My Brother's Billionaire Best Friend - Max Monroe Page 0,112
we keep our asses in our jump seats.”
He had a point. We’d been fighting a bumpy ride ever since we’d reached altitude out of JFK. Word on the street was that a tropical storm from the Atlantic had taken an abrupt turn and fucked up our expected weather pattern. Hence the need for an early landing in Atlanta, which was only about an hour flight from our intended destination of Birmingham—one of those trips where you basically only had time to go up and come right back down.
“Oh no, honey,” Casey muttered, and I moved my eyes away from the coffee machine to look at him. I followed the path of his gaze until I realized he’d spotted a giant run in my panty hose.
“Son of a bitch.” I followed the nylon wreckage with my index finger. From the top of my kneecap to just slightly above my ankle, I had somehow ruined yet another pair of panty hose.
“Those hoes ain’t loyal,” Casey teased, and I couldn’t not laugh.
“I swear to God, how many pairs of panty hose do I need to bury before RoyalAir changes their uniform requirements?”
He grinned. “Like that’ll ever happen.”
“Don’t squash my dreams.”
“Honey, RoyalAir prides themselves on their uniforms,” he said with a wink. “And trust me, I didn’t sign on with them just because of the benefits and travel opportunities. They are literally the only airline with actual fashion taste.”
I put a free hand to my hip and pointed a box of coffee filters toward him. “When you have to wear panty hose underneath your perfectly fitted suit, then maybe your constant need to defend the dress code can be taken seriously. But until that day comes, I’m not hearing it.”
“Uh oh.” Casey chuckled. “Someone’s feisty…”
“Hell yeah, I’m feisty, Mr. ‘I get two days off in a row after this flight,’” I complained and put—more like tossed—all of the coffee supplies away into the overhead cabinet. “I’m the one who has to figure out how in the hell I’m going to sweet talk the RoyalAir agents in Atlanta to help me get to Birmingham by six in the morning or get me off that flight altogether.”
“Yeah. Okay. Sorry, honey.” He pinched his face together in a grimace. “You have every right to be pissy right now. I can’t deny the A-T-L is like the seventh circle of hell, and that’s on a good day. And don’t even get me started on the ladies in the staffing office there. Can you say divas?”
“Pissy?” I questioned with a quirk of my brow. “I thought you said I was feisty?”
“Out of everything I just said, that was all you heard?” he questioned with a quirk of his lips. “And yes, that’s exactly what I said. Pissy and feisty.” He blew me a kiss. “But I still love you all the same, honey.”
“Good evening, folks.” The overhead speakers crackled as Captain Billy greeted the plane. “Due to the continued occurrence of unexpected weather conditions and Tropical Storm Rita’s abrupt change in path, we will be landing in Atlanta in about ten minutes,” he announced. “Everyone, for your safety and the safety of the aircraft, please remain seated with your seat belts fastened in place.”
Tropical Storm Rita had moved over the southern states, hooking a hard right after making landfall in Texas, a lot quicker than originally predicted. The only safe choice was to take an early landing and let it pass, instead of staying in the air and getting stuck within the storm’s unpredictability.
Once the seat belt light dinged loud and clear, I stopped refilling the cart’s pretzel supplies and looked at Casey.
Immediately, he gave me his take on the current situation without uttering a single word. With a simple shrug of his shoulders, followed by pushing the cart into its final resting spot underneath the cabinet, he locked it into place. He might as well have just shouted toward the middle of the plane, “That’s a wrap, folks! No sodas or pretzels for you!”
“Well, I guess we now get to experience the joys of walking the aisles and dealing with the unhappy and disgruntled…” I mused, and a laugh bubbled up from his lips.
“Buckle your seat belt, honey. This customer service is going to get bumpy.”
While Casey finished locking up the overhead cabinets in the galley, I started my walk-thrus.
Surreptitiously, as I passed the first few rows of first class, my eyes strayed, moving across the rows and seats until they reached the spot where lucky number 2A