Having hope was her weakness. If Sadie Mullins hadn’t started to believe in love again, hadn’t let herself fall for him, she wouldn’t be feeling this way. Wouldn’t have her heart breaking. Wouldn’t regret meeting West Montgomery. The cocky bastard should have left her alone, let her forget about him. Let her move on with her life. Of course, he didn’t. That could have been the end of it. Of course, it wasn’t. Damn hope.
*This is Book 2 in the Water’s Edge Series and is a continuation of Sadie and West’s story that began in Wet. This is not a standalone.*
When the plane began its taxi to the runway, he gripped the armrests tightly, dislodging my elbow in the process.
“Sorry,” he gritted out.
I raised my eyebrows.
He grimaced. “Scared shitless is a better description.”
I bit my lip so I wouldn’t smile, but he saw the small motion.
“Most plane crashes occur within two minutes of takeoff. Once we’re in the air, I’ll be fine. It’s just those first two minutes.”
He braced himself with his feet, his thighs flexing under his gray pants.
“Talk to me. Distract me.” His eyes pleaded with me, belaying the gruff tone to his voice.
“. Okay.” I paused, my mind blank. “Are you single?”
What the fuck? Where had that question come from?
I clenched my jaw, turned away for a second. “Yup. Very.”
His eyes narrowed as he observed me. “What’d he do?”
“What’d the idiot do?”
“He was an idiot.” I shrugged.
Shaking my head, I turned the question back on him. “What about you? Why are you single?”
“I travel a lot for work. It makes it hard.”
That word. I couldn’t help my eyes from flicking down to his crotch.
The muscles in his arm relaxed as he laughed at me. “Yeah, it can be a problem sometimes. But I handle it.”
I coughed. Did he mean what I thought?
The laugh lines around his eyes deepened as he struggled to keep a straight face.
“Is it a problem that comes up a lot?” What the fuck was wrong with me this morning? I blamed my lack of filter on my way-too-early-in-the-morning drink.
He kept his voice serious. “Just morning and night.”
I snickered and he relaxed the rest of the way, his knuckles no longer white against the armrest.
“I’ve mastered some coping techniques. I could teach you. You may need them in the future, if you run into any more idiots.”
I blinked. Damn, he was bold. I looked down where his hand rested between us, unconsciously checking out his fingers. Long and lean. Surprisingly lean for such a broad guy.
“I’ve had a lot of experience—”
“I’m sure you have,” I interrupted.
“… and it’d be a shame for all that knowledge to just go to waste,” he finished.
I’m a Southern girl who firmly believes mornings should be outlawed. My perfect day would include lounging on a hammock with a good book, carbohydrates, and the people around me randomly breaking into choreographed song and dance routines. It would not include bacon, cleaning, or anything requiring patience.
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