Wistfulness swims in her expression at the mention of her aunt. “Perhaps. Or he’s just a little misguided.”
“You have so much grace. I was about to tell him to fuck off.”
Shaking her head, she laughs. “I know you were. The anger radiated off you. If I told everyone who got it wrong to fuck off, I’d be all out of fucks to give. Gotta save those fucks for when I truly need them.”
I huff an incredulous laugh. “I seem to have an ample supply.”
“Perhaps we should get you some herbal tea, then.” She pats my knuckles.
Without thinking, I envelop her hand in mine. Her touch is the only calming elixir I need or want.
“You said you’re still into hockey…do you still play to stay close to your dad?”
I shift in my seat. “Yes.”
“I’m glad.” Her fingers tighten around mine. “It’s important to hold on to the things that keep us close to the people we love.”
I clear my throat. “Do you have something like that with your dad?”
“I was so young when he died. He’s just a picture in a frame to me.” The corners of her mouth tick down into a small frown.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I never missed him. At least not the way I think you’re supposed to. It may be because of my Aunt Bea. She was my dad’s twin sister. My grandmother always said they were two peas in a pod, so in a way I had a piece of him through her.” Sadness shimmers in her stare.
My thumb strokes along her smooth skin, wanting to ask what darkened her brightness. A wave of selfishness washes through me when I look at Pen. I want to coax free every secret, sad memory, happy thought, and all that lives within her.
“We’re like the most depressing seatmates.” She chuckles, her face crinkled with what looks like self-reproach. “Maybe we should nix the tea and get mimosas. We need to liven this place up.” Her lips pucker, seeming to consider something. “Truth or dare?”
“What?”
She pokes me with her free hand. “You heard me, hubby. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.” I grin.
“Tell me a secret.” Her forehead wrinkles. “A fun one. I think we’ve done enough emotional vomiting this morning.”
One secret raises its hand, wanting to be told. My eyes fall to her mouth, watching the flash of white teeth bite into that plump lower lip. I want to lean across the armrest and sink into her lips. Make her whimper with a nipping kiss, coaxing her to open for me. To slide my tongue against hers, drinking up what I know – without having ever tasted – would be the most decadent thing I’ve ever consumed.
“A secret,” I murmur, raising my free hand to her face, cradling her cheek. Brushing the rough pads of my fingers against her silken skin, her eyes close like a kitten reveling in the soft strokes of loving hands. On the ice, I play with no regard for anything but what I want. And what I want right now is to claim her pretty mouth for mine.
“Rowan,” she says, a tiny hitch in her breath.
“Pen,” I whisper, leaning in…
A sudden jerk yanks us apart. My back crashing into the seat.
“Turbulence?” Pen’s hand clutches mine.
This feels like more than the standard bumps of air travel. Jolts rattle the cabin, causing passengers to shift violently in their seats. Gasps and screams fill the plane. My arms wrap around Pen, holding her close with the increasingly rough turbulence.
“Folks, this is your captain.” The pilot’s steady voice crackles over the intercom. “Please ensure you’re seated with your belt buckled. Flight attendants, take your seats.”
Two flight attendants grip the seats, trying to make their way down the aisle. A sudden violent shift flings one forward, the other grabs her arm to steady her but misses.
“Please ensure your belts are secure. Put up tray tables.” The male flight attendant who took our drink order commands,helping the other one off the ground. Both amble toward their seats.
“What’s happening?” Pen’s eyes widen, her body burrowing deep into my side.
