Page 34 of The Making of Marnie Jones

She trusted Colton and Seth, Rusty and Tristan. She trusted Loriana.

Maybe she could trust Jake McGrath.

Or not.

Chapter fourteen

Marnie’swondermentwasbreathtaking.She was being a real champ. She’d squeezed her eyes shut during the takeoff, but now they were open, her face full of amazement.

“That wasn't so bad.” Her tone was full of awe.

“And now you get pretzels and drinks.” Jake wouldn’t think about how lovely she looked when she smiled, or the sparkle in her deep green eyes.She’s just another friend. Yeah, right. Pull the other one.

“Alcohol?”

“If you choose.”

She grimaced. “I don't drink.”

“Have you ever had a drink?”

She paused, then must have figured there was no harm in explaining. “When you miss your teenage years, you miss the experimentation.”

She waved her hand in the air, evidently trying to convey her frustration at what that fucking asshole had stolen from her.

“I'm not sure I’d have tried it even if I had the chance. The fear of being caught and disappointing my father played a big role.”

Comprehension dawned—her entire life revolved around not making waves. Not bringing attention to herself. She’d missed having normal teenage years. Would she have continued on as status quo or rebelled? He couldn’t see her as a troublemaker. Martin Derks had a reputation for being a tyrant, and Laura’d probably lived in fear of him.

Marnie.She was Marnie now. The stark difference in her appearance served as a tangible reminder of her name change. Too bad Marnie couldn't erase Laura's terrible memories when she excised her identity, but the mind didn't work that way. Her teenage trauma was just below the surface. Maybe not apparent to most, but clearly visible to him.

And he didn't even know all her secrets, her nightmares.

When the flight attendant asked, he passed on his usual beer and requested a cup of tomato juice.

Marnie's eyes lit up. “I'll have one as well.” She accepted the drink and took a sip. “What happens next?”

“Well, first dinner, then the cabin dims, and people can watch a movie.” He pointed to the screen on the seat in front of her.

She wrinkled her nose. “Not interested. I can read, right?”

“Yes.” He flipped on her light. “The cabin dims, but you can read by the light.”

“I won't disturb anyone?”

“No.” He fought to keep the amusement from his voice. “You won't be disturbing anyone. That's why everyone has his or her own light. What are you reading, by the way?“

She pulled out a thriller from an author whose books graced many an airport kiosk.

“It's one of her older books.” She fingered the cover. “I recently discovered her, and I'm now trying to catch up on her previous works.” She grinned. “The woman is positively prolific. I'm facing another few weeks of reading.”

He was a quick reader. He doubted, however, he’d be able to keep up with her. Of course, his day job kept him too busy to do much reading for pleasure.

“You love reading, don't you?”

“Reading means everything to me.” Her bright eyes again sparkled. Literature seemed to be a safe topic, and clearly one close to her heart. “It’d devastate me if I couldn’t read.” Even as she made the statement, she yawned. The steward came by, collecting their cups.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” He’d noticed mauve smudges under her eyes but chose not to comment.

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