Harper
“We’re not going to die,” Marek reassures me, buckling himself back in his seat with confidence. Then he does something my worry-addled brain doesn’t expect. He reaches for my hand, prying my fingers off the armrest one by one before turning my palm right side up and settling my hand in his. He intertwines his fingers with mine.
“It’s just some turbulence. The weather in the Midwest this time of year is unpredictable. We’ll make it safely, I pro—”
But he doesn’t get to finish his proclamation when the plane plummets and drops so dramatically that an ear-piercing scream climbs through my throat and out my mouth. “Oh, my God!”
I am not normally a fearful flyer. Although, admittedly, I don’t fly very often. The last flight I took was during my sophomore year in college when Jade and I flew down to Nashville for a national tournament our school won a spot in. We ended up losing in the first round, but it was the best weekend trip I’d ever taken. Nashville was my jam with its music scene and amazingly cool vibe. We had a blast and still talk about it to this day.
I have a feeling I’ll be talking about this memory for years to come, too, except for very different reasons.
My body shakes and tightens from head to toe, my stomach clenching at the prospect that, with one big gust of turbulence, we could fall out of the sky and meet our fate. I can barely speak. My mouth is arid, and my nerves frayed. I finally open my eyes enough to peer through my lashes to see Marek twisted toward me, his compassionate face hovering over me.
With a swift motion, likely reminiscent from his basketball playing days, he lifts the armrest between us and swings an arm around my back, pulling me into the crook of his arm. I allow myself to go because my fear knows no awkwardness. I nestle into the intoxicating warmth of his scent and body heat. He smells of fine wine and smoky sweet tobacco. Spicy and powerful.
“It’s okay, Harper,” he murmurs into my ear, his breath fanning through the strands of hair that cascade over the sides of my face. He is so close that if I shifted and pulled my chin up, our lips would touch.
“You’re safe. I promise you. This is normal.”
Jerking my head back, I give him anare you freakin’ nuts?look. “This is normal?”
He snickers softly, his eyes flickering with amusement. “Okay, not quite this bad. But I’ve never had a smooth descent into O’Hare. One time, we were flying in from a game in Tampa and it was supposed to be a direct flight. Midway through Indiana in the middle of the night, we lost altitude due to a crazy storm. If you’ve never seen a seven-foot basketball player scream like a little girl, calling out for his mommy, you’ve not truly lived.”
I know what Marek’s doing. He’s trying to get my mind off my fear of crashing. And it’s working.
Laughter bubbles up inside my chest and slips past my lips. “Okay, that would be a funny sight to see. Was it you?”
He elbows me in the ribs as I giggle and squirm in his hold. He lets me go without a fight, but I already miss the safety of his embrace.
“No, it wasn’t me. I’m not quite that tall. But let’s just say once we landed and we were all safe sound, that player would never again be free of the nickname he was given by his teammates. It’s stuck with him even to this day.”
I quirk my eyebrow. “What was it? Who is it?”
Marek pinches his finger and thumb together, making a zipper sign across his lips. “Nope. I’m sworn to secrecy. What happens in a plane, stays in the plane.”
My thoughts immediately turn dirty, remembering the way it felt to be wrapped in Marek’s embrace. The way his deep voice in my ear soothed my anxiety, but also stoked a fire low in my belly that’s been simmering the past week.
He gives me a wink and then I’m jostled forward from the jolt of the wheels touching down onto the tarmac. Marek distracted me so well, and I was so wrapped up in his story, I completely forgot all about turbulence and the bumpy landing.
I snap my head to look at him in wonder and in awe, astounded by the miracle he just pulled off. “If you ever get tired of your current role, you’d be good as one of that voiceover narrators. The ones who help you meditate and get you in the zone and out of your head. You’re very good at that.” I gesture toward him with a flick of my hand. “Whateverthatwas.”
The sound of his laughter calms me even more as we taxi to the gate. Something seems to have loosened in him. Like one of the many layers of protection he’s worn has been peeled off and removed. As if he’s beginning to show me a bit more of who the real Marek is behind the suit.
“I won’t quit my day job this yet,” he muses. “But always happy to help a lady in distress.”
If it were any other man who said this to me, his word choice might make me bristle. I pride myself on not having to rely on anyone else for comfort or support. Unless it’s Jade or my sister, of course. Otherwise, I’ve never needed a man to rescue me.
But this is Marek. And, truthfully, he did have my back on this one.
“I’d say distress is a bit of an overstatement,” I argue, bending over my lap to pack up my things on the floor by my feet, zipping my bag closed. Out of my peripheral, I notice he bends forward as well. Our eyes lock as we gaze at each other.
Whatever it is that passes between us is like an injection of adrenaline. It shoots straight to my heart.
“You’re right, of course. I’d never suggest you couldn’t handle yourself.” The corner of his mouth lifts into a sexy smirk and he winks. “I just happened to be in the right seat at the right time.”
I sit back again, hefting the bag to my lap as we wait for the cabin door to open. Was that Marek flirting with me? Or am I just imagining it because I liked how it felt in his arms?
Either way, nothing can come of it, even with the offer of the gala date still out there on the table. Which I haven’t agreed to accept yet.