Page 3 of Knot His Omega
Bloody hell.
I’m a mess.
“Mr. Abernathy?” A hand touches my shoulder, and I start as my head whips around.
The flight attendant holds up her hands. “I’m sorry. I was calling you, but you weren’t responding, but I didn’t think you were sleeping.”
“No. Not sleeping—just lost in my head. I’m sorry.”
“That happens. No need to apologize. Would you like something to drink or a snack? We’ll be serving dinner in about two hours, but I just want to make sure you’re comfortable until then.”
“Uh…” My mind goes completely blank, and while I understand what she’s asking, it’s not processing.
Like I said, I’m a mess.
She offers me a soft smile. “Why don’t I check with the others, and then I’ll come back to you?”
I sigh. “Aye, that’s probably a good idea.”
She nods, gesturing toward the seat pocket in front of me. “There’s a menu there. You can look it over to decide what you’d like.”
“Thank you.” I try to offer her a smile, but I’m not sure if it works.
As she walks away, I grab the menu from the pocket and look it over. There’s a large selection of alcohol, and I’m seriously considering getting something—even though I know how much worse alcohol can affect the way I’m feeling right now.
I wish I could turn off the psychologist side of myself at times like this. I just want to forget about the hell I’m heading toward right now.
But that’s not going to happen, no matter how much I drink, so when the attendant comes back, I order a soda and a small snack.
Knowing I’ll need to open my tray anyway, I pull out my laptop and get it set up.
Of course, as soon as it opens, it needs to run an update, but by the time the attendant returns with my drink and snack, it’s booting back up.
“Thank you…” I trail off, realizing I never bothered to get her name. “I’m sorry. My head is kind of all over the place. What was your name?”
She offers me another soft smile. “It’s Tabatha, Mr. Abernathy. I’ll be with you the whole flight, so if you need anything, just let me know. You can press that button right there if I’m not in the cabin.”
I glance down at the button on the armrest and nod. “Thank you, Tabatha. I appreciate you. I’ll let you know if there’s anything else I need.”
Her smile grows, lighting up her face, and I realize she’s very pretty. Her blonde hair is up in a ponytail, and her makeup accentuates her bright blue eyes. In another time, Imight have flirted with her, but today, I’m not feeling much up for flirting.
It’s likely the accent. My brogue seems to drive Americans crazy.
I catch just a hint of her scent—coconut and something floral—that tells me she’s a beta.
We’re required to douse ourselves in descenting products before entering the airport, and the air filtration systems on airplanes are fairly effective—especially when adding in the scent cancelers it blows into the cabin. It’s the only way for everyone to be safe while flying.
I turn back to my laptop as she stands there for another moment before walking away. I think she was hoping I’d flirt with her.
Sorry, Tabatha. It’s just the wrong day for that.
Since I don’t really feel like dealing with anyone else, I recline my chair and lower the top until I’m mostly enclosed in the pod-like seat. First class always has these seats, no matter how long the flight is, but I know back in coach, all the seats are pods as well for long, international flights.
I start scrolling through the internet, catching up on the last few weeks of news.
I’m surprised at how many mentions there are ofHeated.My name and picture are all over the internet, and I wonder if Tabatha recognized me. Is that why she was so happy to talk to me?
Bloody hell. I did not sign up for this kind of attention.
