breeze at that time of the morning, so by four, she was already in the departures gate waiting for her flight, which wouldn't be boarding for another hour.

And no coffee shops in London Heathrow were open at four.

But really, that had seemed like less of a problem until she'd seen him.

Liddy's grip on her carry-on bag tightened, and her eyes bored at his bent, dark head. He appeared to be dozing in his seat, his long legs spread out in the aisle.

Callum freaking Scott.

Of all the damn luck in the universe.

Not that this was a coincidence, or even bad luck, really. They were both in the wedding party. Both heading down to Costa Rica for her sister's wedding. And, thanks to Elle and Quinn's generosity, the happy couple had even arranged and paid for travel and accommodations for their bridal party.

But if Liddy had known Callum was going to fly down at the same time as she was, she would have begged for another flight.

God, he even sleeps like a cocky asshole. If that was possible. Liddy gritted her teeth.

She would just sit at the other end of the boarding area, hoping he wouldn't see her or sit near her. She could handle this. It wasn't like she didn't deal with him every day.

But never before coffee.

And also never when she was looking like this.

She'd worn yoga pants and a hoodie for the early morning flight and didn't have a lick of makeup on. Normally, she wouldn't care if anyone saw her without makeup . . . but everyone else isn't Callum.

Callum was an exception to that.

Because she'd decided two years ago when she'd met him that she would never, ever let Callum see her at anything less than her best. Everything she did for him was perfect. Precise. She'd never turned in a deliverable or project to him that wasn't polished to the extreme.

If she was honest, she had largely put their first run-in to the back of her mind. She'd worked hard, and at no point in the past twenty-four months had he had any cause to fire her—or even suggested anything like that. Not that he ever really gave out compliments.

But as his presence still sometimes rattled Liddy— he really is nice to look at— and even though he wasn't the most communicative boss, she was so glad that she'd moved to London. It wasn't home, per se, and she still missed her mom, dad, and brother, but she'd found her routine, a community, and true job satisfaction. On her own. Which was what she'd set out to do.

She lifted her carry-on so that the wheels wouldn't drag behind her and risk making any sound on the tile floor. First, she'd make a beeline to the restroom and throw on some makeup with whatever she had in her purse. She really should have packed her makeup bag in her carry-on, but since she had decided to carry the bulky garment bag with Elle's wedding dress onto the plane rather than risk letting anything happen to it, she'd been forced to take her smaller, more lightweight carry-on.

The strap on the garment bag was cutting off the circulation to her right arm, as it was.

Rather than continue forward, she stepped backward, hoping to slip behind the safety of the restroom wall just before the boarding area.

Crash.

Lydia whirled around in time to see a bright yellow plastic Do Not Enter sign tumble to the floor behind her.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

As she turned, she tripped on a janitorial cart, which had been behind her. She hadn't noticed the restroom being cleaned before, or the cart, and as she tried to catch herself against it—clutching the top of the cart—the wheels skittered forward, taking her flying forward.

The cart slammed against the restroom wall, rolls of toilet paper spilling from the top. A mop bucket attached to the side of the cart gave a slosh and gray water splashed onto her thigh on her pants leg, just narrowly missing the garment bag with Elle's wedding dress.

Oh, eew. But also, thank God.

"Lydia?" a familiar, deep voice sounded beside her.

Shit.

Of course.

Cheeks flaming, Liddy cringed, then straightened, both of her hands still on the janitorial cart. She turned to find Callum approaching, his strong, dark eyebrows knitted with proper concern. "It is you. I almost didn't recognize you with that dark hair. Are you all right?"

"Oh—" Words got stuck in her throat as she scrambled for what to say to him. She'd nearly forgotten that she'd gotten her hair dyed to a pretty chestnut last night after work, not that she needed to explain that to him. Her natural roots had been showing, and she had figured she may as well go with her base color for the wedding. Look different from Elle.

She stood there, trying to remember how she'd even started thinking about her hair, then she relived Callum's approach a minute earlier. After a few awkward seconds, she gestured to her wet pants leg and blurted out, "Mop water, not pee."

He furrowed those brows further, but now amusement hinted at his light blue eyes. "What's that?"

Really? That's the first thing she'd said to him? Her embarrassment increasing by the second, she cleared her throat and tried again. "I hit the cart and covered myself with mop water. You know. Um . . . just in case you thought I didn't make it to the bathroom on time."

This had to be a nightmare.

"I wasn't." He took three quick strides toward her, then grabbed a stack of paper towels from the cart. "You look like you could use these, though." Handing her half, he squatted beside her, then wiped the spilled water on the tiles by her feet.

She stared at him suspiciously. In what universe did Callum ever do anything nice for her?

Liddy dabbed her pants, wishing she'd packed a change. If it wasn't for the sign, she'd dash into the bathroom and seek shelter. But considering the succession of unfortunate events that had just happened to her, she'd probably slip on the floor and hit her head or something.

She frowned down at the garment bag, still resting against her body. This wasn't the sort of luck she ever had.

This is Elle's luck.

Clumsy, wouldn't-believe-it-if-I-told-you, doesn't-happen-to-anyone-else luck.

Her big sister had the craziest things happen to her. While people who didn't know her often watched with astonishment, Liddy had grown accustomed to it by now. And it wasn't just bad luck, either. The love of Elle's life, Quinn, had stumbled across her sleeping in a closet. Elle had also had a brush with fame and was still a recognizable face in the country music world because she'd won a Grammy for the best new artist after being discovered while singing at karaoke in their hometown of Nashville.

Liddy, on the other hand, had missed the luck bus.

As Callum straightened, he grimaced. He wasn't in his usual expensive, bespoke suit. He wore a jumper and trainers with jeans. Sweater. Sneakers.

She'd been living in London for too long if their verbiage was sneaking into her thoughts.

And dammit if he doesn't look good in his "casual" as opposed to my hot mess.

But then again, Callum always looked good. Half of her coworkers were infatuated with him. Miranda often referred to him as "dishy." That he ignored them all and seemed to regard them with equal contempt made no difference.

"Thanks," she mumbled as Callum tossed the used paper towels in the bin. Her brain was still feeling like unstirred molasses, and she blinked to clear her thoughts. I've barely said anything to him. "I guess you're on the way to Costa Rica this morning, too."

She gave a tepid glance at the waiting area. Who knew how long the restroom would be closed—not that she needed to rush and put some makeup on now.

"Elle didn't tell you we were on the same flight?" Callum appeared surprised, then followed her gaze. "Here, let me help you carry something. That garment bag looks heavy."

"Um . . . sure. It's Elle's dress. I had to pick it up from Logan in Littleton a couple of days ago." His politeness threw her off guard as she handed the bag over to him.

And no, Elle knew better than to mention the travel arrangements. Speaking of which, I'm going to kill Elle for not telling me. Elle was probably asleep in the comfort of her resort bedroom in Costa Rica. An irritated text would roll off her like water on butter.

"You're bringing the dress all the way from London yourself?" Callum raised a brow. "Impressive. They should have just made Logan do it."

"You know, maid of honor duties." Of course, he was right. Elle could have asked Quinn's youngest brother to bring the dress, but she'd asked Liddy because she didn't think Logan was responsible.

Why was Callum being so polite? Because he felt sorry for her after the mop water incident?

If there was anything she hated in the universe, it was Callum Scott feeling sorry for her.

"And to think all Quinn asked me to bring was a good bottle of Glenfiddich." Callum set her bag down on a chair, then gave her a thin-lipped smile.

"I'll leave you here. See you on the flight." He nodded goodbye and then headed back to his seat.

That's when it hit her. He hadn't taken her bag over to where he sat. He'd dumped her several rows away, as if...he didn't want to sit beside her either. Her eyes narrowed at his receding form.

Oomph.

And there it is.

That was the Callum Scott she knew. The one who seemed to hold the world in contempt.

She visualized the smirk on those full lips and tore her gaze away as he sat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him don headphones.

Liddy sat and pulled out her phone. Rapidly, she fired off a text to Elle.

Liddy: You could have told me you booked me on the same flight as Callum.

Irritated, she wrinkled her nose at the wet spot on her pants. She shifted back, trying to get comfortable in the airport chair—a losing battle. Sitting was never particularly comfortable, especially for any length of time. International flights were the worst, but the trip to Costa Rica could never be as bad as the one to Australia had been.

But that was the price to pay with a fused spine.

Most days, she didn't let it get to her. The pain she'd been experiencing since she was first diagnosed with scoliosis as a child was something she'd grown accustomed to. Like a constant hum in the back of her mind that came to the forefront only when the world was quiet enough for her to notice. But on the cusp of a flight she knew would give her trouble, with damp pants, and Callum as a burr in her boot . . . this was going to be a long day if she didn't get some coffee, stat.

Surprisingly, her phone buzzed in her hand.

Elle: Oh nooooo, I didn't realize. Quinn's travel agent handled all the arrangements. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I feel horrible.

And just like that, Liddy felt any frustration with Elle vanish.

Maybe if it hadn't been so early, the travel agent thing would have occurred to Liddy. Elle was easy to forgive—she was frequently harder on herself than anyone else was—and she'd been the best big sister imaginable.

Liddy: It's fine. Just didn't realize. It's the ass crack of dawn here. What are you still doing up?

Elle: All the things. Hotel wasn't quite what we expected. We've been scrambling to find accommodations for some of our guests. And Mom and Dad and Quinn's parents in the same space . . . shoot me now. I can't wait for you to be here already.

The thought of their country-loving, very Southern parents in a hotel with Quinn's posh and upper-class British parents was enough to make Liddy chortle. Elle had been worried about it so much that it was partially why she'd settled on a destination wedding—someplace out of both sets of parents' comfort zones.

Not that the Camdens were that bad. Ironically, Liddy had spent more time around the Camdens since she'd gotten the job with Camden Enterprises than even Elle had.

Coming to live in London had been a dream—as had working with Camden Enterprises. Even though Mr. Camden was retired, and Quinn's brother Aiden was in charge of the company now, Elle's future parents-in-law still came to many business functions. And she also saw Mason Camden with even more frequency since he was dating one of her best friends at work, Rebecca.

Poor Elle, though. Liddy couldn't imagine—as in would never— do something like have a destination wedding. The thought of it went so against Liddy's sense of meticulous planning that it seemed more like the plot of a horror movie than a romantic escape.

Liddy: What's wrong with the hotel?

Elle: You'll see when you get here. And if you talk to Callum, tell him I have a bone to pick with him. He's the one who suggested this place to Q.

Interesting. The idea of Callum having a close friendship with Quinn still felt so weird to her. Of course, she'd never seen them interact, but that was because Elle and Quinn lived most of the year in Nashville, only coming during the summer and around Christmas to spend some time at Quinn's estate in the country, Littleton.

Whatever was going on in the hotel in Costa Rica, though, she'd let Quinn and Elle make their complaints directly to Callum.

Liddy: Yeah, I'll let you handle that. See you soon! XO

Liddy's gaze slid over the top edge of her phone toward Callum, her lips twisting. Elle wasn't normally the best person for Liddy to vent to about him. Maybe now if Elle was irritated about the wedding, she would finally understand what an ass he was. Sure, he could be charming and even seemingly likable at first glance. But he was like that perfect bowl of oatmeal that only became more congealed and gloppy and cold and gross with each bite.

And even if she'd sometimes wondered why her first, favorable impression of him had felt so real, the past two years had given her more than enough of his detached, unfriendly demeanor to solidify her poor opinion.

She couldn't understand why the Camdens held him in such high regard—everyone else at the office seemed to dislike him as much as she did. The only time she'd even seen him smile at work was when Aiden came by Callum's office.

Checking the time again, she wrinkled her nose, then dialed her flatmate, Miranda. Miranda picked up after a few rings. "Do you realize what time it is?"

"Yes, but this is worth it. You'll never guess who is on my flight down to Costa Rica."

Miranda yawned. "Rebecca and Mason?"

"No, they're on a later flight."

"Bono? Or Prince William?"

"Hilarious."

"Well, I was dreaming about Bono and Prince William a minute ago. And let me tell you, it was the type of dream that I'm furious at you for interrupting."

Liddy guffawed. "Really? They do it for you, huh?"

"It was a dream. I was horny. And it was fantastic." Miranda cleared her throat. "All I'm saying is, this better be worth the interruption."

"Callum."

A long groan sounded. "You woke me up to tell me that Callum is on your flight? I thought it would be juicy, not someone we literally see every day. I'm already bored."

"I just needed to vent."

"No, you told me because you still have a crush on him. Not that I'm blaming you."

Liddy wrinkled her nose. She never should have told Miranda about the first time she'd met Callum. Miranda had been teasing her about "nearly hooking up with" Callum ever since.

"Fine. Go back to your orgy dream."

Miranda chortled. "I'm just teasing. It's a rotten bit of luck. But so is an entire trip with him around, if you ask me. Although, promise me you'll take a picture of him for me on the beach if he takes his shirt off. I have a bet going with Dean that Callum is hiding a six-pack under that suit."

"Only you can simultaneously loathe and lust."

"I maintain that he's probably a secret Christian Grey. The ones who treat everyone with as much apathy as he does are always the best lovers."

Miranda loved to give copious details about her love life, but Liddy did not want to imagine Callum that way. Not that he wouldn't be an attractive Dom, but— okay. Stop. Not going to let my imagination get the better of me.

"Yeah, well, I just almost knocked over a janitor's cart in front of him and spilled disgusting mop water on my pants. Then when he came over to help me pick up the toilet paper from the floor, I told him I hadn't peed myself."

"Oh, wow?—"

"I'm so embarrassed."

"I know what it's like to embarrass myself in front of that man. I'm so sorry. I'm still kicking myself."

When did Miranda embarrass herself in front of Callum? Liddy frowned. "Why, what happened?"

"Ugh. Nothing. I'd rather not relive it. Are you excited about the wedding?"

Weird. Miranda rarely hesitated to share anything that happened to her. Their friendship was practically built on TMI. Liddy hung up a few minutes later, wishing Miranda was coming with her on this trip. She was excited to see her family, but they didn't understand her life here in England.

Switching to a social media app, she scrolled mindlessly, trying to forget the morning's irritating events. By the time the gate agent announced boarding, the waiting area had filled with sufficient people to block her view of Callum. Lydia stood and moved toward the gate.

To her dismay, Callum joined her in line.

Dammit.

She maintained her silence as she handed her passport and ticket to the boarding agent, then hurried onto the plane. The plane was still empty as she boarded, then she stowed her carry-on above her seat. As she glanced around for a place to put the wedding dress, Callum came up behind her.

"Need help?" he asked, pausing at her side.

"I got it." She gripped the garment bag with both hands.

Callum continued to stand there. After a second, she raised a brow at him. "What do you need?"

He nodded to the window seat in her row. "That's my seat."

"Oh." Shit. She forced a smile, then stepped to the side, gritting her teeth. Seriously?

Because, of course. Quinn's travel agent didn't know they didn't get along.

Callum slipped past her, then slid his carry-on bag under the seat in front of him. He sat and pulled down the window shade.

"Guess we don't want to see out the window today."

"Guess not." Callum drew his lips to a line, then once again tugged his headphones out of his bag. He plopped them on, then leaned back in his seat, eyes closed once more.

Was it too late to see about switching seats?

"Excuse me," a voice said from behind. Lydia glanced over her shoulder to see a line of passengers forming in the aisle, waiting impatiently to get in their seats.

She stepped into the row, resting the garment bag against the seat. Once there was another break in the boarding, she scooted into the aisle and tried to fold the bag into the overhead bin.

Struggling with the weight of it, she stepped on her tiptoes, wishing she was taller. The garment bag covered the top of her head, blocking her view, when it suddenly went weightless. Jerking her head over her shoulder, she locked eyes with a set of light brown eyes—and the ridiculously handsome man who had helped her push it into the bin.

He threw her a megawatt smile with perfect teeth. "You have a body in that bag?" he asked with a laugh, a soft Spanish accent to his voice.

Lydia grinned. "No, it's my sister's wedding dress. I'm on my way to her wedding."

"And bringing it all the way from London?" He raised his brows. God, he was . . . hot. No other way to put it. Sexy tan, the slightest bit of dark stubble on his jaw. Short silky black hair.

"It's an heirloom. Been in my brother-in-law's family for generations. He's a viscount. I have to guard it with my life."

What on earth, Lid? He didn't want to know all of that. I blame the lack of caffeine.

"Ah, so . . . expensive." The man's eyes glittered with laughter. "You're a good sister." He thrust his hand out toward her. "Sergio. Nice to meet you. It appears you're my seat mate."

Sergio. She wanted to roll his name off her tongue, but then she'd just seem like a weirdo. Lydia had the aisle seat, which meant he'd be a buffer between her and Callum.

Perfect.

"Liddy Winnick." She gave him her best smile, feeling lighter as he scooted past her and sat.

Sergio leaned past Callum, then pushed up the window shade and smiled back at her. "I always love to watch the sunrise, don't you?"

A happy dance might be obvious, but her stomach gave a cheerful flip. She pulled out her phone and snuck a picture of him when his gaze returned to the window. Then she sent it to Miranda.

Liddy: Check out my seat mate.

Miranda: Oh, yum. Yes, please.

Liddy grinned and put her phone away.

Maybe this won't be such a terrible flight after all.