Page 32 of Her Devils

Maybe waking up early has an ulterior advantage other than being part of my routine. Hopefully six is too early for Anna to latch onto me, and I can have breakfast and get to the airfield bright and early and totally undetected.

I grab the bag with my wingsuit and the rest of my equipment and cautiously open the door, looking into the hotel hallway.

I step out, relieved that there’s no one out here, just like I was hoping.

Theclickof another door opening literally makes me jump out of my skin. The hotel bookings for both our teams were made together by Gina’s admin team, so we’re all on the same floor.

Relief floods my body when I see that it isn’t Anna, but Lenley who’s just stepped out of her room.

Our eyes meet, and when she blushes adorably, I realize that she isn’t coming out of her own room but Channing’s, and she’s in yesterday’s clothes.

My lips quirk up in a teasing smile. “Good morning, princess,” I say softly, respectful of the fact that most of the other guests are probably still asleep. “Did you wake up early, or did Channing keep you up all night?”

Her cheeks redden even more. “No, I just—Channing is still asleep. I always wake up early on competition days. When mypapàwas alive, he always woke up early to get ‘in the zone,’ and I’d wake up with him whenever school didn’t keep me from following him. After...” She pauses, inhaling deeply. “After the accident, when Darrius started competing, I woke up early because I was anxious. This morning I realized that I’m not anxious just because of Darrius. Now, I’m going to be watching you, Peyton, and Channing just as anxiously.”

I take a step toward her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. “You don’t have to worry about us, princess,” I reassure her. “We’re going to be just fine. Heaven doesn’t want three Devils, and hell isn’t ready for us yet.” I chuckle with a wink in her direction.

That was the wrong thing to say, though, judging by the way Lenley shakes off my arm and glares at me. “Don’t even say that. It isn’t funny.”

Fuck.

“I’m sorry, Lenley. I didn’t mean to make fun of your worries. I—” Shit. I didn’t consider to what extent Patrick’s accident still affects Lenley—not that I should be surprised, since she was extremely close to her father. “I wasn’t trying to joke about what happened or make fun of your fears. I was just trying to make you laugh so you would feel better, and I ended up sounding like a complete asshole.”

I’m surprised by Lenley’s smile. “I know you weren’t. Sorry, I just—”

I’m grateful that she understands my idiotic sense of humor. “I’ll tell you what. I have a whole superstitious routine that protects me from anything ever going wrong, and that starts with getting my breakfast to go and eating it by the airfield before all the other competitors arrive. What do you say, do you want to join me?”

She looks uncertain. “I’d love to have breakfast with you, but I don’t want to mess with your routine. If something did go wrong, I’d feel responsible.”

I chuckle. “Nah, you aren’t a competitor, so we’re good. Occasionally I have breakfast with one of the others if they wake up early enough.”

It’s a lie, but she doesn’t know that.

“Are you sure? I mean, technically I work for the Angels, so—”

I pull her closer again. “Yeah, but we’re friends now, right? Not just you and me, but our teams are too.”

She nods, still looking undecided.

“Do you want the guys or me to perform badly today?”

Lenley shakes her head. “Of course not.”

“Then we aren’t competitors,” I say, looking into her green eyes. “Let’s go.”

She still resists, lowering her eyes to look down at her sexy body. “That sounds great, Jameson, but I’m still in yesterday’s clothes. I can’t come to the airfield this way, someone might notice. I need to change, but I don’t want to make you late.”

I grin at her. She’s cute when she’s embarrassed. I get it though. I’m sure she’s right, and the team would notice if she turned up in yesterday’s clothes. “I’ll tell you what. Go get changed, and I’ll get us breakfast then meet you at the shuttle.”

One of the things I like most about Lenley DeLaurent, aside from her total lack of bitchiness, is that she looks equally pretty when she’s dressed to the nines and when she shows up in jean cutoffs without a speck of makeup on her face.

We’re the only passengers on the shuttle this early in the morning, and that’s exactly what I was hoping for. I hate being surrounded by too many people when I’m trying to get into competition mode.

Lenley sits next to me, and I deposit the bag with our breakfast by our feet before wrapping my arm around her shoulders.

“Princess,” I murmur, “it’s nice to have some quality time with you at last.” I lower my head so that our noses almost touch.

“Yeah, it is,” she agrees, but her shoulders stiffen, and I know I said the wrong thing.

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