Page 10 of Just This Once

Ignoring his hateful tone, I picked myself up and brushed myself off, muttering a sarcastic, “I’m fine. No need to worry.”

“I wasn’t,” he assured bitterly and started to walk past, only to pause. “You know, Itriedto be nice to you.”

“No,” I countered calmly. “You tried to feel me up when I was trapped next to you on a plane and couldn’t get away. Then, you tried to convince me how brave and wonderful you were by feeding me stories that would hopefully scare me into clinging to you for support, only to then turn it around and make me out as the villain when I didn’t fall for it. You werenotnice.”

“Gah.” He hissed out a breath and shook his head in disgust. “You really are a bitch.”

I only smiled. “But at least I’m not you.”

He growled ominously, and I started to wonder if I’d crossed the line—would he become physically violent now? He’d already proven he could be by knocking my phone from my hands.

But thankfully, he only called me one last parting name, confusing me for a female body part instead of a full person, and he stalked off, making sure he rammed his shoulder into mine painfully as he passed.

I exhaled with a hiss and grabbed my arm that was definitely going to bruise, glad he hadn’t dislocated the joint at least.

Then, relieved he was gone, I reached for my first piece of checked luggage, only to hear a familiar voice from behind me drone, “Jesus, Trouble. You just make friends everywhere you go, don’t you?”

2

HOPE

Recognizing Parker’s sarcastic drawl anywhere, I straightened and spun around with a gasp.

And there he stood, all six glorious feet and three inches of him.

But God, he’d gotten even hotter in the past year and four months since I’d last seen him.

Hair could do such wondrous things for some people, I swear. He’d let his sandy brown mess go wild and unkempt, and he’d lost his razor while he was at it.

The untamed look totally did it for him, too. The man was, like, sex personified, I kid you not.

My stomach dipped dramatically, not used to being in the presence of such magnetism, and it took me a moment to swallow and pull myself back together after the little ogling session my mind went on.

But soon enough, I was able to scowl at him and growl, “You’re early,” in an accusing tone.

Parker merely lifted his brows. “And here, I thought I’d get bitched out for being too late.” Hitching his chin toward my departing seatmate, he asked, “That the creepy fucker who kept touching your leg?”

“Wow. How’d you guess?” I asked dryly.

“Hmm,” he murmured, slipping his hands into his pockets as he eyed the guy speculatively. Then he started away, adding, “Excuse me for a second.”

“Hey. Where do you think you’re—?” I blinked, gaping at him as he sauntered calmly toward the man as if taking a leisurely stroll in the park. “Grumpy!” I scolded harshly, hoping to call him back.

But all he did was casually slip a hand from one pocket and flip me off over his shoulder, letting me know I didn’t tell him what to do, as he kept walking, not even glancing back at me.

“Ugh.” I rolled my eyes and hurried after him, abandoning all my luggage. “What a stubborn, pain-in-the-ass, moronic?—”

I didn’t get to finish my grousing because Parker pleasantly called, “Hey, man,” to the other fellow as he waved him down.

My seatmate paused and turned back, lifting his brows curiously. “Yes?”

Parker flashed him a charming smile and held out his hand. “The name’s Parker,” he greeted.

Because, of course, he would want to shake the hand of the person who’d just bullied me, and probably commemorate him too. Take him out to lunch, buy him a trophy, all that jazz.

“And you are…?” Parker asked as my seatmate shook his hand with a confused squint.

“Devon Roark,” the man answered slowly before tipping his face in question. “Do we know each other?”

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