Page 5 of Feel It in the Air

I look up over Marlo’s head, through the terminal, catching a glimpse of the skies through the large window for gate B44. Lightning cuts through the darkness, the elongated jagged bolt accompanying another clang of thunder and the distinct sound of rain picking up.

Yup, it’s gonna be awhile…

Turning my attention back to Marlo, I smile, suddenly not as annoyed at the delay.

“Another forty-five minutes. At least,” she mutters, clicking her phone off and sliding it back onto the bar. I don’t even bother looking at mine. She’s where I want to keep my focus. “You?”

I shrug, finishing off my beer. “Long enough for another, I’m sure.”

“Make you a deal,” she says, leaning in. Her green eyes sparkle mischievously, one corner of her mouth upturned in a way that make my dick twitch and all the manners my mama taught me want to take a back seat. I hold it together though. At least long enough to hear her proposition. “Whoever has the longer delay buys the next round.”

Oh fuck, I like this woman. A lot.

“Deal.”

Not that I’m letting her buy. Regardless of what the results are.

Picking up my phone, I tilt it toward me, just enough so she can’t see my screen. Tapping it to life, I chuckle as I read the text on the screen. Ninety more minutes.

“Looks like this one’s on me.” I turn my phone to show her, more than happy for an excuse to keep her here. And to have won fair and square.

We flag down the bartender, ordering another round of what is already in front of us, adding in some appetizers as well. I let her choose, partially because I’m so hungry I’ll eat just about anything at this point, but also because I’m curious as to what she goes with. Two more beers, plus an order of nachos, potstickers, and smothered fries later, I’m pretty sure Marlo is an angel sent straight from heaven.

“All we’ve done is talk about me,” Marlo says as the bartender slides fresh pints in front of us. “Tell me about you.”

“What if I like talking about you?”

“Ha. That portion of the program is over. Your turn. And that accent tells me that New York isn’t home for you either. Georgia, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You’re not.”

“So tell me, what brings you to New York?” She turns my own question on me, licking her lips in a way that makes me want to steal a kiss in the worst way.

But two can play this game.

“Family business. And by that, I mean literally the family business.”

“Touché.”

Marlo raises her glass in mock salute, admitting she’s been bested. I laugh, leaning back in my chair, loving the ease of our conversation. I’ve known this woman all of forty-five minutes, but it feels like forever. In the best way. Somehow our get-to-know-you conversation feels like old friends catching up.

“What’s the family business? If you don’t mind my asking.”

I inhale deeply, trying to figure out exactly how to answer that. I could tell her who I am. If she worked for Sulonen, then she knows Hayes. What she thinks of Hayes might be a very different story though. We work hard to have a good reputation in the corporate world, but business is business, and at times that can leave a sour taste in people's mouths. On top of that, I’m not sure she really wants to hear me drone on about the company.

I mean, what woman wants to hear all about the privately held Fortune 500 company, still family run out of our rural Georgia town, that covers a wide range of industries including guns and ammo, a paper mill, agriculture, a brewery, personal safety, and a bait and tackle shop?

A woman who is getting her law degree on top of her MBA, that’s who…

“A little of everything.” I shrug, trying to be generic. “We’re one of those companies that dabbles in a number of things. We date back to the Civil War and have accumulated some interests over the years, shall we say. Still one hundred percent family run—at least from the executive perspective. Dad is president and CEO, then my siblings and I oversee the different divisions.”

“Now who’s the big deal,” she teases, shoving me playfully.

My skin heats up, tingling from her touch. And right about now, I’d do pretty much anything to make her do it again.

“Still you. You spent two years in Amsterdam. I’m chief chaos coordinator for my siblings.”

“How many of you are there?”