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“Oh, and Zoey?”
“Hmm?”
“Sam and I can handle this. Go enjoy your time off.”
“I need—”
“Daily updates, I know. Get gone.”
“The leather is sticking to the backs of my legs, look… I sound like I’m in a sex show with these noises.” I demonstrate my legs making slapping and suction noises against the chair, and Owen just glares at me, unimpressed. Max, however, stifles a laugh.
“I don’t know how you’re having sex, Zo, but those are not the right noises.” Owen huffs then stands to walk towards the front of our family’s private jet as we idle on the runway. It’s mainly used for business, and I’ve not been on it since I was sixteen, but I hate it now just as much as I hated it back then.
My leg jitters up and down just as Max passes me something from the minibar opposite him. “Here, down this. You’re making me nervous.”
I gratefully accept the tequila, unscrewing the cap. “These tiny bottles are funny, aren’t they? Look, they’re so small and pointless but serve a wonderful purpose,” I ramble, knocking back the fiery liquid before studying the now empty bottle. The truth is, after this morning’s drama with the shelter, I need a drink. I may have already hassled Lloyd on the drive here, and he’s told me he’s blocking me if I carry on. So, alcohol seems like a good plan.
“Yeah, like getting you to chill the fuck out,” Max laughs.
“Maximillian Laurence Bancroft, you better watch that potty mouth,” I gasp dramatically.
“Don’t full name me. And I do swear, just not around our parents if I can help it,” he says, smoothing down the front of his tie.
I tilt my head to the side, watching him. “Why did you wear a suit on a plane? It must be uncomfortable.”
“I’ve got other clothes to change into in the back. It was more of a formality. Owen and I always travel in suits, then change if it’s a long flight. It’s a habit now.”
Something hits me out of the blue, but it stings my chest. I don’t know my brother’s that well when it comes to work. I’ve actively distanced myself from that part of their lives because it’s connected to our parents, but in doing so, it feels like I’ve missed something. It’s silly to have a pang of regret over seeing my brothers in suits, but it still reminds me of the choices I’ve made in my life and how they affect our relationship.
“Heyyooooo!” A male voice gains my attention just as Owen comes back to our seats. I look up to see three guys come on board. Three very good looking guys. Max stands welcoming some of his friends, all bro hugs and laughter.
One of the guys is wearing a grey t-shirt that clings to his broad shoulders and tapers down to his dark jeans. I have to force a swallow because,damn. Then, as I look at his unruly beard and big brown eyes, realisation and an unwelcome memory hits me. I flirted with him at Jess and Liam’s wedding. I remember because he had a girlfriend at the time, and I still flirted like my life depended on it.Ohhh crap.
“Why did you invite him?” I hiss, leaning into Owen, who hasn’t got up yet to greet anyone.
He looks up at the group and frowns. “Harrison?” he questions. “Why wouldn’t we invite him?” He turns and assesses me for a second, seemingly judging my blank stare. “Are you telling me you don’t remember Harrison?”
I look at Harrison again. And my pulse increases as sweat forms at the nape of my neck. Idoknow him, but not from the wedding, from when we were kids. I can’t believe I haven’t put two and two together until right this second. Actually, I’ve seen him twice, at the wedding and the stag/hen party, in the last year and a half. Why didn’t he say something at the wedding? Preferably before I threw myself at him.
Oh, right, because you were drunker than a pirate, Zoey.
My face burns as I stare at Harrison Clarke. The boy I used to have the biggest crush on when I was a kid. He was nineteen the last time I saw him, and I was only twelve. His dark brown hair is slightly wavy and a little longer than the other guys. The ends have this cute flick to them, and the totally inappropriate thought that I’d like to run my hands through his hair or tug on it whilst it’s between my legs makes me feel a little lightheaded.What the fuck am I doing? I need to stop.But I’d challenge any other hot-blooded personnotto react the same. This isn’t the Harrison I remember from growing up, not that he wasn’t always gorgeous—he was—but he was gangly and geeky. Grown-up Harrison is… beautiful.
“Holy shit, Harrison!” I accidentally blurt, my eyes widening as I realise everyone is staring at me.
Max chuckles. “You remember Zoey, our baby sister?”
God, why did he have to say that? Younger fine, but baby…
Harrison passes Max and stands in front of me. I should stand too, but I’m ninety-nine per cent sure that my legs won’t work. “Zoey,” The way my name sounds on his lips is like a spell that transports me back to being that twelve-year-old girl with a crush. It’s low, gravelly, and far too sinful to be real.
“W-w-what… what are you doing here?”Good one, Zo. Smooth.
“We invited him, I told you,” Owen says, his brows lifting in confusion from the seat opposite.
“Oh… right… yeah, that’s awesome.”Have I ever described anything as awesome in my life before? Nope. Do I hate myself for it? Yep.
The two other guys who I now recognise from Max’s Instagram and a few other events in the past are Aaron and Nate. They step out from behind Harrison, who is practically taking up the entire aisle with his huge self.
