Chapter 3

This is wild. It"s like I"ve stepped outside of myself. I"ve become someone else completely…someone who actually takes chances. It"s still early to tell, but I think I might like this new me a lot.

After our unscheduled landing, Riggs carries both my large shoulder bag and his own. Luckily we didn"t check any suitcases. He seems irritated by the crew, muttering a few curses under his breath. It sounds like this entire detour is being badly handled, but since I don"t know what"s normal, I"ll take his word for it.

Once we"re out in the arrivals area, his face returns to the deep scowl he was wearing when he first sat beside me.

It"s crowded. Passengers are lining up to wait for buses to nearby hotels. Riggs consults his phone. "Those two hotels are going to be booked solid," he mutters. "It"s the annual early summer festival. They"re probably already busy with people coming in from out of town. And now this? Follow me."

Even though he"s carrying both of our bags, I have to hurry to keep up with his long-legged stride. "Where are we going?"

We thread our way through the crowd to a taxi stand just outside. It"s interesting to watch his tight shoulders drop as soon as we"re outside, breathing fresh air. Yeah, he"s a mountain man through and through.

Then Riggs pulls up short. "Shit, I"m sorry, I didn"t even ask. Would you rather take the bus with everyone to a hotel that"s probably sold out? Or would you like to come with me, and I"ll take care of you?"

Riggs wants to care for me, but wants to make sure that it"s my decision? Something inside me melts. Nobody"s ever really asked for my opinion before.

Dad always bosses me around, ignoring my preferences. Mom left because she was sick of his attitude. My younger sister Lisa just wants to be left alone to bake, and doesn"t care what I do.

Riggs seems to care so much already, especially about my physical needs. Is that where my prickle of desire, the itch to have someone control me in a good way, is coming from? "That sounds great."

He nods, then hurries us into a cab. Following the map on his phone, he directs the driver to a motel off the highway. "This small place would be a last resort for the airline," he explains, "but the reviews say it"s clean. Don"t want you to be scrambling for somewhere to stay until we can get you another flight."

"Thank you." I"m slightly jealous of his casual confidence and ability to make the best of a situation so calmly. I"d be spiraling into a panic if I were alone.

In less than twenty minutes we"re walking into what is probably the last available motel room for miles. I sit on the edge of the bed, then realize there"s only one of them. That"s actually okay. My only thought is to get back into the arms of the gorgeous man who has been so sweet to me.

Wait. That"s not like me at all. How can I be nervous about the entire world, but not the hulking stranger who just brought me to a motel in the middle of nowhere?

"Sleepy?" Riggs asks, sitting beside me and taking my hand as if he"d done it a million times.

I shake my head. "I"m still too rattled."

"Why were you going to New York?"

My lips open, then shut. Should I tell him?

"None of my business, forget it," he nods gruffly.

"No, that"s not…" I take a slow breath. "My father has been pushing me to go to the same pastry school he did, so that my sister and I can take over the family bakery eventually."

Riggs slides his arm around to rub my back gently. "You don"t want that?"

"No way. One, I cannot work with my father. Two, well… Baking is okay, but it"s not my life."

"So you were running away?"

"No. My friend Beth lives in New York. It"s her birthday this weekend, and she invited me to her party, saying that it would be good for me to finally get my butt on a plane. My dream is to go to the University of North Carolina in Charlotte, but I"d have to fly back to see my little sister sometimes."

His eyes crinkle with a slight smile as Riggs moves his palm lower, still stroking my back. "This was a test flight before applying there?"

"Yeah. Well, I"ve already applied, but don"t know if I"ll get in. The acceptance letters are supposed to be coming soon." I can feel my expression falter through my attempt to smile. "I want to be an art therapist. A lot of people focus on little kids, but I think it"s helpful for everyone. Drawing, even just scribbling your emotions, unlocks a unique non-verbal part of the brain."

"Smart girl." He nods. "I like that."

I can"t hold back my frustrated sigh. "Dad probably won"t lend me the money to get to the interview anyway, if I even make it to the next round. They want to meet with candidates personally for this program."

"So how did you afford this trip to visit your friend?"

I stifle a giggle. "Beth"s mom works for the airline and transferred me a bunch of her frequent flier miles. My trip to New York and back was like thirty dollars." It was actually trickier to get Dad to let me take a few days off work, but I reminded him that I never had weekends off in high school since I was always working at the bakery. For once, the guilt trip worked.

Staring down at my hands, I barely move one toward Riggs, and he immediately takes it in his. "Dad said that he"d pay for school, but I know he meant pastry school. I know he has more than enough money, though, so I"m hoping he"ll at least pay for my first year of art therapy, if I get in. But I honestly don"t know now if I"ll ever get on a plane again. I might take the train home."

He leans in, nuzzling the side of my neck. "That"s a decision for tomorrow. You"re tired. It"s been a rough evening. Get comfy, and I"ll hit up the vending machines for snacks, okay?"

"Sure. Thank you."

As soon as the door shuts behind him, I take a deep breath, then get up to wash my face and brush my hair, grateful for a few minutes alone to pull myself together.

Looking around, I contemplate the queen-sized bed. The baggy t-shirt and sweatpants I packed to sleep in at Beth"s don"t feel right. Instead I strip down to just a thin tank top and the sweatpants, hoping it looks like casual loungewear. The outfit isn"t exactly sexy, but it"s skimpy enough to hopefully send a message?

Part of me wonders what the heck I"m doing. I don"t even know this man. Yet he knew exactly how to keep me calm in an emergency, and now he"s taking care of me without treating me like a child. He"s already acting as if he really cares for me.

Do I care that we only connected because I was having an adrenaline rush of terror? Nope. Do I care that he"s older, and I don"t even know where he lives? Not in the least.

It feels like Riggs is what I"ve been needing all along. The sexual tension between us is an outlet for my anxiety. Hooking up with a guy this fast is ridiculous, yes, but I"m breathless to see what might happen next.

Riggs taps on the door gently before coming back in. Seeing me sitting in bed, his rugged face softens with a smile. He comes over with two large bags, then spreads out a tacky bright blue plastic picnic sheet covered in fire trucks.

"Limited selection at the vending machines," he explains. "But there was a food truck closing up outside, and I bribed him to stay open so a gorgeous girl could have a proper dinner after a stressful day." He winks. "Sorry about the fire trucks. Dollar store."

"This is all amazing, thank you."

"What"s amazing is seeing you relaxed and cozy." He sets two ginger ales on the end table and spreads out the food. "Not much for a first date, but we kind of started this way too fast. Time to catch up?"

Wow. I appreciate that he"s trying to pretend this isn"t a one night stand, even though honestly that"s all it might be. No matter how I look at it, that"s the only answer. But strangely, I"m okay with that, even though I know better than to get my hopes up about anything more.

He takes a swig of ginger ale, then kicks off his shoes and socks. He snaps on a bedside lamp before turning off the overhead light and sitting on the bed across from me. He peels off his jacket, tossing it on the chair, giving me an incredible view of the broad line of his shoulders.

"Where do you live? And, you know…pilot from?" I ask.

He arranges the pillows so he can lounge back. "This year it"s mostly a crappy apartment in Chicago, but I"ll be moving soon. I own a house in Old Hemlock Valley that I sometimes rent out. I go there to work on it a few times a year. The rest of the time I bounce around a lot, working for various private jet companies."

"You like smaller planes?"

He chuckles at my shudder. "You don"t, obviously."

I"m getting frazzled again just remembering today. "I just… The big planes have a whole bunch of people working on them. The engines are so much larger. I feel like they have a way better shot if anything goes wrong. Does that make sense?"

He nods. "Yeah, I guess. But any plane owned by any commercial airline is inspected to the same level. If you"ve paid a decent airline to fly you somewhere, you"re pretty damn safe, Olivia."

His deep eyes sparkle. "Now – think about some of the assholes on the highway. Driving when they"re angry, or drunk, or after doubling up on their cold meds because they"re on their way to a job interview they can"t miss. Honestly? Safer in the air."

I laugh, shaking some of the leftover tension from my body. "I don"t know whether you"ve made me feel better about flying or worse about driving."

He comes closer and wraps an arm around me. "Just walking out the door in the morning is a risk. We can"t live without taking them. So make the best choices you can, be smart and safe, and do what you need to do."

I could listen to his dark, gravelly voice forever. "Hmm. I"ve been pretty jumpy ever since Mom left when I was thirteen. I guess it made me realize that things can happen out of nowhere." I don"t mention how it"s left me feeling lost, rudderless, as if someone should be telling me what to do…but there"s nobody there.

He strokes my arm. "I"m sorry."

"It"s okay." I feel like I want to change the subject immediately. "If you own a house, why don"t you live there?"

Uh oh. That dark, brooding look comes back, tilts his brows for a second, then clears. "It"s more than a two hour drive from any airport. That"s a long work commute. Plus…" He stares down at the last of the fries. "I don"t want to bring you down."

"No, please. Tell me."

There"s a very faint, deep grumble before he speaks again. "There was a guy I knew in high school, bit older than me, who refused to leave town to get a better job. Now he"s stuck in a dead end gig, just like Dad, who couldn"t move because Mom was so set in her ways. And my cousin, who…" He shakes his head. "Staying in one place for too long shrinks your entire life, "nuff said."

I can see by the tension in his shoulders and the way his fingers twitch that the subject makes him deeply uncomfortable.

"I"m sorry." I try to lift his mood and smile brightly. "Hey, what"s your favorite movie set on a plane? And don"t say the one with the snakes."

We eat and enjoy the surprisingly good burgers. It really does feel like a date. We chat about movies for a bit, and Riggs shares some funny stories about piloting private planes for strange celebrities.

We"re truly bonding. The age difference doesn"t matter. We"re just two people who click, and want to learn all about each other.

He cleans up the wrappers and folds up the silly picnic blanket, then makes sure the curtains are tightly closed. "The most entertaining passengers are the ones who aren"t famous, but think they are." He chuckles darkly. "If they"re jackasses on the flight, I"ll wait until they"re leaving and then ask them if they"re a politician"s kid or something. Knock the "influencers" and wannabe rappers down a peg."

My hand claps over my mouth to stifle the snort-laugh as I slip under the covers. Riggs shrugs. "Of course, I try to only be a jerk to people who deserve it."

"I don"t think you"re a jerk." He just gets grumpy around strangers. I get it. He"s so huge he can"t blend into a crowd, so everyone is going to notice and remember him. Awkward.

He eyes the bed, then frowns. "Anything I can do to make you more comfortable? This is a strange situation."

"I"m good."

Electricity is gathering in the tiny room, like the tension in the air before the first rumbles of thunder.

Riggs peels off his shirt and pants with no self-consciousness whatsoever. His body is so breathtaking, I can"t even think in a straight line. Ripped and huge and strong and flawless. The deep grooves over his hips lead my eye straight to the enormous bulge in the front of his navy blue shorts. I snap my gaze to my hands in embarrassment.

My heart is racing as my legs press together, the ache between them becoming more urgent. The only time I"ve been this wet before is when Riggs was touching me on the plane.

"It"s okay," he murmurs, sliding into bed next to me. "You can look."

Everything about Riggs is calm. I feel he"s the kind of man who always knows what to do. I wonder if some of his steadiness might spill over onto me the closer we got. Even if I"m reading more into this than there really is, it"s taking a chance that feels…right.

"I like the way you take care of me," I manage to whisper. "Maybe you could…keep doing that?"

His hand cups my cheek before gently kissing me, his warm lips brushing mine so softly that I have to hold back a whimper. Thick fingers dig into my hip as he gives me a shake. "Don"t hold back, Olivia. I need to hear every single sound you make."

Need?Yes. It genuinely feels like Riggs needs me. Even though I don"t know why, I know there"s more to it than just being in the right place at the right time.

It"s like we were never strangers. We were always meant to be together: we just hadn"t met yet.