“Why is that funny?” He appears to really not understand.
“I’m in sweats, no makeup, and I barely brushed this hair.” I point to the messy bun piled on top of my head.
“Exactly. You’re a natural beauty.”
“Right,” I laugh. “Now you, do you model?” He’s the one that laughs this time, a low chuckle rumbling from him. What am I doing sitting next to this man?
It’s only day one of my adventure, and I’ve already found myself in over my head with a man who likely rides a motorcycle full-time, based on his vibe. I know that the watch he’s wearing is worth over a hundred grand, and he is sitting in first class. With a watch like that, he should be flying private.
“No modeling for me.”
“What do you do then?”
“I run an organization, I suppose you could say, which means I do a bit of everything.”
“Your tattoos—” I trail off, realizing that what I was about to say could be misconstrued as rude.
“What? Don’t fit?” He must hear that often. “I typically have long-sleeve button-up shirts on so they’re mostly hidden, but I’m on vacation.”
“Right.”
“Didn’t we all have our rebellious years as teens?” he teases me.
“My idea of rebelling was going to college early, where I went to zero parties and on a handful of dates.” I don’t know why, but I have this need to warn him how boring I really am.
“Dates.” He grabs on to the singular word. “When was the last one you went on?”
I hold my fingers up. “Two days ago.”
“Peace back at you.” I jerk my head back to see one of the drunk guys from the bar flashing me a peace sign. I drop my hand. “What?” he asks.
“Keep moving your ass.” One of the guys pushes at his back to make his friend keep walking. “I got you.” Then he winks at me. “See you when we land.” Is that a warning, or is that his idea of flirting? Caldwell must take it as a threat because he grabs the man’s forearm and yanks him down close to him. I can’t hear what Caldwell says to him, but I can see that the blood drains from his face.
“So?” Caldwell says loud enough for me to hear this time.
“I’m sorry, from all of us. We apologize,” the man says.
“Oh, okay,” I respond, and Caldwell releases his hold. I notice the flight attendant watching this all play out, and I worry that Caldwell might get in trouble, but she simply turns around. “You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“I won’t get in trouble,” he says with utter confidence. “But it wouldn’t matter. I refuse to sit here and let him either try to flirt with you right in front of me or allow him to make you uncomfortable because he’s not getting the reaction he wants.”
“Thanks.” Shyness fills me. It’s sweet he’s sticking up for me when he doesn’t have to. I take another sip of my champagne, and the flight attendant starts to do her spiel about safety.
“Did you bring anything to do on the flight?” Caldwell asks, stretching his legs out as he leans back in his chair.
“My eReader. You?”
“I have my laptop. This was all very last minute.” He gives a small shake of his head, but he’s smiling.
“You’re close with your brother?” I ask, wanting to know more about him.
We fall into easy conversation. I find out he is close with his brother but doesn’t get to see him as often as he’d like. Caldwell also sounds like a workaholic. That’s what he spends most of his time doing, at least from what he’s told me.
“So this is a much-needed vacation.”
“I suppose, but I enjoy my work. It keeps me busy.”
Then he starts asking questions of his own.
