Zahara moaned, and the sound brought her closer to consciousness. Her lashes fluttered as a deep, unfulfilled desire washed every inch of her body. She squeezed her eyes tight, rolled her head on the seat, and angled her body the opposite direction, seeking comfort.
Her lashes fluttered, and Zahara focused for an instant. Thomas had closed his book.
She licked her lips and cocked her head both directions, cracking her neck. A sliver of relief slid in, and her gaze drifted up and around the cabin. She glanced at Thomas to see if he was sleeping—but found herself looking at Chase instead, his beautiful hazel eyes staring back at her only inches away. Zahara’s mind slid sideways. Past and present blended until she wasn’t sure if she was asleep and dreaming or awake and hallucinating.
His expression was sweet and soft, filled with affection and longing. It felt good on her, like a warm blanket it the cold. She let the moment float and expand, soaking in the sensation. The man fed her soul the way food fed her body.
“Hey.”
Chase’s murmur snapped her fragile fantasy.
Zahara closed her eyes and groaned. She straightened in her seat, facing front and putting space between them. “Layton, you sonofabitch.”
“Thomas was thrilled.”
“That’s just manipulative.”
“Would you say the same thing to Wes or Keaton if they’d won Thomas’s seat?”
“If they were doing it to corner me,” she said, crossing her arms. “Yeah, I would.”
“I brought you a pillow. We don’t have to talk. I’m happy just sitting with you.”
Zahara cracked her lids to find him holding up one of the pillows from first class. She almost drooled over it and let go of her stubborn resentment long enough to take it. She folded the cheap thing, pressed it against the wall, and, once again, fought for comfort.
She finally swore and gave up on sleep. “Screw it.” She handed him the pillow. “Thanks anyway.”
“Are you okay?”
The sincere concern in his voice pulled at her heart. “I’m—”
“Don’t tell me you’re fine. I know you’re not.”
“I’m tired, Chase.”
“That’s my point.”
“I’ve been working my ass off. I have a right to be tired.”
“You worked your ass off in Chilled too, and you were never like this. Have you seen a doctor?”
He’d hooked into a fear she hadn’t let herself address. He’d also seen something in her that she’d been able to hide from Wes and Keaton. “I haven?
?t exactly had time. Besides, it’s nothing. Once I get some decent sleep, I’ll be fine.”
He didn’t respond, and Zahara was tempted to let the silence linger as long as possible. But now Zahara was awake, and there would be no sleep with Chase sitting beside her.
She loosened her seat belt and angled toward him, then stole the pillow back and stuffed it between the seat arm and her spine. “All right, Layton, let’s get this over with. What do you need to say to me?”
His brows lifted. “Really?”
“Start talking before I change my mind.”
He took a second to glance around the cabin. Mark and Pete, actors playing the main bad guys in the movie, were in the seats to their left, their eyes closed. Chase unbuckled and stood, glancing over the top of the seats in front of them to check on a couple of production assistants. Through the slat between the seats, Zahara could see one girl had earphones in. Chase must have decided the other wouldn’t overhear, because he sat back down and turned toward her.
“A few days after you left for Boston, I got a frantic call from Lila.” He spoke in a low voice she could barely hear over the engine noise. “She said she and Brendon had a really bad argument and he’d threatened her. The neighbors had called the cops, and having them show up at her door really rattled her. I went over to calm her down. We were sitting in her backyard, and some fucking paparazzi must have been monitoring the police scanner, because they got a picture of us from the hills.”
“Told you so” lay on the tip of her tongue. “The one of you with your arms around her.”