A Lie for a Lie (All In) - Helena Hunting Page 0,8
I think I’m fine,” she mumbles. “I don’t know what to do with this.” She holds up the bag.
“Here, let me deal with it.”
“Oh God, no. My throw-up is in there.”
“It’s better if it ends up in the garbage than anywhere else, isn’t it?”
“Oh yes, much better in a garbage can.” She hands it over.
I unbuckle my seat belt, shimmy down the aisle, and drop the bag in the trash at the front of the plane, then make my way back to my seat. “Feel better?”
“A little. I’m so sorry. I’m the worst person to sit beside on a plane.”
“Not true at all. I actually like being someone’s personal teddy bear. I’d volunteer for a permanent position if it was available.” I slip my hand into my pocket, root around until I find my pack of gum, and offer it to her.
She plucks the package from my hand. “I love you so much right now.”
I laugh. “Mouth tastes that bad, huh?”
“The worst. I had a burrito at the airport.”
“Oooh. Bad call, that.”
“You’re telling me.” She pops a stick of gum into her mouth and closes her eyes, chewing a few times.
“Better?”
“So much.” She passes the pack back, but I fold her hand around it.
“It’s all yours.”
“Thank you.” She puts it in her purse and retrieves a small bottle of hand sanitizer, squeezing a dab into her palm before passing it to me.
Before I know it, we’re on our descent. Her hands are balled into fists in her lap, her eyes screwed shut.
“Hey.” I slip my arm along the back of the seat again. “You’re safe. Human teddy bear right here for safety cuddles.”
She smiles nervously and edges closer, pressing herself right against my side. “Thank you for being so nice, RJ.”
I don’t know that she’d say that if she knew I was withholding who I really am. But here on this plane I’m not the NHL forward and team captain with a history of being a player on and off the ice. I’m just a guy, and she’s just a girl.
CHAPTER 4
CABIN IN THE WOODS
Lainey
If this plane crashes, at least I’m going out on a high note.
RJ is the kind of attractive that makes a woman stop paying attention to what she’s doing and nearly end up strangling herself with her scarf. He’s tall and built, with dark hair that curls up at the nape of his neck, hazel eyes ringed with dark green, and a smile that makes my insides mushy.
I’m tucked into his side, his arm stretched out along the back of the seat, fingers curved around my shoulder, keeping me nice and safe. RJ’s arm is very sturdy, and solid, and thick, like a tree trunk. He also smells great, like fresh laundry and cologne with a hint of peppermint, likely from the gum he gave me to take care of my breath.
He dealt with my bag of vomit, which is both mortifying and insanely sweet. At least the near scarf strangulation happened before I hurled. I’m currently fisting his sweatshirt in one hand and hugging my mittens to my chest with the other. I also keep trying to bury my face in his armpit. Despite the long flight from Seattle and the tiny, cramped quarters on this plane, he still manages to smell like deodorant.
He covers the hand clutching his sweatshirt.
“I’m sorry.” I pry my fingers from the soft fabric, but before I can tuck my hand close to my own body, he threads his fingers through mine. It’s an unexpected level of intimacy.
“A couple more minutes and we’ll be on the ground again,” he reassures me.
I squeeze his hand as the plane descends and squeak out my anxiety when the wheels touch down, pressing my face against RJ’s chest.
Eventually, when it’s clear we’re bumping along the tarmac, I peek up.
RJ grins down at me; it’s disarmingly charming. “We survived.”
I look out the window at the mountains rising to my right, the water on the left. “We did.” Now that we’re on the ground I’m embarrassed all over again. “Thank you for being my personal support person and human teddy bear.”
RJ smiles even wider. “It was honestly my pleasure.”
“I don’t know if witnessing me toss my cookies was a pleasure for anyone, but thank you for being so nice.” I gather my purse and mitts, making sure I have everything before we disembark. Our luggage is waiting for us on the tarmac. The cold air coming off the water makes me shiver, probably because I’ve been