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What’s worse is I’ve missed her this last week. So many times I’ve picked up the phone to call or text her, but there was really nothing for me to say. I just wanted to hear her voice. She’s made it clear she’s not interested in me, and although even a friendship would be something for me to build off, I’m not sure she would be up for that. Her texts have been about our trip and nothing else. Every time my phone dings with a notification and I see it’s her, my chest flutters with excitement like I’m some prepubescent teenage girl with a crush. And every time it’s a text about our trip, nothing more. I’ve tried to engage her on more than one occasion with a silly question or some random thought that pops into my head, but those only get one-word answers or nothing at all. I know I should take the hint, but let’s be honest, giving up isn’t in my DNA.
Operation Perfect Boyfriend has begun, and I’m starting it with a bang. Knowing Abigail’s fear of flying and her aversion to anyone seeing her vulnerable, I decided to charter a private plane. It’s similar to the one we took to Costa Rica, and I already have a selection of Abigail’s favorite wines on board. It’s not a long flight, but I figured more is better when it comes to wine and Abigail.
“Well, well, well,” I hear Abigail’s voice as she boards the plane. I’ve already made myself comfortable with a glass of scotch and a paper in the cabin.
“Still too good for commercial, I see.” She quirks a brow at me as she throws her purse and jacket on the seat across from me. I’m certainly not going to tell her I chartered the plane for her, that could give her some sort of ammunition to use against me, so I shoot her a wicked smile.
“I didn’t expect you would be up for joining the mile-high club in such a cramped bathroom. The one on this plane is bigger. I already checked.” I wink and take a sip of my scotch.
She scoffs as she plops down in the other seat across from me. “Dream on, Hayes.”
The way Abigail’s hands are twisting in her lap as she nervously looks around the plane like someone is going to jump out at her any moment tells me she’s nervous as hell about flying. The anxiety coming off her in waves reminds me of why I agreed to do this in the first place. Her eyes hold the same expression they did when I saw her talking to her mother at the cabin. She doesn’t want to be here, and she certainly doesn’t want to be going to this wedding.
The flight attendant makes her way over and offers Abigail a glass of wine before preflight. When the attendant rattles off the selections on board, Abigail gives me a small smile and orders a glass of her favorite champagne. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. She knows I made sure it was here for her.
After accepting the glass from the flight attendant, Abigail turns to me with a thoughtful expression. “I just want to say thank you again for coming with me and coming up with this little ruse to keep my mother and sister off my back. Ireallydidn’t like the idea of coming alone.”
I smile at her again. “You should never have to come alone, not when I’m here to help.”
Catching on to the direction my mind has wandered to, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head at me. “You can turn it off, Hayes. No amount of flirting is going to make you a member of the mile-high club.”
I let out a chuckle. This is our normal. Me making inappropriate comments and her giving me shit. The familiarity is having the desired effect on Abigail, her spine isn’t as stiff and the anxiety in her eyes is all but gone. Until the plane begins to taxi down the runway. Her jaw clenches as the hand that isn’t holding her champagne clutches her seat.
“Hey, I have a question,” I begin. Though her eyes are pointed in my direction, she isn’t really seeing me, already lost to her anxiety during the takeoff. “Let’s talk PDA. We should really sell this whole relationship thing. Tongue or no tongue in front of your family?”
Her eyes laser in on me.Ah, there you are. “What? Who says we have to kiss at all in front of them?”
“It needs to be convincing, doesn’t it? How do you feel about the occasional ass grab? Nothing gratuitous or anything, but everyone can see you have an amazing ass. I think it would be weird if I didn’t help myself to the occasional handful.”
The plane is picking up speed, but Abigail isn’t paying it any attention, too busy glaring at me to notice.
“You most certainly will not be grabbing my ass, Hayes.” Her sweet Southern accent is getting thicker as she continues. “I don’t know how many girlfriends you’ve had in the past, but the day I let you grab my ass in public or try to shove your tongue down my throat in a roomful of people is the day you buy a parka to wear in hell because that is exactly where you’ll be going, and it will be frozen.”
She is stunning. What began as a way to take her mind off the takeoff is quickly backfiring on me. I lean back in my seat, throwing my ankle over my knee, discreetly adjusting my hardening length. Up until now, the joke about joining the mile-high club was just that, a joke. But goddamn, at this moment, I wish she would flip up the tight knee-length skirt she’s wearing and come sit on my lap. Somehow the dressing down she loves to give me has become my biggest turn-on. I certainly didn’t see that one coming a few months ago.
Abigail huffs out a breath as she looks out the window and sees that we’re gliding through the clouds. Her narrowed gaze turns to me. “You did it again.”
Confused for a moment and trying not to make the tightening in my pants too obvious, I look at her with drawn eyebrows. “Did what?”
“Got my mind off flying by pissing me off.” She laughs and shakes her head. “You realize how fucked up we are, right?”
I give her a wide smile. “I wouldn’t say fucked up. I would say perfectly suited. I say things completely inappropriate, and you get to give me a ration of shit, taking your mind off whatever has you tangled in knots. I call that a win-win.”
“I don’t see how you benefit from that.”
My reward is getting to see the fire in her eyes but telling her that would probably be too much for her to hear at the moment. She’s comfortable living in denial, at least where the idea that we could be more than verbal sparring partners is concerned. “I get knocked down a few pegs. I’ve been told my ego can use the occasional deflating by a certain redhead on more than one occasion.” I tip my glass to her before taking a sip.
Abigail laughs. “She sounds like she knows what she’s talking about.” Taking another sip of her drink, she relaxes farther back into her seat.
“So, about the ass grabbing. Hard no?”
Her tinkling laughter flows through the cabin. “Shut up, Hayes.”
Abigail
That wasn’t the worst flight I’ve ever been on. Having Jackson distract me with his ridiculous commentary is definitely helpful. I love and hate the fact that he’s so in tune with my moods. Fighting the intense attraction was a lot easier when I thought he was nothing more than a callous party boy who thought of no one but himself. He’s proving me wrong at every turn and I kind of love it. But hate it at the same time.Ugh. Going into this farce of a relationship would be a hell of a lot easier if I didn’t have these conflicting thoughts about him.
When we make it to Charleston, and I step out of the plane for the first time, I’m reminded of why I love my hometown. While it’s about forty degrees during February in Philadelphia, Charleston is a beautiful seventy-three degrees today, the air already smelling like early spring. If only the weather could make up for the residents that reside here, namely my mother and Davis.
