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I try and fail to stifle a groan when I begrudgingly make my way forward to find out what’s happened now.
The young woman there smiles brightly at me with perfectly straight teeth and an adorable black bob cut I could never pull off. “How may I help you?”
“I’m Ella Danes,” I say and point to the screen.
“Oh, yes. The previous plane we had scheduled is delayed, and we’re using another to keep all other flights on track which means your seat changed. Let me print your new ticket so you know where to go.”
And here I thought this trip couldn’t get any worse. I’m probably going to be moved right next to the bathroom or in the back row. Lucky me. Saint Lucia better be worth all this hell.
“Here you go,” the agent says, offering me another smile.
I wonder if she can smell the bad day on me.
“Thanks,” I mutter and turn around while looking over the ticket. My eyes widen when I see it says 3A. I whip my head back. “Is this correct?”
She nods. “I hope you have a better day, Ella.”
I don’t know this woman, but I want to hug her. Hell, I could even kiss her. The only thing keeping me from doing so is the idea of her screaming and me missing my flight.
After everything I’ve been through this week and just today, first-class sounds like the perfect way to spend the next five hours.
My shoulders sag, and I meet her kind eyes. “You have no idea how much I needed this.”
“We all need a reason to smile,” she replies with a genuine grin.
Isn’t that the truth.
I back up so she can do her job, then stand just ten-or-so feet away from where people will line up. It’s only another minute before first class is called, and I gladly hand the same agent my newly printed ticket.
She scans it and I thank her properly before heading toward the plane.
“Enjoy your flight,” she replies.
I sure as hell plan on it.
I get to my seat, and I’m beyond giddy. Even though I have a good job in lending for a small-scale bank, making decent money that allows me to afford my house and car without worrying where my next meal will come from, I’ve never splurged on extras like this.
My bag gets shoved in the overhead compartment, but I keep my purse with me. I have my kindle inside and intend on reading during the flight. Well, so long as I can keep the motion sickness at bay.
As I’m situating my things, I take a moment to appreciate the lush leather seats and the way they hug my body. I also see the buttons for the recline option in case I want a nap. I’m not tired, but I might take one just for the hell of it.
The person next to me arrives. Low and behold, I’m nearly positive it’s the guy who bumped into me earlier. I ignore him when he unbuttons his suit coat, loosens his tie, and takes his seat.
Okay, I try to ignore him, but he’s rather attractive with his finger-length businessman haircut that’s parted at the side, and the straight jawline, bright blue eyes, and… Oh, my God. What am I doing?
No. Men.
Not even vacation men. No matter what, I will stick to my period of celibacy while I focus on myself and my job and my friends and not the sexy man next to me.
“Hi,” he says with a wave.
I raise my hand without saying anything. I’m afraid my words will betray me, just like my best friend did.
“Business or pleasure?” he asks.
If I say pleasure—which seems like a poor choice of words on his part—and I’m alone, I’ll look like a loser. If I say business and he asks what I do, I have no idea what to lie about, because I have no clue why a businessperson would come to Saint Lucia.
Instead of telling the truth, I say, “A little of both.” Then, I turn on my kindle and hope he gets the point.
When he lets me start to read without further interruption, I think maybe he wasn’t trying to be an asshole earlier when he brushed past me in such a hurry. Maybe he ate something bad the night before and couldn’t wait to use the bathroom. Who knows?
Either way, I don’t care. Or, more accurately, I can’t care. I’m going to ignore the slight smattering of hair on his face, the way his nearly black hair glistens under the stream of sunlight coming through my window, and how I tighten my legs together. The more I glance at him, the more intrigued I am.
Son of a bitch. This cannot and will not happen.
The stranger buckles up and leans his head back. I silently sigh in relief that he doesn’t try to continue the conversation.
I came on this vacation to heal and forget men. I want Saint Lucia to be the best damn vacation I’ve ever had, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure that dream comes true.
No cabana boys for me. No lickable strangers. Only warm, sunny beaches and sugary drinks until I’m forced back to reality.
