“Nonsense.” Dom blows off my comment as we stop behind the one other person in line. “Every flight should start with a cookie.”
I mean, I agree. Which is why I bought one for myself. But he doesn’t exactly look like the type of person who indulges in desserts. Unless he spends every morning in the gym.
I glance at his chest, trying to tell if I can see hints of more tattoos through his white shirt or if I’m imagining it.
The person ahead of us takes their purchase and moves away so Dom can step forward.
“Three chocolate chip cookies, please.” He looks back at me. “Need a drink?”
I shake my head, not even bothering to protest at this point.
I’ll just let the man buy me a cookie, and then I’ll put it in my bag and wait until I can eat it in private, huddled against the window on the plane.
But then I consider the possibility of getting chocolate on the interior of my brand-new backpack, and it makes me want to gag.
Dom accepts the paper bag from the cashier, three cookies inside, and I sidestep around him, making way for the next person in line, before walking out of the tiny bakery.
I can feel his presence at my side before he holds out one of the cookies for me.
When I hesitate, he lifts it an inch higher. “Indulge my bossiness this one last time.”
“I was always warned about taking candy from strangers,” I murmur, even as I take it.
“Good thing it’s not candy,” Dom replies.
I can’t help my eye roll.
“Shall we?” He gestures toward our gate with the remaining two cookies, which are stacked bottom to bottom.
Before I answer, I look at the backpack still slung over one of his shoulders. “Will you let me carry my bag?”
“Nope.” Dom shakes his head once, then takes a giant bite of his double-decker cookie.
“I feel like I should probably argue with you one of these times.”
“Why?” Dom takes another bite.
“Because.”
His lips quirk as he drapes a heavy arm over my shoulders and starts us down the hall. “Life is too short not to lean in, my Valentine.”
My Valentine. Jesus.
I follow his direction literally and lean into his side.
His body is firm and warm and… I inhale and almost groan.
He smells like sex appeal.
Like someone took every secret desire I’ve ever had and bottled it up into an exclusive cologne that only my soulmate could wear and get away with.
“And really, we’re both getting something out of this,” he continues, and I force myself to focus. “Probably me more than you.”
“I got a new backpack that cost several hundred dollars and a fresh new cookie.” I glance up at him. “What do you get?”
His arm is heavy around my shoulders as he speaks. “Something interesting to break up my day. The company of a beautiful woman.” He lifts his other hand. “Cookies.”
My eyes move to his half-eaten stack of cookies as I try to figure out if this is real or if I fell and cracked my head on the floor and am hallucinating the whole thing.
“Make me happy, Angel.” I glance back up, finding his blue eyes locked on mine. “Let me feed you. Eat your treat.”
My breath catches, my mind sprinting to images of me on my knees, one of his hands in my hair…
Don’t go there, Val.
Tentatively, I take a bite of my cookie. When I do, I can feel his hum of appreciation where my body is pressed against his.
I think I hear him say something. Something like that’s my girl, but that can’t be right.
In silence that should be uncomfortable, I walk through the busy airport terminal, eating a cookie, with a handsome-as-hell man at my side. His arm is still over my shoulder, and my backpack is on his back, like we’re a happy couple on vacation, not a pair of total strangers who literally ran into each other.
But what’s the harm in pretending?
Lean in.
My eyes flutter closed for two steps as I let myself lean into him. Lean into the feeling. Lean into the make-believe world where this is my life. Where this man is really here with me. Where I’m happy. Loved.
A tightness wraps around my throat, and I blink my eyes open, shoving another bite of cookie into my mouth.
Make-believe, indeed.
At least side by side he can’t watch me eat, so I hurry and finish the rest of my cookie. Because this is the real world. And he’s just being nice.
He’s probably someone who travels a lot. Probably a little bored. And sure, I’m cute enough. I’m chubby, but I think I carry it okay and my face is nice. But in my tennis shoes and bright yellow dress, I’m no match for him.