Page 1 of Her Pretty Words

Chapter 1

Macy

Inearly killed a man earlier. Perhaps that’s on the melodramatic side, yet my palms bear crescent marks from squeezing my fists together to restrain myself from punching my fiancé in his beautifully cruel face.

The words “I do” pound against my skull like someone’s beating me over the head with a baseball bat again and again and agai?—

“Do you need some help, miss?”

I blink a couple of times, realizing I’m crumpling the magazine I mindlessly picked up. I meet eyes with an older woman stationed behind a gift shop desk with a concerned, borderline frightened, expression.

I clear my throat. “Sorry! I’ll take this,” I say, a bit high pitched for my liking. I put the magazine I have no intention of reading and a pack of gum on the counter. She’s quick to swipe my card, eyeing the plastic bag she places my items in as though extending them to me would put herself in danger like petting an alligator. I grab my purchase and stuff it into my suitcase. “Thank you,” I say with a smile.

Thousands of voices infiltrate my ears when I step out of the store and into the organized chaos. I’m lost among the crowdof travelers in the JFK airport, far ways away from Walter, my fiancé.

By now, I’ve triple checked I’m at the right terminal for my layover. The white boarding pass in my hand says so, but for safe measure, I make my way to the screen that displays today’s flights. A tight crowd gathers in front of it, and I have to force my way between people to read the words, during which I smack into a wall of muscle.

A huff of air escapes my lips. “Excuse me,” I say with a smile in my voice. When the owner of such a hard chest doesn’t move, I crane my neck and nearly blush at the striking man towering above me. “Excuse me,” I repeat, assuming he didn’t hear me the first time.

His gaze seems to make its way slowly up my body, pinning on the boarding pass I’m holding for a moment, and finally settling on my face with not so much as a blink. Lips parted, he doesn’t step aside. I clear my throat, causing him to blink several times at me, as though he’s coming out of a trance.

“Your flight is canceled,” he says, voice deep and masculine.

I reel back, raising an eyebrow at the stranger in front of me. He doesn’t know what flight I’m on.I step aside, finally able to view the screen. My eyes travel over the different flights. Once I spot mine, I drag my gaze across the row to the flight time. The word canceled is in bright red.That can’t be right.I check again, dragging my finger horizontally in the air, and still reaching the same conclusion.

My expression falls and I can feel my heart begin to speed.

“Told you,” a deep voice says from directly behind me.

I slowly turn to him, getting lost for a moment in light blue eyes, the shade of glaciers. But then, as if the grin spreading across his face is an anecdote to the spell I’m under, I immediately sober. The stranger’s cocky grin is a feather restedon top of the crushing weight I’ve carried today, suppressing me whole.

“Excuse me?” I squeeze my hands into fists in an attempt to contain my emotions, worsening the marks from earlier.

His eyes crinkle at the sides, as if the ruination of my day is amusing. I can’t help but notice how undeserving he is of the luscious eyelashes framing the glaciers. Before I can stop him, he pulls my boarding pass out of my hand.

I swallow down the annoyance brewing beneath my skin. Hanging on to the last thread of my patience, I say as kind as one can through gritted teeth, “Give that back.” I inhale a deep breath. “Please.”

“All flights to the west coast of Florida are canceled,” he says calmly, holding up my boarding pass.

Before I can respond, a muffled voice comes through the intercom. “Flight 547 to Fort Myers, Florida has been canceled due to weather.”

The guy’s eyebrows raise in the most infuriatingtold you soface I’ve ever seen.

My sweaty palms grip the handle of my suitcase. I bite back the words I have for him, and weave in and out of the mass of bodies.

“Excuse me, coming through,” I say countless times. Once I’m finally spit out of the crowd, I need to find my way to a ticket counter. Several minutes go by, and when I find it, my entire body feels as if it’s frowning. There are already dozens of people forming a line.

As though he can sense my presence, the guy turns right as my eyes lock on his. They wrinkle in the corner when he sees the displeasure on my face. He’s second in line. I’m sure the crowd naturally parted for all six foot four of him—if I had to guess his height.

My legs carry me right up to him before my mind can stop them. Countless voices complain, protesting about me skipping the line. Ineedto be on the next flight to Fort Myers, so I muster up my sweetest smile and wrap a hand around the guy’s arm—which feels like steel beneath his hoodie.Of course it does.I turn to the people behind me and give them a polite smile. “I’m with him.”

The guy peeks down at me with a raised brow. I widen my eyes, silently pleading with him to go along with this. The corner of his lips tick up in amusement. We both step forward when the person in front of us leaves the line. I smile wide at the ticket agent, who looks no older than eighteen.

“Hi. I need to book another flight,” I say, putting my boarding pass on the wooden counter and sliding it in his direction.

His eyes go everywhere but my face as he mumbles, “There aren’t any flights to Fort Myers until further notice.” I can hardly hear past the lisp caused by his bright blue braces.

“Sir…” I glance at his nametag. “Erick. I live on the other side of the country. This is my layover.” I look at him with pleading eyebrows. “What am I supposed to do?”

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