Page 47 of One Midnight Kiss

18

NATALIA

Iwheeled my carry-on across the polished floors of SeaTac, checking my ticket stub for the third time since I walked through security. I wasn’t nervous—at least that was what I kept telling myself.

It was just a business trip. No big deal. Just because Fox was ridiculously hot and there was some serious chemistry between us, it meant nothing. We were going to be on a packed plane. We were staying in separate rooms. There was nothing to be weirded out about.

The familiar buzz of the airport filled my ears. Even this late at night, the typical sound of rolling suitcases, footsteps and rushed conversations echoed around the airport. I always felt a bit out of place in airports, like I didn’t belong to the crowd of seasoned travelers who moved with purpose and ease.

I was taking a carry-on and nothing else. I didn’t want to risk my luggage getting lost. That would be a disaster.

As I made my way toward the gate, I caught sight of a bar tucked into the corner. I wasn’t planning on stopping until I noticed a familiar silhouette sitting at the bar, nursing a beer. Fox. Of course he was here early, like he had nowhere else he needed to be. For a split second, I considered walking right past him, hoping he wouldn’t see me. But that felt childish considering we were going to be on the same plane. The memory of that moment in the elevator, the one that had left me feeling all sorts of conflicted, nudged me forward. Was I up for the challenge?

A sly smile crept onto my face. Decision made, I veered toward the bar and slid onto the stool next to Fox. He looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes.

“Natalia,” he greeted, a small, amused smile on his lips. “Of all the bars in all the world, you walk into mine.”

“It’s right by the gate,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You’re here early.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Yes, please. Red wine.”

He gave me a strange look, his expression flickering with something like recognition, before he snapped out of it and ordered the drink.

I might have needed two drinks. I looked at the ticket stub once again.

“You nervous?” he asked.

I gave a small, involuntary laugh, rolling the ticket stub between my fingers. “Is it that obvious?”

He shrugged. “Just a hunch. You’ve been staring at that ticket like it’s a puzzle you’re trying to solve.”

I sighed. “I hate flying. Always have. It’s irrational, but it is what it is.”

“Doesn’t sound irrational to me,” he said, surprising me. “I’m not a big fan either.”

I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Really? You travel all the time.”

“Doesn’t mean I like it,” he said simply before taking a sip of his beer. “I just pretend I do.”

I took a long drink of my wine. It eased a bit of the tension in my chest, but sitting next to Fox did the opposite.

“I’m surprised you don’t have a private jet,” I said.

He scoffed. “Have you seen the statistics on those? How many celebrities and rich people die in crashes? No thank you. I may be stupid, but I’m not that stupid.”

I chuckled, surprised by his candidness. “So, you’re afraid of heights?”

“No,” he said quickly, looking straight at me. “I don’t fear heights. What I fear is falling ten thousand feet out of the sky.”

“Fair enough.” I took another sip of my wine, more out of necessity now than anything else.

“Have you flown private?” he asked.

“A few times.”

“Did you like it?”