Open Fire, page 7
“I’m going to play Santa.”
“Yeah? You got a red suit lying around somewhere?”
She giggles again, the excitement she feels almost palpable. “No suit, but I don’t need one. I want to get all these presents under the tree and maybe take a bite out of the cookies so my niece experiences the magic of Christmas.”
“Really?” I deadpan. “That’s the reason you’re going to eat the cookies? For your niece? I’ve seen how much sugar you inhaled today.”
“You hush. I eat when I’m bored.” She smacks me lightly on the arm. “The fact that sugar cookies with icing are my favorite just makes it that much better.”
We sit in silence, as I try to take in the feeling of her next to me, committing it to memory so I can think back on it often. My hand is itching to hold hers, but I keep coming back to the same conclusion—we’re travel buddies forced together by circumstances beyond our control during the holiday season. I don’t know for sure that what we feel is real. Yes, I’m wildly attracted to Sloan, but I can’t be sure the intensity of my feelings is normal under these circumstances. I’m almost frozen, trying to figure out how to handle this situation and I’m quickly running out of time.
“I’m sorry you’re going to miss midnight mass,” she says quietly. “I know it’s important to you.”
“It’s only important because of my mom. I think she understands.” I flash her a smile, continuing to feel conflicted. “I’m sorry you missed baking Christmas cookies. Even if you don’t actually do the cooking.”
She shoves me gently. “I’m a great beater licker.”
My eyebrows raise at the thought of her swirling her tongue around the beaters, licking the batter off like she’d lick it off my—
Sloan clears her throat. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Sorry,” I say sheepishly. “You did that on purpose and you know it.”
“Maybe.”
My mouth drops open at her admission but before I can respond, the gate agent props the jetway door open and a pit opens in the bottom of my stomach. Our time together is almost over. I don’t like it.
“Attention passengers,” the intercom blares. “Flight 435 with service to Chicago will now begin boarding. If you are a Star Plus member, member of the armed services, parent with small children or need assistance, you may now begin boarding.”
My heart begins to race, the implications of the first announcement all too loud in my brain.
“I had a lot of fun with you today, Becker.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Enough fun that you’ve changed your ways and have become a Florida Glaze fan?” I tease.
She sucks in a breath and shakes her head. “Almost. Sooooo close.”
I laugh, a deep chuckle at her candor. Then I face my fear and do what I’ve been wanting to do all day. I reach over and grab her hand, lacing her fingers through mine. Her hand is small and cold compared to mine, and I wish I could find a way to warm it up for her. Instead, I give her the truth.
“I had a lot of fun, too.”
We stare at each other, smiling as the words I have been dreading are blared over the intercom.
“Attention passengers. Flight 435 with service to Chicago will now begin boarding first class members. If you are a first-class member, you may now begin boarding.”
“That’s me,” I murmur and push to standing. “I guess I’ll see you in Chicago. Meet you in baggage claim?”
She gives me a watery smile. “Sounds like a plan.”
Before I can think about it, I lean down and drop a kiss to the top of her head. My heart aches as I walk away. It doesn’t feel right to leave her behind. Like I’m missing a limb or something. I refuse to look back, knowing if I do, I may never end up on this plane and I have to. Not just for my pops but because I still have to be in Chicago for my job.
I quickly wave the ticket on my phone under the scanner and walk down the jet way, murmuring “Merry Christmas,” in response to whatever the gate agent just said. I don’t even know. All I can hear is a rush in my ears as my heart aches for what I’ve left behind.
Trying to stay focused on my destination, I find my assigned seat and slide my duffel bag into the overhead bin. I nod in greeting at my seat mate, but pop my earbuds in to create a barrier between us. He probably doesn’t even want to talk with it being so late and after such a long day, but I’m not taking my chances. All I can do right now is focus on breathing and not running back down that jetway and back to the woman I’ve left behind.
Logically, I know the chair is plush, but I can’t get comfortable. None of this feels right. Even with the Santa hats on the flight attendants and ugly Christmas sweaters passengers are wearing, this doesn’t feel magical at all.
For the first time all day, I’d rather be in the airport than on the plane. And it all has to do with the woman I met in the terminal.
Chapter Fourteen
Sloan
I watch Becker walk away. Away from me. Away from the best day I’ve had in a long time.
It’s not like Becker owes me anything. It’s not like we even became friends. We were just two people stranded at an airport who accidentally became travel buddies.
And yet, there’s an overwhelming sadness I wasn’t expecting to feel at his departure.
“Flight 435 with service to Chicago is now boarding rows twenty-five through thirty-two. Again, flight 435 is now boarding rows twenty-five through thirty-two.”
I stay seated, waiting for them to call row nineteen. As a nervous flyer, I always try to get the middle of the plane. Over the wing seems like it would be the most solid part of the plane. They can’t have the wings falling off, right?
I fidget with my fingers, trying to hold onto the warmth of Becker’s hand in mine. He waited all day to hold my hand, but it was worth it.
And then he left. And it feels like he took my arm with him, or my heart or something. Something. Nothing feels right without him here with me. It’s almost painful having him gone.
I must just be overtired from the day. Surely these feelings are a combination of hormones and exhaustion.
“Flight 435 is now boarding rows eighteen through twenty-five. Again, if you are assigned rows eighteen through twenty-five, you may now board flight 435 with service to Chicago.”
With a sigh, I stand and grab my bags. All of them. Including the gift bag I haven’t touched all day. My heart hurts again from the reminder of the little things he did all day. From carrying my bag to sharing his ear buds, to springing for fajitas. He was a true gentleman through and through.
Is. He is a true gentleman. He’s not dead.
Way to be dramatic, Sloan.
I shuffle behind everyone as we all load the plane like a bunch of cattle.
We stall briefly as I pass by first class, and I can’t help looking for Becker. He’s sitting in the aisle seat, his eyes closed, eyebrows slightly pinched together. Either he’s listening to music or just ignoring everyone. Either way it would be weird to call his name just so I can wave, so I keep going.
I finally get to row nineteen and have to glance up to make sure I’m in the right spot.
Yep. I’m here. It takes a second to get my suitcase in the overhead compartment, but I finally get it where it needs to be.
“Excuse me.” I point to my seat politely, a smile plastered to my face. “I’m actually the window seat.”
An older woman with grey hair is obviously unhappy I’m booting her out of the chair she claimed, but I paid the extra ten dollars to sit there so I can rest my head against the wall and maybe sleep.
We shuffle around as quickly as we can in the tight space, and I try to make quick work of getting my things under the chair. Of course, it doesn’t all fit.
“Great. Now I have to get it up in the overhead bin.”
I know the woman heard me and is ignoring me, but we’re going to have to figure it out. A large man has just sat in the aisle seat and the idea of climbing over them both makes me want to barf. I don’t say anything, unsure how to handle the situation. There are still more people shuffling past us anyway. Maybe if I wait for a minute, no one will notice.
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
I’ve been expecting the flight attendant to tell me to clear the area at my feet, but the voice sounds more familiar than that.
Whipping my head up, I find Becker standing in the aisle. He’s not talking to me, though.
“Can I help you?” the woman next to me responds.
The glint in his eye tells me he’s up to something, but he still hasn’t so much as glanced at me. “Have you ever sat in first class before?”
She laughs, but it’s not flirty or even kind. More like she’s waiting for his punchline. “As you can see from being stuck in the middle seat, I can’t afford that.”
“You can today.”
I look at him quizzically. What is he up to?
She narrows her eyes at him and crosses her arms. “What do you mean?”
“I have this first-class ticket, and as I was getting settled, I realized it’s Christmas Eve and it would be a nice thing to share this with someone else.”
Her eyebrows raise in interest. “Is this for real?”
“It is.”
“It wouldn’t have anything to do with this young, pretty thing sitting next to me, would it? She isn’t my favorite person right now, what with not letting an old woman sit next to the window…”
I roll my eyes. She may have grey hair, but she’s hardly elderly.
“… but I’m also not going to offer her up to you on a platter.”
Becker considers her words for a moment. “Well, maybe you should ask the young lady what she thinks.”
The woman turns to me, her eyebrow cocked. I’m not sure if she’s making sure I’m comfortable with this or challenging me to stop her from taking advantage of Becker’s offer. Spite makes me want to cause her problems, but the giddiness of having another three hours with him wins out.
“It’s fine. He’s fine. I promise.”
With a quick nod, she grabs her purse from under the seat and pushes her way out into the aisle, barely waiting for the man next to her to get out of the way.
Snatching the ticket out of Becker’s hand, she hands him hers with a “Merry Christmas to you” before practically skipping up the aisle to her new seat.
Becker squeezes past the man who refuses to get up, and tries to not disturb the people in front of us as he uses the chairs for balance. He fails spectacularly, and I find myself more amused than I should.
Once he’s seated, he turns to me and smiles.
“Why did you do that?” I ask, wanting desperately to hear his ulterior motive had everything to do with me and not goodwill to all mankind.
He shrugs coyly. “I figured you’d need the space under my feet to get all your presents safely stowed away.”
I do actually, but I don’t make a move to shift yet. “That’s it? You’re worried about my presents?”
“And it was a little lonely up in first class without my travel buddy.”
I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. “That’s really sweet of you. And I have a confession of my own.”
“Do tell.” He leans in closer.
“We’ve been together for so long today, it felt really weird being on separate sides of the plane.”
“I felt the same way.” He reaches up and pushes a stray piece of hair out of my face before sitting back, leaving me hanging. “Too bad there wasn’t a seat available in first class. I would have upgraded you.” He begins shifting around on the seat. “These chairs are really small.”
“Welcome to the wonderful world of middle class, buddy.”
We move the presents around until everything fits nicely under both seats. Within minutes, we’ve pushed away from the gate and are taxiing to the runway.
I clench the arm rest next to the window, prepping my nerves for takeoff. Suddenly, Becker grabs my other hand and laces our fingers together. The feeling of the skin-on-skin contact makes me shiver.
“How’d you know take off is the worst part for me?”
“I didn’t. I just feel bad you missed the chance to sing Light Up Your World and hold hands with a stranger.”
“Ohgod. You aren’t going to start singing now are you?”
He opens his mouth to respond, but the guy next to him cuts him off. “Please don’t. It’s bad enough you let the smallest person on the row go to first class. I can’t take more torture.”
Becker looks at me, an expression of fake shock on his face. I press my face into his shoulder, muffling my giggle.
Before I know it, we’re in the air. And I never even noticed we took off.
Chapter Fifteen
Becker
The wheels touch down so gently, it doesn’t even jostle Sloan awake. Her head has been on my shoulder for the last hour while she’s snoozed quietly. I could have dozed off too, but I was too comfortable listening to her breathing.
The quiet and dark of the cabin have given me time to notice little things about her I hadn’t picked up on before. The way her silky hair doesn’t stay in place, a few stray strands coming loose no matter how many times she pulls it back. The way her lips move when she puffs out light breaths as she sleeps. The way her body twitches until she falls into a deep slumber. The way her hand never seems to warm up, no matter how long I hold it. Even the shape of her legs as she rests her feet on top of her backpack under the seat.
All things I lock away in my mind, determined not to forget a single thing about her. I don’t want to leave Sloan at the airport never to see her again. I’ve had the best time with her today. Or yesterday at this point. She’s made me laugh and made me think. She’s poked fun at me and laughed when I’ve poked fun at her. It’s been like having a best friend with me. A best friend that I’m wildly attracted to. The idea of never seeing her again is hard to imagine. For the last hour I’ve finally allowed myself to wonder, could there be more to this than just two strangers passing in the night?
My mind is made up. I need to see her again. It’s a given. I have to see if what we have is real, I just can’t figure out how to go about it. It’s after midnight on Christmas morning in a town we don’t live in with jam packed schedules filled with visiting people we don’t get to see often. It’s not really the time to put the focus on us, or what could maybe eventually be an us. And yet, I don’t want to miss this opportunity.
Every second the plane gets closer to our destination, the more I can feel my heart pounding. For someone who can banter with the best of them, my ability to put together words with Sloan sure has dried up.
What I need to do is find out how Sloan feels. I think we’re on the same page—she hasn’t dismissed any of my advances—but I’m running out of time to ask her.
The plane finally pulls up to the jetway and begins to power down. Our time is almost over.
“Sloan,” I say quietly and shake her leg gently with my hand. “Sloan, we’re here.”
“Hmm?” She barely moves, snuggling her head further into my shoulder. I know I should keep trying to wake her up but I just don’t want to.
And then the decision is made for me when the lights turn on with a loud ding and her head pops up.
Sloan squints and shakes her head. “Are we there already?”
“Yep.”
Passengers slowly begin to stand and stretch, everyone is exhausted and probably sore from such a long day of travelling.
She yawns and rubs some sleep out of her eyes. “What time is it?”
“A little after one, Chicago time.”
Sloan groans, the sound registering in my dick, despite my attempts at ignoring it. She stretches her neck side-to-side. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a bus.”
“Travel will do that to you.”
I make no move to get up, content to sit next to her for a few more minutes. Besides, it’s not like there’s anywhere to go. The line to disembark is at a standstill so if I tried to get up, I’d only ram my head into the low ceiling.
“Thanks for letting me sleep on your shoulder,” she says quietly. “I didn’t drool on you, did I?”
“No.” And then I do what comes instinctively. I press a kiss to her forehead.
I’m not sure why I do it, it just seems natural. From the way she gives me a sleepy smile, she’s not mad about it. That’s good. I just have to figure out how to ask her out again in the middle of the holiday madness and see where it goes from here.
The line finally starts moving and we’re able to finagle all her packages out from under the seat and into the bag without any more tears. I grab my duffle and let her go in front of me like the gentleman I seem to have become with this woman.
“Goodbye. Thank you,” the flight attendant says when we reach the front. She has a little too much pep for it being after midnight.
“Merry Christmas,” I respond, and she looks down at her watch.
“Oh yeah. I guess it is Christmas now.”
The flight attendant sighs deeply and I don’t envy her for her job. Not that mine is much better around the holidays. I know what it’s like to have to miss spending time with your family on the important days of the year. Hell, the one time I was given the opportunity, I ended up stranded at the airport for fourteen hours. Not that I’m complaining anymore. I’ve met the most fascinating woman in that time.
I glance up at Sloan who turns to look at me over her shoulder, making sure I’m still behind her. That look hits me right in the feels and makes the entire debacle of today worth it.
As we exit the jetway, I quickly grab her hand and lace our fingers together. I can’t stop myself. I feel like I’m running out of time, but for what, I’m still not sure. I only know I need to hold her hand for as long as she’ll let me.
For just a split second, she looks startled before her features melt into a warm smile.
We walk hand-in-hand, like a real couple in public, all the way to baggage claim.
