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Chase bites his lip as if trying not to laugh. ‘There was an incident.’
‘An incident?’ George perks up. ‘What kind of incident?’
‘The kind that you can’t mention in your gossip blog until after the wedding.’ Chase shakes his finger at his executive assistant.
George purses his lips, studying Chase’s hand. ‘Does this incident have anything to do with your arm?’
I’d been so careful to not look at Thomas that I failed to see the many red and painful-looking scratches up and down Chase’s arms. ‘Oh my God. What happened?’
Thomas turns around and my jaw drops. His tie is askew, his top button unbuttoned, and his hair looks like many a person drove their fingers through it.
I have never seen the perpetually pristine man so unkempt.
Thomas’s death stare lands on Chase. ‘Mike Hunt happened.’
5
ALICE
I’m going to die.
Whether from the general awkwardness of having to sit next to Thomas Moore or from a plane crash, I’m not sure. But I’m certain this is the end.
The plane sways and I grab the armrest. ‘Is it going to be this way the whole time?’
‘Doubtful.’
My teeth grind together, this time having nothing to do with the way the aircraft is turning mid-air like a stunt plane. ‘Thanks for the reassurance.’ I flick my gaze from the window to him, then back. ‘So kind of you.’
Sarcasm is not my usual. Silence and removing myself from the problem (aka retreat) are my normal tactics. But when I’m climbing to thirty thousand feet while the plane dips and swerves, I get snarky. Who knew?
The plane levels out and remains steady for the next ten minutes. I know it’s ten minutes because I’ve counted each and every six hundred seconds of it. With my eyes closed. I’m no longer excited or interested in seeing the world from a bird’s perspective out of my window. I no longer care about my roomy leather cushioned seat, my footrest bar or the complimentary blanket and slipper pouch the friendly steward handed me upon sitting down.
Instead, my focus is centered on the man who’d sniffed disdainfully when he reached his seat number then muttered something about commercial flights before hefting his roller bag into the overhead compartment and settling himself in his seat. The seat next to me.
If I hadn’t been so nervous stepping onto the plane from the little tunnel connecting it to the airport with Thomas Moore at my back, I might have had the forethought to come up with an excuse to change seats with someone. Like Chase, who’s sitting in coach. Apparently when the Moore brothers had to change their flight, there was only one first class seat available. A seat that Thomas, the best man, booked for himself, forcing his brother, the groom, to fly economy.
My stomach lurches once more, even as the plane remains stable.
Oh dear God, no.
My eyes pop open as heat creeps up my neck, sweat dotting my upper lip.
‘I, uh…’ I chance a glance at Thomas who looks as if he’s relaxing at a private members only club. ‘I think I need to use the bathroom.’
He doesn’t speak, just turns his square jaw in my direction, one eyebrow raised.
I hate that eyebrow.
My stomach yaws like a boat in a storm and I shift in my seat, poised to hurdle over his large frame if needed. ‘I don’t feel so well.’
Looking at me like one would a wild animal, Thomas taps the seat in front of him. ‘George.’
When there’s no response from his executive assistant seated in front of him, Thomas reaches around the aisle seat and shakes George’s shoulder.
‘Huh, what?’ George’s head bobs into sight over his seat back. ‘Are we there?’
‘No.’ Thomas’s hand remains outstretched in the aisle. ‘Dramamine.’
