I’m panting and nearly out of breath as I keep checking the signs above me, making sure I’m heading in the right direction.I’m searching for Gate B52, but I’m only at B19.I better pick up my pace, or I’m not going to make it.
I look up again, noticing I need to take a left.As I pivot to turn down the long corridor, out of the corner of my eye, I see a tall guy decked out in what can only be described as an elf costume—green tunic, pointed hat, the whole nine yards—racing toward me.
I hardly have time to react.Just as I swing to avoid colliding with him, I swear I see a twinkle in his eye, and thenbam—I crash right into another man instead.Our plane tickets and papers fly across the busy terminal floor, scattering like confetti.
“Eh.Watch where you’re going!”the man snaps, his accent thick and sharp.
I’m utterly mortified.
Avoiding eye contact, we both crouch down to gather the scattered papers.As I reach for the last item, fate deals me another blow.We bump heads, adding a fresh layer of embarrassment to an already awkward situation.I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole.
When I finally muster the courage to stand, I find him scowling at me with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.Seriously, dude, are those contact lenses?No one has eyes that frosty blue.
His irrefutable handsomeness momentarily makes my breath hitch.
“I—I’m so sorry,” I stutter, struggling to tear my gaze away from the gorgeous creature whose dark brown hair is falling in waves, tousled in that sexy, effortless kind of way.The kind that makes you want to reach out and rake your fingers through it.But, of course, I fight the urge, because that would be weird, right?His strong jaw is freshly shaven, yet tightly clenched, presumably out of irritation with me for crashing into him.My eyes drift downward to his attire—dark blue denim paired with a white button-up shirt and a long black coat.Simple but sexy.
He loudly clears his throat, catching me in the act.Busted.
His gaze shifts to the ticket clutched in his hand, “Jemma, with a J.This must be yours,” he says, almost painfully as he hands some items back to me.
I quickly cram them into my carry-on.
“And you must be”—I glance down at the ticket I picked up—“Luca.”
He snatches it from my hand.“I can’t miss my flight,” he grumbles.
Okay, undeniably sexy, but incredibly rude.
Flustered, I glance around.“This is all the elf man’s fault,” I insist, pointing down the long hallway.
He follows my gesture, his eyebrows shooting up in curiosity.“Elf man?”
“He was right there,” I protest, my cheeks heating with embarrassment.“There was a man dressed like an elf.”
He taps his head and smirks.“Maybe we bumped heads harder than you think.”
I part my mouth, ready to apologize again, but he turns away, shaking his head as if I’m the craziest person he’s ever met.
“Elf man,” I mutter under my breath, wondering if I’m losing my mind.
ChapterSix
JEMMA
When I finally reach my gate, the line to board is quite long.
Looks like I didn’t need to run like a madwoman after all.
As I weave my way through a minefield of suitcases and people lounging in uncomfortable chairs, I freeze mid-step.
He’s.On.My.Flight.
The man I just collided with—Luca—is on my flight.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
The irony stabs like a pointy candy cane to the cheek.The good-looking, but sourpuss of a man that I just embarrassed myself in front of, is on my long-ass flight to Paris.
