AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I keep my eyes on the runway as the plane makes its final descent, palm trees, and crystalline waters flashing by until we land with a jerk, bumping and skidding toward a small airport with only half a dozen planes outside.
The moment the flight attendants open the doors, a wall of humidity and the scent of the nearby ocean hit me like a wall. Old Bat takes her time gathering up her free copy of Air Times Magazine, three unopened bags of peanuts, and a fuzzy purple neck pillow before finally rising and allowing me to escape the suddenly unbearable, claustrophobic plane onto the hot tarmac.
It's nearly noon, and the sun is high, so by the time I get my bags from the luggage claim and drag them out to the line of hotel shuttles and taxis, my t-shirt is clinging to my back, and I'm panting. A quick glance at myself in my phone's camera is enough to confirm I look exactly as shitty as I knew I would after spending fifteen hours getting on and off planes, sitting next to overly chatty old ladies, and eating fistfuls of flavorless snacks in between bouts of uncomfortable sleep.
In other words,reallyshitty.
As far as I know, no one in our family or Reuben's will be arriving until later this afternoon. With any luck, I should be able to escape to my hotel room unnoticed and clean up before dinner tonight, the first event on Evie's schedule.
I could collapse in relief when I finally find a white shuttle van adorned with the logo of the Regency Sun Resort & Spa, the driver leaning against it with a cigarette between his fingers. He throws it away as I approach, giving my body an appreciative look as he welcomes me to Bora Bora in heavily accented English. "You are not the bride, no?" He asks as I climb up into the van.
He's objectively attractive, maybe a year or two older than me, with floppy brown hair and golden brown skin, the perfect vacation fling if you're into that sort of thing. I'm positive I'm not the only pretty foreigner he's made eyes at, nor will I be the last. I almost wish I could. Having someone to take my mind off Harvard and the family stress would be great, but unfortunately, I've learned the hard way that rationalizing someone's attractiveness isn't actually going to make me attracted to them.
"No, I'm not the bride," I assure him quietly, settling back in my seat and brushing the sticky strands of hair out of my face. The van is thankfully air-conditioned, but the flirty driver makes no move to shut the door.
"We have another guest arriving." He tells me over his shoulder just as another exhausted-looking traveler approaches, dragging a suitcase, a garment bag slung over his arm and dressed in wrinkled clothes.
I still, my chest suddenly tight.
The newcomer must be in his mid-forties, but he's in better shape than the driver, who is half his age. Broad-shouldered and tall, he towers over the travelers walking past him on the sidewalk, checking the logo on the van from behind thick-framed black glasses. He looks like a silver-haired Clark Kent, and I realize with a jolt I've been pressing my thighs together, heat pooling low in my belly.
Um.What?
"Regency Sun?" Confirms the driver, glancing over his shoulder at me with a sly little smile like we're in on a secret.
"That's right." The newcomer says, his voice low and weary. "How far are we from the resort?"
"Oh, about fifteen minutes, very easy drive." The driver informs him, taking the man's luggage around to the back.
I watch, my lungs burning with a breath I can't quite manage to exhale, as the stranger casts a last, long look over his shoulder like he's looking for someone. Shaking his head slightly, he turns and moves to the van's open door, making to step up. When our eyes meet, however, he stops dead, staring at me.
There might be some staring back. Because, holy shit, he's hot. Really hot. Even sticky with sweat and clearly just as ruffled from sitting on an airplane as I am- my cheeks warm. Oh god, I look so bad right now…. but he's still looking at me, not my body, but straight into my eyes.
A metallic thud makes both of us jump, and the stranger's eyes finally move from mine, looking at the van floor, where his phone has fallen from his hand and is lying face down on the metal frame around the door. Cursing quietly, he picks it up, wincing at the spiderweb of cracks running through the screen.
Oops.
"Sir?" The driver is back, and the newcomer shoves it in his pocket and steps up inside. This van has four rows of seats, but he takes the one across the aisle from me.
It feels like my whole body is suddenly attached to a live wire. My entire consciousness focused on the stranger sitting just a few feet away from me and my heart suddenly hammering frantically against my ribcage. This hasneverhappened to me. Ever. I have several ex-boyfriends who could attest to my complete disinterest in them.
I always rolled my eyes at the girls in school who became gooey, fluttery messes when the right boy smiled their way, but I'm feeling pretty gooey and fluttery right now.
"Where are you coming from?"
I look around so quickly that a muscle in my neck spasms painfully. "Oh!" I rub it, wincing. His voice isgreat, low, and just a little gravely. "Sorry, I've clearly been sitting on a plane for too long. Um, I'm here from Chicago, but I flew through Tahiti. You?"
He grins sheepishly, like I've caught him in the act. "Washington D.C. But I, ah, was on the same connecting flight. I noticed you."
Oh. Okay, wow.I hope he didn't hear me stonewall Old Bat when she asked me the same question he just did.
The front door slams and the driver climbs in, turning to give me a crooked smile that is obviously designed to be charming. "We'll be at the resort in no time." He tells me smoothly, completely ignoring his other passenger. "Please let me know if you need anything to improve your stay Miss…" He trails off, waiting for me to give my name.
I grimace, but before I can make something up, my stranger does. "Mrs." He informs the driver nonchalantly, so casually he might have been reporting the weather conditions. Without hesitation, he reaches across the aisle to weave his fingers through my hand, where it's resting in my lap. "We're here for our anniversary."
The driver's lips pinch like he doesn't quite believe him, but thankfully turns back around and turns his attention to the road, fiddling with the radio as we pull into airport traffic.
My stranger doesn't release my hand, though. "Should I hold your hand a while longer, just to be safe?" He asks under his breath, the corner of his lips lifting in a mischievous smile. There's something about him that screamsprofessionallike he spends his days in a suit and knows how to create one hell of a spreadsheet, but when he smiles….
