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I’m not surprised when I see the giant private plane with the name KEAL written across the tail. Hunter guides me up the stairs, where we are greeted by a man who looks to be about my age. He’s in a button-up shirt and a pair of black slacks. He almost looks like a businessman ready for a meeting, except he has a tray gripped in his other hand.
“Mrs. Keal. It’s a pleasure to be serving you this afternoon. Can I get you anything?” Hunter’s thumb moves back and forth against my collar bone. Both of them seem to be waiting for an answer from me. I was taken aback that I was greeted before Hunter. Normally I stand in the back and try and pretend to be invisible. My brother always takes center stage. He demands it while leaving me in his shadow to fend for myself.
“Rose?” Hunter prompts when I don’t answer the man.
“I’ll have-” I trail off, not sure what I’ll have. What is wrong with me? I’m supposed to be pretending to be a snooty brat right now. That kiss and his touches are starting to be my undoing. I have to get myself together and get my wits about me. I can’t allow Hunter to unravel me so easily. I need to be tougher.
“Get my wife a menu,” he tells the man, who nods. “This way, dear.” Hunter guides me over to one of the seats. The plane is freaking giant. I can already tell there is likely a bedroom or two. My breath catches. Will we be using it? A flight to Rome has to be long. We’ll likely sleep but will it be together? Will it be more than sleep? My body is screaming yes but my mind is still trying to play catch up.
The man comes back a moment later, handing Hunter a drink and me a menu before disappearing again. “You have a menu? Fancy,” I tease him.
Hunter throws his drink back before dropping the glass back down onto a table then taking a seat next to me. There are five million other seats but again he’s pressing himself against me. If I was a freaking cat I’d probably purr but I do my best to pretend my body isn’t going haywire at his closeness while still secretly enjoying it.
“I had a menu crafted for you,” he says as he stretches his legs out. I stare at the menu, seeing all of my favorite foods are listed on it. Everything from crème brûlée to a barbecue cheeseburger, spaghetti with meatballs, and my all-time favorite, prime rib. How do they even have all of these things on a plane?
“How did you…” I trail off before an unexpected knot forms in my throat. My eyes begin to sting at his effort to make me feel comfortable. This is too sweet. I’ll never be able to hold out emotionally if he does little thoughtful things for me.
“What can I get you?” The man appears almost out of thin air again. His sudden appearance reminds me to get it together.
“I shouldn’t but the crème brûlée.” I lick my lips thinking about the treat already. “Thank you,” I add. “What was your name?” I realize I was in such a daze when I got on the plane I rudely forgot to ask him.
“Mark,” he answers quickly.
“Thank you, Mark,” I say again.
“Anything else for you, sir?” He looks to Hunter.
“Bring my wife the prime rib too. Medium with raw horseradish.” Mark nods again before taking off. Holy crap. How did Hunter know so many details about me? Furthermore, he remembers them and has them all ready and waiting. He takes it a step further by not only having my favorite things but knowing how I liked them prepared.
“He’s nice,” I tell Hunter, leaning back in my seat. Not sure what to say or do now. All of his staff have been kind to me. Hunter is having some nice, almost sweet moments himself. My brother’s staff ignores me for the most part. It’s probably at his direction because he is the only one that matters, according to him. I was always only the pretty face. My mood darkens for a moment when I go down that road. Hunter’s voice breaks me out of my thoughts.
“I set the menu.” He almost pouts. I have to fight a laugh. It gives me a glimpse inside the hard exterior he keeps showing me. There might be more to him than I’m seeing. I almost feel stupid that I haven’t already thought of that. I am a prime example. I live it every time I go out in public. Hell, I live it anytime I’m not alone or with my friend Cara or Aunt Nora. I am always pretending to be who my brother wants or my family name demands. But I’m not a Vandermeer anymore. I feel free when I think those words.
