out of the corner of his eye. “That is kinda creepy. Grown man waiting on a child to turn eighteen, like it’s some kinda magic finish line?”
“Right?” she said, glancing up with a smile as the flight attendant materialized beside them to take her wine glass and inform them that take-off was imminent.
So who are you now? Thomas was just about to ask, when she added, “I still don’t fly happily. I’m gonna...” She put her headphones back on and started up her music, her knuckles going white from gripping her chair’s armrests as the jet thundered down the runway.
Thomas didn’t think twice. He just reached over and took her hand in his and let her hold on tight.
Tasha mentally kicked herself. Again.
It took me years to get over you.
She’d actually said those words to this man, and even as they’d left her mouth, she knew that she was screwed.
It had taken her years to get over Thomas King. And all it took was one conversation—this conversation, where he spoke to her so sincerely from his enormously generous heart—for all of her feelings for him to come screaming back to life.
It didn’t help that he looked so damn good. Instead of his winter blue uniform, he was wearing civilian clothes—a nicely tailored dark suit with a crisp white shirt and a royal blue tie, overcoat on his arm.
Over the years, he’d cut his hair shorter and shorter and somewhere down the line, he’d decided it was easier to just shave his head. It was a striking look—it somehow seemed to make him look both taller and more commanding.
His face had always, for her, been the definition of handsome, with his rich ochre skin and his gorgeous midnight brown eyes surrounded by thick lashes. When Tasha had first met Thomas, she was convinced that he was the most beautiful boy she’d ever seen. So it made sense that, all these years later, she’d still find him to be the most beautiful man in the world.
She’d gently pulled her hand free from his as the jet achieved cruising altitude. But she’d kept her headphones on for the entire rest of the flight, first pretending she was sleeping, and then—after refusing both a late night snack and the opportunity to nap in the fully appointed bedroom—she finally, truly fell blissfully asleep.
“You should’ve taken the bed,” he’d commented as the plane began its descent, as the flight attendant brought her a mug of coffee and she stirred back to life, adjusting a crick in her neck.
She looked at him questioningly, lifting her headphones off her right ear, even though she’d managed to read his lips. He repeated his words—the look on his handsome face broadcasting his wariness. Yeah, they’d talked and apologized, but it was clear that he still didn’t know quite where he stood with her. Were they friends again, or...?
“I didn’t think I’d really sleep,” she admitted, sipping the coffee carefully, but it wasn’t too hot. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Everything okay?” he asked, and she shook her head and forced a smile.
“My boyfriend’s mother is a literal queen, enough said, right?” It was the tiniest tip of the truth-iceberg, but Thomas nodded.
She sighed with relief as he allowed it to be the conversation ender she’d hoped it would be. She focused on the coffee, dropping her headphones back onto her ears.
She’d obviously dismissed him, yet after she finished and her mug was whisked away, Thomas still held out his hand, offering it to her for the landing.
Tasha took it, knowing that she shouldn’t, that the sensation of their fingers intertwining would—and did—make her foolish heart leap.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no...
She let him go as soon as the jet was safely on the ground, vowing never to do that again. Sister, sister, sister, brother, brother, brother, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit, this man was not her brother.
Tasha let him carry her bag off the plane—why not? He wanted to.
She also let him figure out the snafu—as he called it—with the missing helicopter that was supposed to take them the final leg of their journey to the mountain-top resort.
She stood quietly, eating the wrapped breakfast sandwich the flight attendant had pressed into her hands, watching Thomas work out the details as he instead arranged for a car to drive them there. And she realized that maybe this was a good thing—being forced into his company for a full week. The heart wants what the heart wants. And her heart—her fully grown-up woman’s heart—still