I’m not surprised that she did. That’s Jolene. The spitfire brunette who never turned down a dare. I could have asked her to cliff dive into the Pacific, and she would have taken her heels off and leaped. I shouldn’t feel special.
She might look like a pinup with her high cheekbones and full lips. Only now, she has womanly hips. And, Jesus, when the hell did she get that ass?
My mind wanders to how many men might have had their way with that body. The thought has me clenching the bottle tighter and pouring the liquor straight down my throat.
The door swings open, and Stella comes in.
She takes one look at my current actions and gives me a condescending stare. “And here I was, coming in to make sure you were okay,” she says, closing the door behind her.
I slam the thick glass on the desk and lower my eyes at her. “Why the hell wouldn’t I be?”
She crosses her arms and takes a few steps toward the desk. “The pretty brunette sitting in the VIP section might have made my brain go into overdrive.”
“She’s an old …” I don’t want to call her a friend. Friends don’t walk out on their friends when their fathers are diagnosed with a debilitating illness. They also don’t leave without a good-bye. Not even a Dear John on the bedside table.
“Jolene’s nice. I can see why she meant so much to you.”
I growl at her, “Why the hell are you talking to her?”
“Calm your sack, boss man. It didn’t take too long to realize she’s your ex-girlfriend. Not that many people have the name Jolene and are flight attendants.”
I laugh angrily at her comment. I have to give it to Stella. Her ability to find out what’s going on in my life is impressive.
“How in the world did you two hook up tonight?” she asks with a curious and almost hopeful look in her eye.
I raise the Jack to my mouth and hover it as I say, “Uber.”
As I swallow, she lets out a hearty bout of laughter and slaps her knees. “Holy shit! That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. It’s kismet, you know. That kind of thing only happens when the stars are aligned. And you, my friend, are sitting in a freaking moment of fate. You can’t fuck this up.”
I point the bottle at her. “Fate had nothing to do with this.”
She loses her smile as she walks closer and snatches it from my hand. “Then, stop acting like it did. This”—she holds up the offending object in the air—“never ends well. You need a clear head.”
“Stella—”
“You’re obviously still harboring some serious feelings for this woman. But it’s good you’re sitting back here while she’s out there. You stay here. If you go out there, you’ll just be in her way.”
My posture goes rigid as the cords twang in my neck. “What do you mean?”
“Long hair, perky tits, and a stewardess uniform. She’s probably seven dudes deep in attention right now.”
I press a fist to my mouth. “Watch it, Stella.”
She puts the bottle on the desk and backs away with her hands up in the air. “In the five years I’ve been working here, I’ve never, ever seen you get worked up about a woman the way you are right now.”
I run my fingers through my hair and pull at the ends. “Seven circles of hell. That’s what we went through. You can’t come back from something like that.”
“Then, don’t. Stay in here and sulk. I’ll be out there, manning the place. I’ll put Pan Am in a cab when she’s ready to leave. Who knows? Maybe she’ll luck out and ride with another ex-boyfriend.”
I growl at her again. She’s a conniving little devil, that one. I knew it the day she came in to interview for the job. She told me my staff looked like slobs and the nachos sucked. Her honesty is my favorite thing about her, and she knows it.
She stalks back to my desk, snatches the bottle of Jack, and walks it toward the door.
“Where are you going with that?” I call out to her.
“I said, sulk. Not get stupid. You want a drink? You come downstairs like everyone else.”
She closes the door, and I fall back into my leather chair. I run my hands over my face and rub my eyes. I can think of a thousand reasons why I shouldn’t go out there and see Jolene. And yet …
When will I ever get the chance again to ask her all the things I’ve been dying to know? That is why I told her to come in here, isn’t it?
The only social media account she has is a private Instagram. There’s no way of me finding out what she’s been up to all these years.
I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about her at least once a day. It’s ridiculous, but that’s what happens when a man is left with no closure. He stalks like a fucking hound.
I turn on the television hanging on the wall, and the four security camera images light up the screen. The one on the bottom is where my attention goes.
There she is.
Sitting at the bar, looking at her cell phone, playing with her ear again.
Her hair is down now, just the way I remember. She always had the softest locks, and it smelled like peaches. I caught a whiff when I climbed into the Uber and nearly lost my damn mind.
I couldn’t look at her because my senses were already heightened to the extreme. My mind was wandering to places it shouldn’t, remembering how her skin had felt, so soft in my hands as I held her naked frame in the backseat of my car. The way she’d sounded when she let out the finest squeaks as I pinched her nipples and the sweet taste of her when my face had been buried between her legs.
Goddamn it, Jolene, why do you have to be so addicting?
Now, I know how a user feels when they’re confronted with their drug of choice. Ten years on the wagon, and I can feel every dip and curve of her body as if she were beneath me.
A guy approaches the bar, standing on the other side of the rope from where Jolene is sitting. He starts talking to her. I wish I could read fucking lips, but I can’t. All I know is that no man has good intentions when he goes up to a woman like that.
His eyes are probably looking down at her chest or the way her legs are crossed, making her skirt rise up to her thighs.
He’s probably asking her for her name and if she wants a drink.
She shakes her head.
Good girl.
He leans forward again. She’s reaching into her bag. What is she getting? She lifts her hand again to show a ring on her left hand. I don’t remember her having a ring on before. I was shell-shocked from seeing her that I don’t even know what I noticed or didn’t anymore.
It’s a wedding ring, I’m sure. She shows it to the guy and points toward the back. Whatever she just said to him gives him enough information to move on.
That’s my girl.
No, man. She’s not yours.
I go back to my desk and take out the stack of receipts I have to go through.
Turning on my computer, I do just that. When I look up again, there’s another guy approaching her.
She does a decent job of getting rid of this one in record time.
I’m opening up the Excel sheet, and there’s another fucking guy on the screen. I type the numbers into the desktop, and it’s taking me longer than it should because each time I glance up at the security screen, I see this douche bag is still there, talking to Jolene.