Page 28 of Arse Over Irish Teacup
She took a long breath and slowed down. “I guess so. I didn’t know I thought those things.” Beth was drunk all right. She wasn’t slurring but her thoughts and words had loosened up. “I should know better by now. But I don’t. Know why?” Beth waited for Aidan to shake his head before continuing. “Because I trust people. Well, not anymore! You’re looking at a newly reformed trustee.” No, that wasn’t the word. “Trusteder? Truster?”
“Maybe you should try kissing a frog.”
“Don’t think I haven’t considered it,” she said with a giggle. Although she hadn’t given up hope of finding her Prince Charming, she was thirty-seven and had dated every eligible bachelor, and that one time by accident one not so eligible, in town. She would have to move to frogs. Pfft, and even if she found a nice guy, he probably wouldn’t want her. She was always being accused of being too nice. “Aidan, why do men seem to want the mean girls?”
That was a rhetorical question. Beth was clearly on a tangent.
“I don’t understand it. Why would I want to manipulate the man I share a profound connection with?”
Beth thought being in love meant having a profound connection with someone. Aidan had believed that once upon a time too …
She looked away to the couple across the aisle. They were holding hands and watching two different movies. “You know, the kind of love that can’t always be explained but you love each other just because.” She looked back at Aidan, meeting his eyes. “Is there something wrong with that?”
Aidan practically sighed like a girl swooning over Elvis Presley. “No. No there isn’t.” His eyes drifted to the closed window shade. He looked at the time on his watch. The sun would be setting. “Mind if I open the shade?”
Although the thought made her nervous, Beth nodded her head.
Aidan couldn’t have been more pleased. Outside, the setting sun illuminated the billowing clouds with brilliant shades of orange, purple and pink.
Calm now and unafraid, Beth stared out the window, hypnotized by the brilliant display of nature. Then she looked back at Aidan, who was leaning forward and stared into his eyes for a leisurely moment. Just stared. There was something about him … What she didn’t notice was him staring back.
Then Beth blinked, breaking the spell, and flipped her hand, accidentally whacking Aidan’s forearm. “It’s okay. I don’t need a boyfriend, or a husband to make me happy. But it would be nice maybe to find a nice guy.” She’d used the word nice too much but no matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn’t come up with another word.
“One of those rare good ones?”
She nodded. “You wouldn’t happen to know one, would you?”
“I used to know one but he’s not around anymore.” That was about enough of that. New topic please!
Since Beth showed no sign of stopping and Aidan desperately wanted to change the subject, he suggested they play one of the onboard games. That was innocent enough and a simple, friendly game would pass the time.
After an hour of playing not so simple and friendly trivia, Aidan had lost every round, except one. He hadn’t let her win. He didn’t need to. As it turned out, Beth was a smart cookie. She was also a closet ruthless cutthroat who was so immersed in the game that when the announcement about turbulence ahead came, she hadn’t worried for a moment.
“I’ve got bad news, Sweetums. Your walking Tupperware party of a girlfriend died of humiliation watching you lose to me.”
“You know, you’re awfully competitive!”
“You’re observant. Now, are you going to play or do you want to do each other's nails instead?”
Oh, baby. Having their seatbelts on during turbulence turned out to be crucial. Not because of the plane shaking but because he felt the urge to dive across the seat and kiss her.
Stop it!
ChapterThirteen
Beth emergedfrom the bathroom with her shirt splotchy and wet, her hair disheveled, and her eyes red. All that was missing was blood and maybe a few bruises. Exactly how could she have gone into the bathroom looking perfect and come out looking like she had gone a round with a fire hose? Aidan couldn’t help but ask.
Beth started by describing having to be a contortionist just to close the bathroom door, then she stubbed her toe when she lifted the lid to the toilet—the loud sucking noise startled her—then she tripped when getting her pants pulled up, and?—
“And the dish ran away with the spoon.”
“Then that foamy soap splattered all over my shirt when I washed my hands so I washed it off.”
“And then you ended up looking like you flushed yourself down the toilet.”
Beth nodded. “I had a brief conversation with your girlfriend too.”
Oh brother. “Go on.”
