Page 5 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

Great. Just what I needed. Authority issues and a uniform.

I let out a short laugh, leaning back into my seat. “That’s one way of putting it.”

He studies me, trying to piece everything together. “Let me guess. Delayed flight. Lost luggage. Existential crisis?”

“Close,” I reply. “Public breakup, emotional devastation, mild identity crisis… but we’re keeping it light.”

That gets a reaction. A flicker of surprise, followed by an expression that looks a little too much like interest.

“Impressive,” he murmurs.

I narrow my eyes slightly. “Do you always comment on strangers’ trauma, or am I just lucky?”

“Just you.”

“Lucky me.”

There’s a beat where neither of us looks away, and a sizzle settles into place between us. It’s sharp, electric.

“Just so we’re clear,” I say, leaning slightly closer, because apparently, I’ve decided today is the day I antagonize attractive strangers, “if you turn out to be as insufferable as you seem, I will make this the longest flight of your life.”

His gaze drops to my mouth before lifting again. “I was hoping you would.”

That makes my pulse scatter in a way I’m not prepared to unpack.

I lean back, folding my arms. “If this is your version of charming, I’d hate to see what you’re like when you’re not trying.”

His mouth twitches, but his eyes don’t soften. “Most people would take the upgrade and enjoy it. You seem determined to fight your way through it instead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I reply sweetly. “Was I supposed to sit here quietly and be grateful? Smile politely while you stare at me like I’m in-flight entertainment?”

“You’re the one who engaged.”

“You were staring.”

“And you liked it.”

I sit up straighter, heat flashing through me. “You're unbelievably full of yourself.”

“And you didn’t move.”

The way he says it, like he already knows, sends a flicker of heat low in my stomach.

I shift slightly in my seat, meaning to put space between us. His hand moves then, slow enough that I could stop it if I wanted to. Yet I remain exactly where I am.

His fingers brush lightly against my wrist where it rests, barely there, like he’s testing something.

My breath catches before I can stop it, so I snap out once more. “I didn’t feel like letting a stranger boss me around.”

“No,” he says, watching me too closely now, “you didn’t feel like walking away.”

His thumb drags once along the inside of my wrist.

It’s nothing.

It’s everything.

“You don’t know anything about me,” I snap, but the strength has gone out of my voice.