Page 61 of Counterfeit Connection

He bends to kiss the top of my head. “Good.”

I watch him as he takes a seat directly across from me, rather than next to me, so we are facing one another with a shiny, dark-oak table between us. He speaks briefly with the flight attendant and pilot, introducing me to both, before he buckles up and takes a deep breath.

“Now you’re the one looking pale,” I say.

“I don’t enjoy flying. Not even a little.”

“Uh oh,” I try to tease him to lighten the mood. “So no mile-high club for us then?”

He smiles for a moment then shakes his head. “I don’t hate itthatmuch.”

“I’m sure you fly a lot for work. Why does it make you so nervous?”

His lips turn downward and he scrubs his hand over the scruff of a five o’clock shadow rolling in. “My brother, Joseph, died in a crash. I haven’t been comfortable with it since.”

I feel like an asshole. Here I am so worried about an article that will line cat boxes soon and he’s going through real trauma right now. “I’m so sorry. Of course.” I take hold of his hand tightly. “What can I do to help you?”

His thumb glides slowly in rhythm across the back of my knuckles. “You’re doing it for now. Once we hit cruising speed, I’ll take curling up with you and the kitten on the bed in the back. I promise we’ll just stay close. No other motives.”

“I don’t mind either way.” We stare into each other’s eyes silently for a few minutes. The only sounds are that of the plane and anytime the pilot comes over the intercom. Once we get the all clear to move about the cabin, I can see the tension visibly leave Griffin’s body. “Show me the way?”

He smiles a wicked grin and unbuckles before rising to his feet. Sometimes it’s easy to forget just how tall he is. He’s like a tree I really, really like climbing. He tells the attendant we’ll be retiring to the bedroom for a while then he takes my hand in one of his, and scoops up Marilyn with the other. “Shall we?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

I’m not sure how long we’ve been sleeping when I finally open my eyes again after settling into his arms. He moved to his back at some point and I rolled over to snuggle into the crook of his arm, and Marilyn is curled up against his leg. That little bitch is trying to steal him from me. I just know it.

I freeze at the thought. Steal him? If something really isn’t yours, it can’t be stolen. I shake the realization away and gasp when a little turbulence rocks the jet.

“Holy fuck,” I whisper to myself.

Griffin’s arms wrap tighter around me. “Mountain range.”

My body relaxes a little with the subtle stroke of his touch. “I always forget. How was your nap?”

“I don’t usually nap, so this was unexpectedly nice.”

“How will we survive nine hours from my dad’s to London?”

“Well, we could nap again…or not.”

“Griffin, with all that time we could do both twice.”

“Should I take that as a challenge?” he smirks.

Being on the ground and within fifteen minutes from home has made me happier than I thought possible. I have the window down so I can soak in not only the sun, but the smells of the countryside. Everything is so lush and green. It beats the hell out of my tiny little hydroponic garden I have to settle for.

“I should probably warn you about my dad,” I tell Griffin as I slide my hands over the plush leather of the luxurious Range Rover he rented for our time here.

“He’s not going to threaten me or anything, right?”

“I can’t really guarantee that either way, but he loves to talk. He will tell you every story he can think of about me, and if you bring up something he has vague knowledge of, he will pick your brain.”

“Sounds like my kind of man. I have a feeling we will be fast friends.”

I scoff, “Not if he knew all the dirty things you did to his daughter the other day.”

“Careful,” he says as he turns off the highway and onto one of the many long, curvy backroads. “I’ll pull over and do them all again before we get there because I’m not going to touch you under your father’s roof.”

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