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a drink?”
Lexie turned her head to the left and finally looked at the owner of the big shoes. Tears blurred Lexie’s vision, but she didn’t need to see perfectly to recognize a handsome man. The kind of handsome that made a woman glad she’d recently had her dark roots dyed to match her blond hair, and her eyelash extensions touched up. At the moment, she was immune to men. Even handsome men with dark skin and stunning green eyes.
“What do you have?” She brushed the tears from her eyes. The guy had dark brown hair that touched the collar of his jacket. The five o’clock shadow covering his square chin and jaws made his skin even darker. And he was big. The kind of big that came from genetics and workouts. Beneath that black jacket he wore, he was probably all hard abs, sculpted chest, and big pecs. The kind she’d sworn off after her last relationship. Well, the last relationship before Pete. Testosterone rolled off the guy like carbon monoxide. Invisible and deadly.
“Grey Goose and tonic.” He pulled a fifth of vodka from a YETI cooler between the seats.
“Any lemon?” He was the kind of big that might intimidate some women, but not Lexie. She was five-ten and liked the way she fit against a big man’s chest.
He chuckled, and fine lines creased the corners of his green eyes. “No, princess.”
“I’m not a princess.” Lexie was more of a wine drinker, but needs must, and a shot of vodka or two would calm her agitated nerves.
He pointed the bottle at her head. “You have a crown on your head.”
“Yeah.” She raised her hands and pulled the first of many bobby pins from her hair. Lexie had been raised around hockey players. Powerful men with big muscles and chests. At a young age, she’d been exposed to toxic levels of testosterone. She was immune to all three: powerful men, big muscles, toxic testosterone.
“Is that a ‘yeah’ you have a crown? Or ‘yeah’ you want a drink?”
“Both.” Her fingers pulled more pins until she was able to pry the veil off her head. “More tonic than vodka.” As a kid, she’d loved hanging out with her dad and the Seattle Chinooks. For the past few years, though, she’d paid less and less attention to the ice arena. She’d never admit it to her dad, but she hadn’t seen a game this season. She’d focused most of her time on expanding her company, adding new sections and subsections to her business plan, which now included opening her first brick-and-mortar store.
“Hey, Lex.” Jimmy looked over his shoulder at her, and green light from the instrument panel washed across his profile. “That was epic. Reminds me of the time I had to save you and Marie from Tony Bruno’s houseboat.”
That had been one of the few times she’d acted on impulse, and it served as a reminder that impulsive behavior had consequences, but high school shenanigans paled in comparison to today’s spectacle. “Thanks for helping me out.” Jimmy was steady and reliable and, more importantly, headed for Canada.
“Been a while since I had to rescue you two.”
Lexie was ashamed to admit it, but other than two real occasions, she and Marie had only pretended that they needed rescuing. Ninety-nine percent of the time, they’d called Jimmy because he’d had a car, parents who were never home, and they’d needed a ride somewhere. They’d justified their behavior by telling themselves that it was okay because they were getting nerdy Jimmy out of his house. As an adult, she felt guilty about that and she’d been secretly trying to make up for it whenever possible by sending business Jimmy’s way—no matter his latest scheme.
“I think the last time was when someone stole Marie’s wallet and you two didn’t have cab fare home from the mall.”
While Lexie hadn’t been drawn to crazy impulses, she had been a huge liar, but she was a mature woman with her own business now. She was responsible for a dozen employees. She had an image to protect. She might lie by omission to spare someone’s feelings:
Marie’s combat boot.
Jimmy and his aviator cap.
She prided herself on telling the truth. She hadn’t concocted lying schemes in seven or eight years now, and she never gave in to crazy impulses.
Until today. Or rather the day she’d tried out for Gettin’ Hitched. That one crazy impulse had ultimately landed her in the Sea Hopper wearing a dress that looked like a meringue kiss.
“I got a new business you might want to invest in.”
Jimmy always had a new business. In tenth grade, it had been selling the pot he’d grown in his parents’ greenhouse in Medina. In the twelfth grade, he’d been a bookie. Jimmy’s businesses always thrived until the cops showed up. Even though she owed Jimmy for past lies and present peccadilloes, the last thing she wanted to do was listen to his latest scheme.
He told her anyway. “It’s called Scooter Subs. I have three couriers who deliver sandwiches and chips on red Vespas retrofitted with metal coolers on the rack behind the seat. Food delivery is the future. You and Marie should get in on this one.”
No thanks.
“Is Marie seeing anyone special?”
In middle school, Jimmy had developed a deep and abiding crush on her best friend. Too bad for him, Marie had never returned his feelings. Not then, not now. “Not at the moment.”
He smiled, and she was afraid she’d given him false hope. “How long is the flight?” she asked to change the subject.
“Three and a half hours.” He returned his attention to the controls in front of him.
Three and a half hours? It didn’t take three and a half hours to fly anywhere in Vancouver. “Where are we going?”
