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“I think I will …”
“Don’t take too long, or I might think you’re talking to her.”
Even though we hadn’t reached cruising altitude and there was a bit of turbulence as we made our way through the clouds, I got up from my seat, flipped him off, and headed toward the back.
I could have waited until Lily came into the main cabin to bring us refills. But there was something about my conversation with Dominick that had me walking toward the back of the plane.
Was he right?
Should I have a conversation with her about why she had taken off without leaving me a way to get in touch with her?
Or was that topic a waste of our time?
She was sitting in the back, along the side, the position giving her a view of the whole main cabin, holding her phone not far from her face. She was so focused on the screen that she didn’t see or hear me approach, but the moment my hand hit the counter, her eyes lifted. As soon as she caught sight of me, her chest rose much faster than a normal breath.
“What can I get you?” She went to stand and realized she was still strapped in.
“I can pour my own drink.”
Since the Daltons had the same type of jet as us, I assumed they kept their booze in a similar location, and I opened the cabinets above the counter until I found the right one.
“But that’s what I’m here for.”
She was next to me, our arms aligned as we reached into the top cupboard at the same time. The outside of my triceps rubbed against hers. I didn’t know why, but the contact, the closeness, the fucking scent that was coming off her body—that tropical oasis I just wanted to bury myself in—it was all giving me a goddamn hard-on.
“I’m happy to give you whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?” My arm dropped, and I took a step to the side, allowing her to grab the bottle. “Don’t make that offer, Lily, when you don’t mean it.”
As she was unscrewing the top, she looked at me, the recognition of my reply slowly moving across her face. “I …” As her voice faded out, she glanced around the galley, as though my eyes had become too much for her, before her gaze eventually made its way back to mine. “I had no idea you were friends with the Daltons.”
“Why does that matter?”
“I just wanted you to know that I didn’t take this job to mysteriously put myself in your path or anything like that. I’m not that kind of woman.”
“And if you had known we were friends”—I crossed my arms—“would that have made a difference?”
“Maybe.”
My head shook as I processed her question. “You mean to tell me you’d have given up a job on the off chance you might see me? Or the opposite?”
She continued to hold the top of the bottle, which should have been opened by now, telling me she was no longer unscrewing it. “I just meant that if I had known, maybe I would have asked them for your number. You know, so I could have told you myself.”
“No. I don’t know.” I leaned against the back wall. “You left my hotel room without giving me your number. You moved to LA, where you knew I lived. Knowing my relationship to the Daltons is insignificant.” I wanted her to hurry so I could slam that scotch into my throat. “What would you have told me, Lily? Because I can’t see how an explanation of your employment would have even mattered.”
“I just …” Her voice got quieter. Smaller even. “I don’t know …”
“If you’d wanted to reach out, you could have. You knew my first and last name, and there’s this thing called Google. With all the information that’s been written about me, it would have taken no more than a few seconds before you had my email, office line, and all my social media accounts.”
She flinched, the hurt registering in her eyes before she said, “You’re upset with me.”
Upset was an emotion for the weak.
I was fucking angry.
“Pissed off is a better way to put it.” Shit, I wanted to tell her I didn’t care, but that would be a lie. “And mad—mad as hell that you didn’t want me.”
She set the bottle down. “Brady, you need to understand that I didn’t look you up on purpose.”
