Page 107 of Hot Shot

This makes no sense. What is even happening?

“I’m coming to Spain with you,” he repeats.

I close my eyes. “Why? I don’t understand. How? What . . . ?”

He grins and strokes my hair again with a tender gesture. “We need to talk.”

“So you . . . you got on this flight so we could talk?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Let’s get your seatbelt fastened and once they stop yakking about emergency exits and shit, we can talk.” He reaches across me to find my seatbelt and I fumble to locate the other end and click them together. Then he does up his own.

Someone sits in the aisle seat next to Marco, an older man. Marco smiles at him, then reaches for my hand.

I sit waiting, my heart thudding so loud I can’t even hear the flight attendant talking as the plane begins to move slowly away from the terminal. I turn to peer out the window but have no idea what I’m looking at.

We taxi and taxi, sit and wait, and then finally with a roar of the engines we’re speeding down the runway and lifting off. I’m usually a little nervous about takeoffs and landings, but today I’m so confused and distracted by Marco’s big, warm hand holding mine I forget to be afraid.

I don’t know what’s going on.

“Okay?” Marco murmurs, squeezing my hand.

I nod and dare a glance at him. His eyes are warm, but also hold a hint of something else . . . uncertainty? Fear? I’m pretty sure he’s not afraid of flying, with the career he had. I wouldn’t think he’s afraid ofanything.

“I can’t let you go,” he says.

Again . . . is this real? I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

“I know you have to do this,” he continues, now holding my hand in both his. His strength seeps into me and eases my shivering inside despite my hot skin. “I know you have to go to Spain. I get it. I want to tell you something, though. Well, I want to tell you a lot of things. Things I should have said sooner.” He grimaces.

“How did you do this?”

“I watched you book your flight and pick your seat, so I knew which flight you were on. I booked this yesterday, after I figured out what I had to do. A little luck helped, that this seat wasn’t taken.”

“But . . . why?”

“I told you. Because I can’t let you go, and there are things I need to say to you.”

“But . . . how long are you coming to Spain for? Because . . . ”

“Just a couple of weeks.” He shrugs. “The guys said they could manage without me that long, even though I am pretty much indispensable.”

I have to smile at that. “Right.”

“I’ll help get you settled,” he continues. “In your apartment. Get the lay of the land. Maybe take you to a topless beach.”

“There aren’t any beaches in Madrid.”

“Damn.” He grins. “Maybe we can take a quick weekend trip to the Mediterranean.”

My lower belly does a little flip. My heart starts to flutter with joy. I’m still not sure what is happening here, but hope blossoms inside me.

He turns my hand over in his and looks down at where our fingers join. “Okay,” he says. “Here’s the deal. I know it was supposed to be a short little fun fling until you left. But the truth is . . . I fell in love with you.” He blows out a sharp breath. “And this is going to be really fucking awkward for the next few hours if you don’t feel the same.”

I gaze at him, heart pounding wildly. “I do.”

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