Christmas in Coconut Creek (Dirty Delta, #1)(6)

“The opportunity pretty much fell into my lap, so to get my roommate off my ass I figured, why not? Two of my buddies are a state over in Salt Lake City, so I could see them more often. A change of scenery might be good for me. Like you so rudely pointed out, the AARP has started contacting me about my retirement savings.”

“And how does that look, out of curiosity?” I teased.

“Ah, there she is. It was never my body or a uniform you were after. The truth always comes out.”

I shrugged.

“What about you?” he asked. “Running away from an ex?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You’re on a plane, flying two thousand miles away from home just in time for Christmas. There’s gotta be something chasing your tail. So, what is it?”

“Not an ex,” I said. “I’m visiting a friend from college for a few weeks in Coconut Creek.”

“No family?”

“Oh, I do, yeah. My parents are more like my friends at this point. They were married for a while after I was born but now they’ve been divorced a long time and have these perfect second families. My closest half-sibling is only fourteen, so I figured I would do something different this Christmas. Trade the pine trees for palm trees.”

“It’s nice to do something for yourself every now and then.”

“I agree.”

I stacked my empty plastic cup and soda can inside one another and shut the tray, unbuckling the flimsy seatbelt to stand. “I’m going to use the restroom now.”

“Yeah?” He raised his eyebrows and unbuckled his own belt. “How long should I wait? Two—three minutes?”

“Alone.” I patted his shoulder before squeezing through the tiny space between his squashed legs and the seat in front of him, ass first. “Nice try though.”

“Tease,” I heard him mumble from the aisle. I smiled to myself all the way down the row and into the miniscule bathroom.

The mirror wasn’t much to look at, and the fluorescent lighting in the stall wasn’t doing anything for me either. I still patted the undersides of my eyes to make sure my concealer wasn’t creasing and fluffed my unwashed hair.

I was borderline catfishing the guy—the glamoured girl in my profile photos was not the same one staring back at me with barbeque chip dust on my chest. Shit. To be fair though, if I was on an actual date, I would have dressed the part. This was the steady relationship, comfortable not showering for three days Ophelia, and Frankie got her right out of the gate. Not that it deterred him in the slightest. I wasn’t sure he even noticed.

I spent another few minutes checking for anything in my teeth and taming the halo of frizz over my forehead, and as I was about to leave, someone knocked on the door.

“Just a minute!”

Another knock.

Oh—no way.

He didn’t actually think the two of us were gonna get each other off in the airplane bathroom? And why didn’t that disgust me as much as it did an hour before?

I pulled the lock and swung the door outward. “I am not having sex with you!”

Expecting Frankie, a bucket of cold water was thrown in my face when the person standing outside was the flight attendant from the cart earlier.

“Are you okay, miss?” she asked skeptically.

“I’m so sorry, I’m fine. I thought—”

Before I could incriminate myself further, the freckle-faced attendant pointed at the blinking red seatbelt sign. “We’re about to hit some mild turbulence. If you could just return to your seat.”

“Of course.” I ducked around her and beelined back to my row, not even caring about the dramatic way I flung myself over Frankie’s lap and into the shadow between his shoulder and the window.

He studied me. “You okay? You look a little flushed.”

“The flight attendant thinks I’m a voyeuristic, polyamorous whore.”

His lips parted and a sliver of pink tongue poked out. “You were gone for like, two minutes, troublemaker.”

“You were supposed to be the one who knocked on the door.”

Dark brown eyes opened wide in surprise, and he pointed at his chest. “Me? You told me loud and clear.” He mimicked my voice. “Alone, Frankie.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time a guy didn’t take no for an answer.” I huffed.

He stared at me as the flush of my skin lessened from crimson to pink. “So should I...” He began unbuckling his seatbelt again, as if he was going to head to the bathroom himself.

“Sit!” I grabbed him by the bicep, feeling every hard ridge of muscle underneath the worn white button-down he had on. “Please, sit. We can’t draw any more attention to ourselves. Let’s just…” I tapped on the touch screen in front of me and started scrolling. “Watch a movie.”

“I don’t know,” he tsked. “With your track record, how do I know you won’t try to fondle me under the airline blanket?”

“Actually? You’re not that funny anymore.”

“But you did think I was funny?”

“No, I take it back. You were never funny.”

“Too late.” He pinched the skin above my elbow playfully, and the second I lifted it off the armrest, his own arm took its place.