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“Would they look into it? They just need to know the details, surely?” Nerves fluttered to life in my belly and made it more imperative that I say: “Thank you, even though you hate flying, for taking two flights in a twenty-four-hour period. But more importantly, thank you for not letting me do this alone.”
His fingers squeezed me then they retreated to his pocket where he pulled something from within its confines. “I could say the same back to you—one is a hella lonely number.”
I stared at the Airheads and laughed. “Where do you keep getting these from? Are you really Willy Wonka?”
His eyes twinkled as I accepted the candy. “Sugar for when the world is too bitter for your tongue.”
“The implication being that your kiss isn’t sweet enough…?”
He liked hearing that. His grin was a delicious mixture of dopey and sheepish and cute, making it far sweeter than anything candy could offer.
“Do you know you’re very romantic?” I rasped when he remained silent, toying with the end of the wrapper.
“Nah.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“The shit you say belongs in a Valentine’s Day card,” I argued, unsurewhyI was arguing when I was coming to rely on the little things he did and said. “In fact, I know you’re lying about not having a sideline with Hallmark.”
His lips twisted. “If I do, it’s only in the section that’s specifically for women called Star.”
I shoved his shoulder. “See?! There you go again with this romantic stuff. I’m not made for it, Conor!”
“Stop whining and take it,” he teased.
Though I huffed, I admitted, “I have a song for you. But you can’t listen to it with me here.”
“Why not?”
“You just can’t. And I’m going to go for a nap because I need to let my brain process all the crap that’s happened today.”
Pressing a gentle kiss to my mouth, he whispered, “Go and get some rest.”
“You can join me. When you’re done, I mean.”
His grin was like quicksilver. “I will.”
“We’ve still got seven hours left of the flight so there’s time to sleep.”
His grin died and he groaned, “Seven hours.”
“I’ll distract you,” I promised with a soft smile, shooting him a shy look as I hustled off his lap then got to my feet.
Grabbing my cell, I sent him the link I’d prepared earlier and then moved my ass so that I didn’t have to hear him listen to the sappy song.
He found it easy to say stuff to me that gave me Conor-heartburn. For me, it was much harder.
Even now, knowing he was listening to “God Only Knows” by The Beach Boys made me nervous, and I forced myself to use the bathroom then to clean my face and then to dawdle some more until I was certain the short song had finished playing.
Returning to the bedroom, I switched off the lights once I’d clambered into bed and immediately dragged the pillows around me so I was surrounded by their comforting embrace.
That was when I heard it.
Fuck.
I clenched my eyes closed as the song sounded in the background. Growing nearer and nearer. Until it was no longer outside the bedroom but in the doorway.
