“Are you okay?” he asks, but I can’t look him in the eye. I’m so embarrassed.
I scramble to get out of the tangled web our legs and hands have made. The level of intimate positions our limbs have to pass through to get untangled is ridiculous. It’s like the game of Twister on steroids.
I brush my bangs back as I stand. “I’m fine.”
His eyes narrow in amusement. He places both hands against the door on either side of me. “In addition to trapping me in small confined spaces,” his voice goes deep and rugged as he leans closer, “I’m adding groping me as one of your common themes.”
I swallow, pressing my back against the door. “It looks like you're doing the trapping now.” My eyes fall to his lips, not because he’s about to kiss me, but because Iwanthim to kiss me.
If there’s a will, there’s a way—that phrase just became my motto.
My wishful gaze drifts back to his eyes, checking the status of whether or not Park feels like kissing me. There’s a layer of wantonness behind his stare that tells me all systems are a go. I slow my breathing as he creeps forward.
A hard knock on the bathroom door freezes us to our spots.
“Excuse me?” It’s the male flight attendant that had to clean up my water bottle mess. “I need you to return to your seat. We’re experiencing a high amount of turbulence right now.”
You think?
“Okay,” we both answer in unison.
I panic, covering my mouth with my hand.
“We don’t allow two passengers in the lavatory at the same time,” the flight attendant chastises.
“Uh…” I look at Park with guilt streaming down my face. I’m the furthest thing from a member, or even aproposedmember, of the Mile-High Club. I guess not thefurthest thing. I was just about to kiss a man in the airplane bathroom. That has to gain me some points.
“I just had surgery,” Park speaks up. His face is totally calm, as if being caught together in the bathroom is nothing to him. “And I needed her help changing my bandages. We’ll be out in a minute.”
“Great excuse,” I whisper. He smiles back at me with his arms still on either side of my body, blocking me in. “Well, I’m just making things worse in here. So I’m going to return to my seat and let you do your thing.” My eyes gesture to his arms, signaling that I can’t get out unless he drops them.
Park leans in, lowering his voice to not quite a whisper. “It looks like I waited too long to make my move.”
His hand lowers behind me. I hold my breath, thinking it’s going to my waist, waiting for the touch, but instead, the handle on the door twists.
“Wait! Shouldn’t we stagger our exit? People are going to get the wrong idea about us in here.”
His mouth slants into an impish grin. “I hope they do.”
This is me applauding Park Bradshaw for always having the perfect flirty comeback.
Dang, he’s good.
“Right, then.” I grab the handle. “I think I’ll just go.”
I throw the flight attendant standing nearby a guilty smile as I exit. “Wound care,” I explain. “Gauze, dressings, medical tape—it needs to be done daily or else…” I let my words drift off. “I’ll just return to my seat now.”
The man sends me a pointed stare as if he doesn’t believe my excuse. “I think that would be best.”
I make my way down the aisle back to my row. Nothing about this plane ride has gone according to plan. I was supposed to act like a normal woman.
Instead, I followed a man into the bathroom.
ELEVEN
LACEE
It’sa lengthy and lonely walk through the Seattle airport to the rental car counter. The line is longer than the wait at Macy’s department store on Black Friday, which doesn’t help my mood.
