Page 9 of Just This Once

Bobbing in my seat with triumph, I composed a quick retort, you know, just to rub my victory in his face.

Could you make it thirty minutes, please? There’s a creepy fucker next to me who won’t stop touching my leg.

“Hey!” the creepy fucker next to me cried in offense.

I glanced up, surprised. “Are you reading my texts?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I never touched your leg.”

Lifting my brows knowingly, I sniffed before bowing my face to type,

And he’s a lying asshole who’s reading this over my shoulder as I type too. I’ll probably be cut into tiny, little pieces and deposited in his trunk if you wait?—

I never intended to actually send that one, just prove to the perv that he was indeed being creepy by reading my private conversation.

But with an outraged growl, he slapped the phone clear out of my hands. “Stop talking about me.”

The woman sitting on the other side of him glanced over in alarm.

Pulling an AirPod from one ear, she demanded, “Dude. Did you just slap her phone from her hand?”

“I—she—” His face turned a bright, angry red, and words failed him.

“Mature,” I told him dryly as I clicked off my seat belt and slid down onto the floorboard to retrieve my device, glad I had a sturdy case.

The woman continued to gape at the man as if he were Satan while he fumbled out his defense, knowing he couldn’t say any rebuttal good enough to prove hewasn’tan asshole.

It was awesome.

From the speakers, they announced that people could begin to disembark. So both the man and woman in my row stood, in a hurry to leave.

I remained where I was, knowing it’d be a while. Parker would probably dawdle for two hours now that I’d demanded he put a rush on it, so I had plenty of time.

After the woman fetched her overhead, the man sent me one last scathing glower. I said nothing, just watched him reach up and grab his bag. I knew he’d pushed mine further back to makeit harder for me to reach when he glanced at me with a malicious smirk.

I sighed dismally, not at all shocked, and just stared at him dryly, glad I’d never have to deal with him again.

Until I reached the luggage claim ten minutes later, where my entire flight was gathered, waiting for the conveyor belt to spit out some results. After glancing around, I inadvertently made eye contact with the creep, and he sneered in return.

Heaving out a deep breath, I found a big pillar to lean against, stationed away from the rest where I could mind my own business and plan everything I wanted to do now that I was home.

The first stop was definitely Alec. Then I seriously needed some of Westport’s famous Froyo. And from there, the beach.

Oh yeah, I needed a big dose of sun and sand.

When the luggage finally arrived another ten minutes later, I was in no hurry to fetch my things, so I held back, letting everyone else go ahead of me.

As soon as the path cleared, however, I stepped forward.

My lovely seatmate was still pulling a spinner from the checked bags, and by the way he was turned, I assumed he’d go right from there and carry on in that direction.

But as the wheels of his hardshell hit the floor, he swiveled left, directly into my path instead.

We collided hard, and I went tumbling backward, landing on my ass and causing my purse and carry-on to tumble to the floor around me.

“Shit, I’m—” He started to apologize, his eyes wide, until he realized it was me he’d knocked over.

As I collected my fallen phone and magazine, shoving them back into my purse, he narrowed his eyes and sniffed. “I should’ve known it’d beyou.”

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