AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Though I have to look away from the brightness of his screen when his laptop wakes up. I close my eyes again, dabbing the wetness from my cheeks.
I feel self-conscious giving it back to him when it’s wet with my tears, so I curl the silk against my fingers and bite my lip, opening my eyes again.
“I can have this cleaned and return it to you, Mr. ...?”
He’d started tapping on his laptop—is it me, or is he deliberately typing with a lighter touch?—but now he stops.
Still no eye contact.
His screen is way more interesting than me. I mean, I know I’ve already made too awful a first impression to hope for a little flirting, but man, this guy is hell on a girl’s self-esteem.
“Keep it,” he rumbles.
Whoa.
For a second, I wonder if audio therapy is a real thing.
Because his voice ... it’s like standing under a waterfall that’s the same dark blue as the pocket square in my hand. Deep, soothing, heavy with this scorched sensuality that makes even those two mundane words feel like a caress.
It’s an odd contradiction when his tone is just as cold as his eyes, but the timbre and resonance are all heat and whisper-sweet darkness.
It messes me up so much I forget my headache again in the sound of his voice before I really process what he’s said.
Keep it?
He can’t be serious.
I bite my lip, but I’m too tired and hurt to protest.
So I tuck the silk square into the pocket of my jeans and mutter another “Thanks.”
I don’t expect him to answer.
I’m absolutely right.
I don’t exist in his bubble yet again, but for some reason, I’m still smiling.
I guess even weird stuffy Jet Daddies can be kind, now and then.
I’m pretty sure he turned the lights off for me too.
Someone else who’s kind: the stewardess who passes by and leans past him to look at me with a worried smile. “Hon, are you all right? You look pale.”
“Kind of my default,” I say dryly. “I get bad migraines. Already took some pills, but if I could please ask you for a water, a pillow, and a blanket, I’d be so grateful.”
“Of course!” She reaches over Jet Daddy and lightly pats my shoulder, then bustles off.
A minute later, I’ve got an ice-cold water bottle, a little airline pillow, and two blankets. I glug down the water and tuck myself into the corner, nesting with the pillow cushioning my skull.
It’s not perfect, but a little rest in Satan’s own jet is better than none at all.
Hopefully by the time I wake up, the meds will be doing their job.
And maybe Jet Daddy will remember how to grunt more than two words at me.
For now, I pull one of the blankets over my head, willing myself to sleep with the sweet distraction of his gentle typing in my ears.
When I wake up, he’s still on his laptop.
