It’s just seven hours. He probably won’t even talk to you. He’ll be glued to his phone or laptop, and you will be too.
She halted next to his seat as she shoved her purse into the overhead bin and then looked expectantly at him. He didn’t look up. Just like she thought. Arrogant asshole.
“Hi, I’m so sorry, but I have the window seat. We can switch if you want…”
He lifted his dark gold brows and his light hazel eyes flicked up to hers. With an exaggerated sigh, he rose from his seat and stepped into the aisle, allowing her to squeeze by him to the window seat. She shoved her backpack under the seat in front of her and settled into the cushy first-class seat.
Oh yeah, first class was definitely amazing. She was going to owe the countess one heck of a Christmas present for this plane ticket.
Her not-so-charming seatmate removed his jacket and folded it, stowing it in the overhead compartment. He was facing her, but his face wasn’t visible because of the overhead bin. He rolled up the sleeves of his pale blue dress shirt. Even though their seats weren’t squished together like they would be in coach, she could smell a soft blend of pine and spice with a natural masculine aroma. Damn, so Mr. Gorgeous smelled amazing. Well, at least that was a plus and not a minus. Brie focused on the window, watching the ground crews loading bags as she heard the man settle back into his seat.
While the rest of the passengers boarded, she retrieved a book from her backpack to distract herself. She preferred her e-reader when she traveled, but she’d misplaced her charger the day before and her poor e-reader was sitting dead on her nightstand back in her apartment in Rhode Island.
Luckily, she had a stack of books on her to-be-read pile. This one was a pirate themed historical romance. The bodice ripper cover was a tad embarrassing, even though she secretly liked those covers, and she adored the author. She carefully angled the book’s cover toward the window.
When she was fairly certain she wouldn’t attract any attention, she peeped at her sexy seatmate. He had his laptop out and was reviewing spreadsheets. The way he was staring—no, glaring—at the screen, along with the scowl and stubborn set of his chin, meant he wasn’t happy with what he was seeing.
Brie wondered what he did for a living. Something fancy, or intense. He wore an expensive tailored suit and even the rough, yet artfully-styled look of his hair screamed money. Was it the alpha vibes he was putting out that was attracting her? How did men do that? Just sit there and ooze sexuality?
He noticed her watching him, turned slowly to look at her and raised a brow. God, the man could do so much with his eyebrows. She felt like she’d just been caught watching him undress or something.
“Sorry,” she muttered and focused on her book again. This time she did manage to get lost in the story, at least until the plane started rolling down the runway. At that point, she abandoned her book and gripped the armrests in a white knuckle hold and closed her eyes. This was happening. This was really happening. Hours and hours of flying way too damn high over nothing but ocean.
“Are you all right?” A deep British accent asked. She opened one eye to see her seatmate watching her. That voice had been exactly what she would have expected from him: deep and sexy as hell.
“Er…nope,” she whispered. “I just hate flying. Like any sane person.” She spoke in short bursts, too afraid to keep talking about her fear. It would only make it worse.
“You’re going to be fine. Just don’t think about it,” the man replied. His British accent was going a long way to distract her. He could read a grocery list and it would sound amazing.
“Can you keep talking, please?” she asked, closing her eyes again as the plane began to rumble faster down the runway.
“You want me to talk to you?” He sounded half-amused and half-annoyed by her request.
“I’m sorry, it’s just…your voice is nice and distracting.”
The man chuckled. “You know, most people would just pop an Ambien or Benadryl and it’s lights out.” He snapped his fingers.
“Most people might, but I’m not about to do that. Fall asleep on an airplane headed to a foreign country? No chance. My cousin works as a paralegal for a law firm that defends airlines. You wouldn’t believe what she tells me happens to some female passengers.”
“Color me intrigued,” the man said.
Brie was about to speak but the plane chose that moment to power up and her body was flattened back against her seat as it gained momentum. She tried not to look out the window to see how fast the runway was zipping by. In fact, she shut her eyes as tight as she gripped her seat, which was pretty damn tight.
After a minute or so, the rumble lessened, and the sense of acceleration dropped.
“We’re in the air,” the man said more quietly, his tone gentle. She opened her eyes to see him leaning back in his chair, watching her with an unreadable expression.
The plane now shifted in the air, dipping down enough to send her stomach roiling as she recognized a few seconds of them freefalling. The horizon dipped out her window. They were making a turn.
“I really hate this. We’re stuck in a huge metal deathtrap.”
“Let me guess.” He steepled his fingers as he continued to look at her. “You don’t travel.”
“Oh, I travel,” she shot back, her temper flaring. She didn’t like that he was implying she was a coward. “I just hate planes.”
He made a low noise in the back of his throat that sounded disbelieving. She wanted to argue with him, but he leaned over and pulled the romance novel out of her lap and flipped it over to see the cover. He burst out laughing the second he saw it.
“Do you mind?” She pried one of her hands off the armrest to grab the book, but he swatted her hand away.
“This trash entertains you?”
“Trash? It’s not trash, you…” She bit her lip to keep from calling him an asshole. She usually had much better control of herself, but something about this guy set her on edge. Gorgeous men always did.
“Come now. All of it is bodice ripping mommy por—”
“Don’t say it!” She made another attempt to get her book back, but he leaned far enough away that she missed and her hand smacked his stomach. He had a hard, muscled abdomen, because of course he did. The man now thumbed through a random section of the book.
“Let’s see here… Heaving bosoms, a pirate lord, an arrogant naval officer who wants to marry the heroine. Yes, this is most definitely—”
Before he could finish, Brie unclipped her seatbelt and lunged at him, half landing on his lap as she struggled to free her book from his hands. He released the book immediately to grip her hips and steady her. If he hadn’t, she would have taken a swan dive into the first-class aisle with economy-class grace.
“Very well, take your book back Miss…”
“Honeyweather, Brie Honeyweather.”
“Brie?”
“Brie. B-R-I-E.”
“Like the cheese?” He laughed, drawing the attention of the man across the aisle. She became keenly aware that she was still sitting on the British asshole’s lap while she should have been strapped down by the window. Brie pulled free of him and sat back in her own seat, clutching her book.
“It’s short for Breanna.”