Page 13 of At First Flight
“My wife is not staying in a hostel. Understand?”
“First off, I’m not your wife. Not now. Not ever. Second, I can do whatever I please. Thank you very much. And I don’t know what’s crawled up your ass all of a sudden, but you need to calm down.”
Dean’s frustration swells around us like a bubble ready to burst. It just feeds my anger even more. I’ve had someone telling me what to do for years, and I refuse to stand for it any longer. I’m a viper, ready to strike.
“Lila.”
The gentleness in the way he says my name quells any fury that had been rising, taming me.
“I have to go.” At my raised eyebrows, he continues, “Back to the US. I have… something going on. Someone who needs me right now.”
I flinch slightly, my stomach tumbling as I ignore the disappointment swirling inside. Stupid jealousy rears her snake-covered head despite the fact that I know he was only joking about the marriage. I should be under no delusions, but then that moment in the bathroom lingers in the forefront, making that snake bare its fangs.
Seething for reasons I dare not consider, I tell him, “Okay.”
“Lila, I want you to go to this address,” he says, handing me a business card. “This is the hotel where I’m booked. Stay as long as you want. What’s your last name so I can make sure you’re able to check in?”
Stunned, I stare at him, my mouth hanging open, preparing to catch flies.
“Is this some sort of trick to get me to tell you my full name?”
“Not at all. This is me, trying to make sure you have somewhere safe to stay so I don’t worry about you.”
“Dean, you know the possibility of us ever running into each other again is extremely improbable, right?”
“Fine. I’ll just tell them I have a guest staying with me,” he says, more to himself than to me as he types away on his phone. I thought he’d started to relax, but he grows more harried with each passing second.
“Dean, I can take ca—” He interrupts me with a stern glare, one I’d only ever witnessed before from my father when I was in trouble. Only through Dean’s gaze is that something darkand provocative. It makes me curious about what would happen if I defied him.
“Now, I want you to take this card. It’s got no limit, so buy whatever you want.”
He holds out a shiny black card between his fingers, and as if fearing it may bite, I take a quick step back.
“No.”
“Damn, woman. You have no money in a foreign country. Let me do this for you, please.”
“What if I max out the card?”
I’d hoped for a snicker, the briefest of chuckles, but I’m left unrewarded. His eyes hold none of the warmth from earlier. Now they’re glassy with bottled-up emotions. Whatever news he’s received leaves his hands shaking and breath unsteady. I wish I could make him tell me whatever, or whoever has happened, just to ease some of the pain the same way he has for me. Carry some of his burden.
“That’s impossible. There’s no limit.”
No limit?I never really thought that was a possibility unless…
“Who are you?” I murmur.
“Someone who is just trying to do the right thing for once in my life. Please let me help you.”
My gaze darts up and down between him and the card until a shrill ring sounds from his phone. He growls into the microphone that he’ll be there in ten minutes, and I wonder how he is able to secure a flight so quickly.
Ending the call, he not so gracefully grabs my hand and shoves the card into my palm before forcing my fingers to close around it.
His hand lifts, still unsteady, and brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The backs of his fingers trail gently down the curve of my cheek, a touch so tender it steals the breath from my lungs.
“I have to go,” he murmurs, voice low and thick. “Thank you, Lila.”
He steps back, and something in my chest pulls with him.
