read my thoughts, he asked, “Have you heard from Ryker since your…date the other night?”
Shit.
I still avoided looking at him as I answered. “Um, yeah,” I mumbled. I thought about lying, but I didn’t like lying to Parker, so I told the truth. “We went out Saturday evening.” I plucked an imaginary bit of lint from my skirt.
Parker was silent for a moment. “I see.” Disapproval laced his words. “You do realize the only reason he asked you out is because of me.”
I jerked my head up, stunned and hurt that he’d say that to me. Our eyes met and his gaze was shrewd as he looked at me.
“Could you possibly be more insulting?” I hissed, keeping my voice down so I didn’t make the scene I dearly wanted to make by clobbering him over the head. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a single woman, with a decent job, good hair, who works out on a semi-regular basis.” No sense stretching the truth on that last one. “It’s not like I’m a troll.”
Just then, a woman’s voice came over the intercom, announcing first-class boarding for our flight. Parker was the first to look away in our staring contest, gathering up his things. He stood, then glanced down at me.
“Aren’t you coming?”
Still pissed, I snapped, “I’m in coach.”
He nodded and I expected him to leave, but he paused. Leaning down until his mouth was near my ear, he said, “Yeah. I noticed.” Then he was gone.
I watched him disappear down the Jetway, my mouth agape.
With any other man, I’d say he’d been flirting with me. But it was Parker, so what did that mean? Or did it mean anything? He had just been answering my question, after all.
It didn’t matter. He’d been an asshole, saying that about Ryker. I sipped my coffee, glumly staring out the window at the plane while I waited for my row to be called. Finally, it was my turn to board. I glanced at Parker seated in the first-class section as I walked by, but he was engrossed in his iPad.
Since I’d gotten my ticket so late, I had the dreaded middle seat, and when I got to my row, I wanted to groan in dismay. Seated by the window was one of the biggest guys I’d ever seen—like muscle-bound, MMA fighter, don’t-mess-with-me kind of big. It amazed me that he’d been able to squeeze into the seat, but since quite a bit of him overlapped into mine, I guess I could see how he’d managed.
Stowing my carry-on in the overhead bin, I smiled at him as he glanced up when I sat down. He didn’t smile back. Great.
I squeezed into the seat, digging for the seat belt. The guy’s arm overlapped into my space, as did his leg. I sighed. It was only a bit over two hours for the flight to New York. Surely it wouldn’t be that bad.
Just then, a woman came down the aisle with two boys in tow. The youngest could only have been three or four; the oldest looked maybe seven. The mom looked up at the rows, then sat the older boy in the empty seat next to me while she and the other kid sat across the aisle.
Joy.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like kids. I did. Kids were great. Just so long as I didn’t have to talk to them, listen to them, or basically interact with them in any way.
I found out pretty quick that the youngest boy was named Steven and the oldest Jeffrey, because the mom was constantly saying their names, trying to get them to behave. They had a slew of electronic toys, coloring books and crayons, and various action figures that they were constantly dropping and having to squirm down to the floor to pick up.
The first few times, I tried to help, but then Jeffrey beat me to it, his foot smacking me in the face as I leaned down. The mom didn’t even notice—her hands were full with Steven, the little monster—and Jeffrey didn’t either. He had his hands on his toys again, though now the electronics caught his eye. No earphones meant I got to hear the beeping and repetitive music of Mario for what seemed an eternity.
When the flight attendant came by to pass out drinks, I prayed the mom would see sense and not let the boys have them. But it was not to be. Smooshed in my seat, I watched in dismay as she set a