Page 93 of Mr. Charming

A big body presses against me from behind, and I look over my shoulder to see Tweetie. My eyes widen, and I step away, turning around and pushing him out of the small alcove I’m in. He laughs and doesn’t allow me to move him. The big brute.

“Nah, Dad told her that you don’t like new people.”

“He did not!” I keep giving Tweetie the death glare. He just laughs.

“He did. So it sucks for you. You can’t meet her.”

“I’ll change that.”

Tweetie tilts his head toward the waiting area and does a plane motion.

“Hey, Toby, we’re boarding, so I gotta go. I’ll call you when I land and get to the hotel. You’re picking me up, right?”

“Of course, I love taking the day off and being your chauffeur.”

Tweetie still hasn’t left, and I feel as though I’m half in and half out of this conversation with my brother.

“Please tell Mason I’m sorry again. I’ll find some way of making it up to him.”

Toby says something I don’t catch because Tweetie has moved me into a corner, his big body blocking my way. His head is beside my neck as he inhales, then moans.

“What are you doing?” Toby asks.

“Sorry. Gotta go. Love you.” I click End and push at Tweetie’s chest.

He chuckles, stepping back a bit. “Hey, you never said I couldn’t smell you.”

“You’re a beast.”

A wicked grin crosses his face. “One kiss.” He holds up his finger.

“Do I need to remind you of all the people out there? One being your coach, who I don’t think would be too happy about me screwing one of his players. Oh my god, I just realized I’m actually everything I was afraid to hire. I’ve done exactly what I tell all my employees not to do.”

“They’ll understand.” He inhales again and sighs. “I’m irresistible. You didn’t stand a chance.”

I shake my head, but I can’t fight the smile on my face. God, this man. “You’re sitting with your friends on the plane.”

His eyebrows draw down, and he pouts. “Nope. We have social media things to talk about.”

“No, we don’t.” I push him, and he stumbles back, still laughing.

“Half the trip I sit with you,” he says, but I shake my head. “Counteroffer?” he whispers in my ear and steps in line with me as I walk us back into the terminal.

“You have fifteen minutes, and we use it to discuss an idea I have.”

His head falls back. “I’ll take what I can get. So… who is Mason, and why are you sorry?”

It’s a reminder that although I feel as if no time has passed between us, it has. He doesn’t even know that Toby had a kid.

“Mason is my nephew. Toby’s son.”

He blinks a couple times, seeming to realize the same thing I just did. “And you’re sorry for?”

“I don’t want to tell you because if I do, you’re going to try to make something work.” I eye him. “Mostly to get in my pants.”

“Hey now, I’ve been respectable. Now what is it?”

“Nothing, but do you think you and maybe the rest of the Trifecta and Conor could sign some merch when we get to the hotel?”

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