CHAPTER ONE
LIESEL
Ilook at my boarding pass as if the power of my glare alone will make this airplane leave on time.
“Attention, all passengers. Blue Horizon Airlines flight 211 to Phoenix has been delayed. Blue Horizon Airlines flight 211 from Chicago to Phoenix has been delayed. The new departure time is 9 a.m.”
Cool. It’s cool. I’ve only been here since 5 a.m., and everything.
What good is arriving at the airport two hours before a flight if they can go and delay you an extra hour? Again?
I sigh and walk to the seating area to wait. The airport is decorated for Christmas. The terminal’s main atrium is decked in huge garland, beautiful red bows, and white lights in the shape of flying birds so iconic, they belong in a movie (Home Alone 2, anyone?).
I’m glad I’m not in the main atrium.
But even this boarding area is too festive for my taste, and the passengers are wearing far too much red and green. Blech.
I glance around the seating area. It’s completely full, but I spot a couple getting up to leave, and I wait with the determination of a predator. The couple smiles as they pass me at the end of the aisle, and I swoop in.
At the same time, a tall, athletic guy in a red Christmas cowboy hat—complete with a buckle and white fur trim—comes from the other end of the aisle. He drops to one of the two empty seats, and I walk toward the other. Not ideal, but it’s the only other seat in the entire terminal.
I’m about to take the remaining seat when he sets his carry-on in the open chair.
Who does that? The airport is packed!
“Whew,” he says to the passenger next to him. “That was lucky. I thought I’d missed my flight. Good thing it was delayed!”
Good thing it was delayed? This is the second delay!
I stand in front of the extra seat. He pulls up his phone. All I can see is the top of his stupid Santa-inspired Stetson.
The man doesn’t look up.
I tap my foot and clear my throat.
Nothing.
“Excuse me,” I say. I touch his strong shoulder, because his attention is fixed on whatever article he’s reading.
“Yes?” His face flits up too fast for me to catch more than a glimpse of a beard and a face tat.
You heard me: he has a tattoo on his face.
A Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer face tattoo.
I look at the chair, because the colorful Rudolph covering every remaining inch of his left cheek above his beard and beneath his hat is too distracting.
“You set your bag down in the last open seat in the boarding area. Can I sit here?”
“Oh, sure.” He moves his bag underneath his chair, and I sit next to him.
And because I’m annoyed, I call my best friend. She answers on the second ring.
“Hey, I’m almost at the hospital, so I only have five minutes before work,” she says. “What’s up?”
“Jules, why am I like this?”
“You mean smart and gorgeous?”
