Page 10 of Cloud Nine Love

There was a collective moan throughout the executive lounge. I might be the only person who wasn’t disappointed. I wasn’t sure if it was my current company or if I just wasn’t ready to face my new reality. Somehow, I knew that once I boarded my next plane and left Chicago, everything was going to change.

The airline employee lifted her hand into the air. “To apologize for the inconvenience, Eagle Airlines would love to offer our first-class customers a one night stay at the Best Western. We have a shuttle waiting outside to take you to the hotel.”

I glanced back at my mysterious stranger and saw she was standing and putting on her coat, indicating she was going to take them up on their offer.

A shuttle. A hotel. Staying in Chicago overnight. This just kept getting better.

After I stood, I picked up my duffle bag, putting it over one shoulder before grabbing the handle of the pink and purple suitcase and extending my other arm. “After you, Ana.”

Her green eyes peered up at me through dark, thick lashes as a secret grin spread across her face. “Thanks, Kyle.”

4

TAYLOR

“Butterflies are real; the sensation is caused by adrenaline.” ~ Tim Rhodes

Every cell in my body was singing with awareness as I walked on weakened knees down the narrow aisle to the back of the shuttle and lowered myself onto a seat closest to the window. As I took a calm, cleansing breath, I placed my hand over my stomach, sure I’d be able to feel the butterflies that were throwing a rave in there.

He touched me. Again. Twice. Both lasted for only a split second. The first time was when we were navigating through the crowds in the airport, and he’d rested his hand on my lower back. The heat from his palm and fingers permeated the thin cotton of my shirt, and I felt his touch everywhere. The real mind-fuck was when he lowered his arm. I was disappointed.

The second time was when I climbed on the shuttle, and he offered me his hand. I placed my fingers on his palm, and it was Katy Perry’s “Firework”-level sparks. Speaking of Katy Perry, she might have kissed a girl and liked it, but I touched a boy and loved it.

I watched as Kyle stowed his bag and my suitcase beneath the bench and lowered down beside me. I couldn’t help but notice the tattoos peeking out from his long-sleeved thermal. I’d always been a sucker for tattoos. This man was ticking all my boxes, and I didn’t even know his name.

“Thanks, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did.”

I could see in his eyes that he actually did. It was the same look I’d seen when Ruth tried to insist that he didn’t need to walk her out to meet her granddaughter. I definitely heard a hint of a southern accent and wondered if being a gentleman was just how he was raised. Not to perpetuate the stereotype that men from the south were all gentlemen; I knew that wasn’t the case.

But in my experience, it rang true. Kane was from a small town in Texas, and he was the epitome of a Southern gentleman. Actually, Kyle reminded me a little bit of my baby daddy. They had the same alpha energy, minus any toxic masculinity. It was rare to find.

Maybe that’s why I was so comfortable around him. He made me feel as comfortable as Kane did, but I was also extremely attracted to him.

The shuttle jerked as it pulled away from the sidewalk, and the motion caused Kyle’s leg to brush up against mine. Instead of adjusting our positions, we both stayed where we were, which meant our legs were touching.

Personal space was something I not only valued deeply, I insisted upon it. But with this man, I found that all those boundaries did not apply.

My phone vibrated in my purse, and I jumped.

Kyle placed his hand on my knee. “You okay?”

The heat from his palm seeped through me, and a tingling sensation swirled in my lower belly.

“Mm, hmm. Yep. Fine.”

He grinned before removing his hand. Once again, I immediately felt the absence of his touch and missed it.

I pulled my phone out and saw it was another message from my cousin. She’d messaged me while we were in line for the shuttle for an update about my flight, and I’d told her it was canceled and I was heading to a hotel.

Kenna: Just a heads-up. You might want to take advantage of your last night of freedom before everything in your life is under a microscope.

Me: Got it.

Before I put my phone away, I saw that there were little bubbles, indicating she was writing her response. I waited for it to appear.

Kenna: I’m serious. You are stranded in an airport hotel. Find a hottie bo bottie, put on some ’90s R&B, and get freaky. Have a one-night stand so I can live vicariously through you.

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