Page 34 of Fit for Love

His slow clap is drowning in sarcasm.“Judgey much?”

Me, judgey?“Are you saying you didn’t sleep with half of Manhattan?”

My voice rises, and I realize the other passengers are staring at us open-mouthed.

He narrows his eyes.“Unlike you, I don’t have one-night stands.”

I’m so shocked by the blatant lie that I take a step back—and smash right into a flight attendant.After mumbling my apologies, I turn back to him.“Are you actually serious right now?”

“Madam, please take a seat.”

I whirl on her.“Madam?Me?Do I look like I run a brothel?”

Ashton chuckles, damn him.

The flight attendant stiffens.“If you don’t take a seat, I’ll have to get the Air Marshal.”

“Fine.I’m going.”I turn back to glare at Ashton one more time.“I hope you can at least act cordially at the wedding.”

“Pot,” he says with an infuriating smile.“Meet kettle.”

Worried I’ll get cuffed by the Air Marshal if I speak—or more precisely, scream—my mind, I stomp away and wedge myself into my middle seat.

At that moment, the baby who had finally fallen quiet resumes crying with renewed vigor.My stinky neighbor returns to his seat, and in addition to his prior stench, he now also smells like the blue liquid in plane toilets.

Oh, and speaking of toilets, I never got the chance to use one, and now it would be way too awkward to go again.

Fuming, I suffer for what feels like a hundred hours until we land.As soon as my malodorous neighbor gets up, I squeeze past him and tug on the handle of my carry-on, which appears to be stuck between two other suitcases.

Suddenly, a long, muscular arm reaches past me and carefully extricates my luggage.

My brain gives my mouth the command to say thanks, but then I see that the helper is Ashton, which might be why what escapes my lips is, “Thank fuck you.”

“I’ll pass,” he says, holding my (quite heavy for its size) suitcase in the air, like it weighs nothing.“If I accept that ‘thank you’ fuck, you’ll disappear without a trace again—and Emma wants you at her wedding.”

I jerk my suitcase away from him, and it nearly lands on my foot.“Don’t touch my things ever again.”

Grunting in frustration, he turns on his heel and pushes through the people nearby back toward the front of the plane.

That’s better.

I get off the plane, finally use a bathroom, and then summon an Uber.According to the app, my ride is right next to the airport and therefore five minutes away.

When I get to the curb, a passing-by limo stops in front of me, and one of the blacked-out windows rolls down, revealing Ashton.“You want a lift?”

I adore limo rides, but not at the cost of his company, so I shake my head.

“We could just sit in silence,” he says.“Or discuss how we’re going to make sure we don’t spoil the wedding.”

“The strategy is simple: don’t get in my way,” I snap.“As to the ride, no thanks—I’ve got my own car on the way.”

His jaw ticks.“Come on.Get in.”

“No.”

He sighs.“You seriously would rather ride with a stranger?Alone?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

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