Page 1 of A Secret Crush Valentine's

Prologue

Six Weeks Ago

Hello, this is Julia Reel, reporting live from Daystar Airlines Flight 18, about 30,000 feet above Nebraska. Right now, the temperature is 70 degrees—at least from where I’m sitting. We’ve got mostly clear skies and no rain today, as you can see. Temperatures are expected to rise by evening, and… damn, folks, is itboringup here.

With a sigh, she cut her gaze from the window, leaning back into the headrest. She closed her eyes, counted to 10, and reopened them. Nothing had changed. Boredom settled over her like a weighted blanket.

At least this flight will soon be over,she thought.Before long, we’ll be touching down in Chicago.

She twirled her scarlet curls between her fingers, feeling a slight rush of relief. This vacation just might be the best thing to happen to her in the last couple of years. Twelve weeks of pure bliss at the Four Seasons Hotel, far away from everything and everyone. For the next 12 weeks, she wasn’t a weather reporter, which meant she got to let her hair down instead of keeping it pinned up in a bun like she was on air.

Julia tried to recline in her seat, which was difficult to do with her seatbelt on. She settled for a half-slouch, which she figuredmade her look like that goofy sloth fromIce Age. Sydney? Sid? Seth? Julia didn’t care anyway.

She glanced around the cabin just as a wave of turbulence rocked the plane. She could barely see over the seats in front of her, much less the heads of the passengers occupying them. Her roving eyes took inventory regardless, searching for anything interesting. There was a man in the other aisle drooling down his chin as he snored, a young woman who looked just as bored as Julia, and a blond guy with a buzz cut wearing headphones and bobbing his head to music. Nothing out of the ordinary.

She narrowed her eyes, her gaze settling on the passenger next to her. The woman on her right definitely looked interesting enough. Between her beanie and the large wool sweater she was wearing, she might as well have been preparing for winter. The only problem was that it was still the middle of November. It should be a couple of weeks, at least, before the first few flecks of snow start to come down. She held a book in her lap that she was perusing intermittently.

“Can’t imagine you’re not hot under all that clothing.”

It took Julia a moment to realize she’d spoken out loud. The woman glanced up at her, an eyebrow disappearing beneath her blonde fringe.

To Julia’s surprise, the woman cracked a grin.

“That’s a fancy accent you’ve got there,” she said.

Heat rose in Julia’s cheeks. She’d left Laudville, the small town where she’d grown up, to spend her college years at the University of Oxford and a couple more in Birmingham, England. Her accent wasn’t the only thing she’d acquired by the time she returned to the

States, but it was certainly the most conspicuous.

Without it, she might not have her job. A small part of reporting was the actual information. Most of it had to dowith appearances. Look sexy, but corporate, speak fluently, and bonus points if you’ve got an English accent that fits the look.

The past couple of years had been great, honestly. As much as she’d rather be pursuing a musical career instead of standing before a green screen and talking about the weather, she had to admit it wasn’t a terrible job. It was why she’d opted for a vacation instead of handing in her resignation.

Still… what she wouldn’t give to get into a studio someday. Accent or not, she had an amazing voice, and she’d been told so more times than she could count. But reporting, whether the weather or the general news, was something she’d always found herself doing ever since high school.

Quitting the newsletterall those years ago had been refreshing. She didn’t exactly have that luxury as an adult with bills to pay. A vacation had been the better option.

“Uh… thanks,” Julia replied. She eyed the wool sweater, which she suspected had layers of clothing underneath. “Aren’t you hot under all that? I’m surprised you aren’t sweating.”

The woman simply shrugged. “It’s going to get very cold soon.”

As a weather reporter herself, that made zero sense.

Isn’t winter weeks away?

The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She didn’t like winter, not because she couldn’t stand the cold, but because of the memories that slithered into her mind at the mere sight of snow: the memory of webbed cracks forming at their feet, spreading rapidly as the ice groaned and rumbled beneath them; of his wide, green eyes gazing into hers in that split second before the surface gave way and they fell into the dark depths; of the icy water filling her lungs as she clawed desperately for the surface.

How long ago had that been? Fifteen years? Sixteen by January. In 16 years, little had changed. The memoriescontinued to haunt her. No matter how much she tried to forget or how many songs she wrote in an attempt for catharsis.

The plane trembled again, snapping her back to attention. Her gaze landed again on the book in the woman’s lap. It reminded her of a dictionary, but she could barely make out half the words on the yellow pages.

“What’s with the book?” she wanted to know.

“It is power,” the woman replied simply.

Did she have something against giving meaningful answers?

“Power…” Julia tapped her chin until a thought occurred to her. “Right. You mean knowledge. As in, knowledge is power. You don’t look much like a nerd.”

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