Page 16 of Arse Over Irish Teacup
“Bethany Spinner. Most people call me Beth.”
“I’m Aidan Turner. Nice to meet you, Beth.” Part of him wanted to offer his hand in greeting but he ignored the urge.
As soon as he relaxed, she did too and they fell into simple conversation. “Did that hurt just now? Saying it was nice to meet me?”
He shook his head with a smirk and took a sip of his drink. “Are you traveling for business or pleasure?”
“Pleasure. You?”
“It’s more like a family obligation and I’ll use my work as an excuse to avoid as much contact with the family as possible.”
“Really? I can’t imagine wanting to hide from my family. Although, I don’t have much family so I guess I’m not the best reference. What’s the obligation?”
“My sister is getting married,” he took another deep sip of his drink, “again.”
“How many times has she been married?”
“This will be husband number four. I believe his name is Jimmy. There was Bono, and her first was Skip.” He thought for a minute. “I can’t remember the other one’s name. It didn’t last long enough to remember. I think she just trolls around for men with the dumbest names on earth. What sort of grown man calls himself Jimmy?”
Beth knew what sort but why mention that now?
“So, where are you flying to?” Aidan asked.
“Ireland.”
He spit a little then wiped the burning tomato juice from his eye. “Flying into Dublin or Shannon?” He hoped the horror creeping up his spine hadn’t reached his face. Surely, she would fly to Dublin. People loved Dublin. They didn’t know there was anywhere in Ireland but Dublin.
“Shannon. Where are you going?”
“Shannon.” Oh, dear God. Had anyone else heard that? That unmistakable sound of the earth cracking wide open, and laughing?
He certainly wasn’t 2.3 seconds away from a panic attack.
He was fine.
She was fine.
Everything was going to be fine.
No worries!
Even if she was seated beside him, surely, he could change seats. He’d made this trip dozens of times. These flights were never full.
ChapterEight
“I’m sorry,sir. That flight is full.”
Sorry? She was sorry? Did the dingbat even know what she had just said?
He was fine.
He certainly wasn’t having a heart attack or a stroke—no matter how much it felt like he was. Aidan leaned forward with both hands gripping the counter, pleading his case to the young bimbo poorly disguised as an air-headed agent. The next thing he knew the room was spinning.
He closed his eyes and shook his head, then slumped away back to his corner. But it wasn’t his corner. Not anymore. It was Beth’s corner. Sure, she was sharing with him but she was there. In his space. Spilling, crying, and dropping things. Sure, she was sweet, not to mention beautiful, but for God’s sake could she go ten blazing minutes without maiming him or herself?
He rounded the corner and stopped. There she was. Bethany, who most people called Beth, with her peaches-and-cream skin, rosy, heart-shaped lips, bright smile, wide, honey-brown eyes, and hellcat hair that seemed incongruent with her innocent nature. She was staring out the window, clutching her drink. Her pretty face was scared but determined. He turned back for the bar, downed a shot of whiskey, ordered another and downed that too, then headed back to Beth.
So what if he was stuck with her for the twelve hour flight to Ireland? Big deal? How bad it could possibly be? I mean what damage could she do, really, when confined to a seat? In under five seconds he rapidly came up with at least one hundred potential disasters and that clock was still ticking. Images of fire, smoke, blood, and the plane falling from the sky …
