Page 49 of You, Me, and Forever

I used the pad of my thumb to swipe away her tear and shook my head. “Don’t apologize for something you didn’t do.”

“I’m glad I’m coming with you. If there’s anything that I can do to make things better, you just say the word.”

“Is making the mile-high club an option?” I asked. She pinched me on the shoulder before sliding back onto her seat.

“I’m serious, Myles.”

“I am too.” I winked and her cheeks pinked. “We’re already friends who make out. Why not up the stakes? We can be friends who have sex in airplane bathrooms?”

Truth be told, I’d be willing to spend a whole week with my father if it meant I could spend twenty minutes in the airplane bathroom with Montana Kingsley.

Chapter ThirteenMontana

We’d arrived in New York a few hours ago, and a car waited on the runway for us. Myles St. James sure knew how to travel in style. I’d been flustered the entire flight because the man teased me relentlessly about joining the mile-high club.

I’d always laughed at the concept. I had a memory of a flight that Phillip and I were on a year and a half ago, when we flew to Hawaii for a wedding for one of his fraternity brothers. He’d gone on and on about how his friend Carl had made the mile-high club with his then fiancée. Phillip thought it was ludicrous to cram into the small space with your partner. He’d made the comment that he would be more content with just himself and his hand.

I should’ve been offended.

But the truth was, I had no desire to cram into a small space with Phillip Moon as he panted in my ear and chased his own pleasure.

In that moment, I remember thinking that my middle seat in coach and my bag of nuts were way more appealing.

But I’d be willing to cram into a small space and stand barefoot on a floor covered in up-facing nails if it meant I could have sex with Myles St. James.

That’s how attracted to him I was.

And it also terrified me, because I liked him.

I liked him a lot.

Every time I thought about him leaving Blushing, my chest squeezed.

I was getting attached to a man whom I’d probably see once a year, when he popped into our small town to check on his gargantuan hotel.

I pushed the thought away as I applied eye shadow to my lids. He’d given me my own room at his stunning penthouse apartment in the middle of Manhattan, but he’d followed the offer by telling me he liked sleeping with me last night, and he’d be pleased if I slept in his bed again.

No strings attached.

But my internal heartstrings were attaching like jellyfish tentacles to a human foot.

All needy and desperate.

I sighed before putting on a coat of mascara. I was meeting Myles’s family tonight, and he’d basically prepared me for the worst possible experience one could conjure up.

I took one last look in the mirror and ran my hands down my black cocktail dress, turning to see the way it hugged my ass perfectly. I slipped on a pair of red Manolo Blahniks, my big splurge when the Blushing Bride was mentioned inCosmopolitanmagazine last year.

My hair fell in loose waves over my shoulders, and I slipped on a few gold bracelets and grabbed my gold sparkly clutch before stepping out of the guest bedroom.

There was classical music playing in the living room, and Myles stood behind the bar as his eyes scanned me from head to toe. I didn’t squirm or call him out, because I liked it.

I liked when his eyes were on me.

And they usually were when we were in the same room.

“Wow. You look stunning.”

“Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself, Moneybags.” I sauntered over to the bar and took the glass of chardonnay that heheld out for me. He wore a black suit with a black dress shirt, and he looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine.

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