Ignoring my father’s warning growl, Alex’s lips brush my temple for the second time this evening. “Are you okay?” he asks a short time later, put off by my silence but longing to ease my pain.
I nod, answering him with the same number of words we’ve shared since our foray in my childhood bedroom. I’m not quiet because I’m frustrated. Who in their right mind would be? Alex’s arrogant, controlling crash into my life frustrates the living hell out of me, but there isn’t a word in the dictionary that can describe what I feel when he devotes his attention on me.
This afternoon, he was bossy and domineering—the hottest I’ve ever seen him. That notion should scare me. I’ve been on my own way too long to find dominant, superiority-seeking men appealing, but there is something about Alex that has me seeing things differently.
He’s not assertive because he’s placing me below him. He’s striving to show me he can handle a woman as fierce and independent as me. He doesn’t want to change me; he wants to protect me. If that protection comes without a side dish of babying, I’m open to the possibility. . .maybe?
Attraction is a scary thing. It bolts through your body without warning, exhilarating your veins with a lethal combination of thrill, excitement, and need. It makes you heedless. Giddy. Sometimes a little stupid. But once the attraction is requited, it generally moves on. We stop skipping down the street and making sickening ga-ga faces at random strangers who have no idea we’ve been jabbed in the butt by Cupid’s arrow. Life returns to normal.
Usually.
That hasn’t happened with Alex yet. The nervous butterflies in my stomach and the flighty feeling in my head are still present, so much so, I’m wondering if Cupid is peering down at me, laughing his ass off. He must have struck me more than once, otherwise what other excuse could I have for what I’m feeling? I don’t do. . .this.
Ignoring my heart’s painful squeeze of denial, I clamber onto the sidewalk outside of the domestic terminal on Alex’s heel. After scooting past his wide shoulders, I throw my arms around my daddy’s neck. I hug him as fiercely as I did my mom and Ayden an hour ago. Mercifully, he returns my embrace. I wasn’t sure he would after what he walked in on.
“Come back soon, baby girl,please?”
Tears prick my eyes from the plea in his tone. “I will. I promise.”
He clutches me for a few minutes longer, ensuring he gets a year’s worth of hugs in one visit. I understand his plight. Remorse has made my trips home very sporadic the past eight years, but I don’t see them being so few and far between anymore. It will always hurt coming back here, but with good memories replacing some of the bad, it will be easier to return.
“Weston’s birthday is next month. His momma is organizing a spit. Why don’t you come back for that? He’d love to see you.”
I pull back from my daddy’s broad chest. “I’ll try, but I have to check Isaac’s schedule first.”
The squint of Alex’s gaze eases when my dad grumbles something under his breath. They’ve never met, but my dad’s disdain for Isaac is as profound as it is for Alex. Not knowing the entire story, he blames Isaac for my dwindling contact the past eight years.
He couldn’t be further from the truth if he tried.
I’ve lost count of the number of times Isaac has offered to charter me home in his private jet. He even said he’d drive me if my reason for not visiting centered around a fear of flying. He wants me to heal just as much as both Alex and my father.
“Do you think Kate would mind me adding a plus one to the invitation?”
Wild nerves take flight in my stomach when I shift on my feet to face Alex, ensuring my dad is aware who I’m referring to. “What do you say, Mister Fancy Pants? Are you up for some more farmyard antics?”
“Rae. . .”
My dad’s warning snarl quickens my pulse, but it is barely a blip on the radar when Alex nods without pause for consideration. I never thought I’d see the day. An olive branch offered and accepted between us without bloodshed.Who could have predicted this?
After a final promise to return more frequently—and a wordless request for leniency—I give my dad one last hug before Alex and I make our way to the check-in counter. With my father’s lecture on being respectful under his roof exceeding its usual thirty-minute timeframe, we arrive at our gate with barely a second to spare.
Fortunately, the airline representatives are more accommodating of tardiness when you’re a priority customer.
* * *
“Welcome back to business class, Ms. Myers. Can we start your service with a beverage? Perhaps a glass of sparkling wine?” James greets after takeoff, his smile widening when he spots Alex sitting next to me, caressing my hand in his.
“A drink would be lovely, but I’m more a martini girl. Shaken, not stirred. Skip the olives.”
With a wink revealing he heard the underlying message in my request, James skedaddles to the back of the plane. With Alex and me the only business class flyers on this redeye to Ravenshoe, he has no other guests to accommodate.
The fine hairs on my nape prickle when Alex presses his lips to my ear. “If you’re aiming to make me jealous, you missed the boat with James. His Tinder details are still in my wallet.”
My eyes snap to his so fast, our lips briefly brush. “I wasn’t flirting with James. I was setting the mood.”
Alex remains quiet, somewhat confused.
It clears when I ask, “Care to become a member of the mile high club, Mr. Rogers?”
