The flight attendant came by one last time. “Sir, we’re landing.”
“I know,” I say quietly, then nod toward the human sandbag on me. “Just give me a minute.”
The attendant gives me a look that saysnot my problem, but she keeps it polite. “Take your time.”
Maybe Aurora was right.
“Ms. Rodriguez. We’re here.” I gently shifted my arm. She slides further onto me, making it worse.
“Ms. Rodriguez?”
Nothing.
“Aurora.”
Nada.
“Rabbit,” I whispered. “Get the fuck up.”
Still nothing.
I exhaled through my nose, then did what I had to do: I unbuckled, braced my feet, and slid an arm behind her back.Her body was warm and soft and annoyingly light for how much trouble she causes.
I lifted her but not a bridal carry. I moved her like I’m moving a very mouthy piece of furniture. Her head lolled against my shoulder. She made a tiny sound then settled again.
I stepped into the aisle with her in my arms and a few people stared like this is cute.
It is not cute. I feel like a kidnapper.
At the gate I spotted my assistant before she spotted me, which was easy because she held her clipboard and scanned faces with the determination of somebody who never had an orgasm.
Lav’s in her mid-to-late twenties, neat afro pulled back, glasses that make her look even more serious than she already is.
Navy blazer.
Sensible shoes.
A tote bag that I knew had emergency pens and chargers inside it. Just an all around dork but, in a good way.
Her eyes landed on me… then on Aurora in my arms.
She froze but recovered so fast I almost respected it.
“Mr. Sinclair,” she greeted. “Welcome back.”
“Lavender. You got the car?”
“Yes, sir. The SUV is waiting at curbside. I have the hotel details and the itinerary printed.” She gestured to her clipboard then her gaze flicks to Aurora again. Like she was seeing a fallen angel. “Is Ms. Rodriguez… alright?”
“She’s asleep,” I said.
Lavender’s brows knit. “Asleep or… sedated?”
I looked at her. “Do I look like someone who’d drug a woman, Lavender?”
“No! No! Not at all!” She pushed her glasses up. “It’s just some people do take a lot of drugs to get through a flight. Others do the… medically committed sleep when they?—”
“Lavender. She’s knocked out,” I cut in. “Like a toddler after a tantrum.”
