Page 27 of Star Crossed
“It’s for both cars.” Jules grinned. “We appreciate y’all handling it.”
Then she tried very hard not to turn around and look for Romeo once more. She’d been obvious enough the first time. Wyatt walked up next to her to get his ticket processed, and she automatically grabbed Clay’s bags off his right shoulder to give him better freedom to dig out his wallet from his pocket.
Wyatt turned to her as they worked on processing his ticket. “Are the seats in the bulkhead?”
“I dunno. We lost our original flight. I took whatever they had. It’s first-class. You’ll have enough leg room to survive.”
“Didja at least put Clay in the bulkhead?” Wyatt asked, giving her an incredulous look. “If he has to squish up in one of those tiny seats, he’s gonna be an asshole the entire flight home.”
“I don’t know,” Jules repeated slower. “I had them put Clay and Melody together, but that’s all I got. I was doing fourteen things at once while I was changing the flights.”
“Put me in the bulkhead,” Wyatt told the skycap, using his sheriff’s voice that brooked no argument. “Gimme your ticket, Jules. We’ll have him put our seats together and then just trade with Clay and Melody when we get on the plane.”
“Oh my God.” Jules fought once more to open her purse. She pulled out the ticket and handed it to the skycap. “I’m sorry.”
“No problem, ma’am.” The guy gave her another beaming smile. “Make me earn that hundred-dollar tip.”
Wyatt turned and gave her a wide-eyed look as he whispered under his breath, “You gave this boy a hundred bucks?”
“It’s my money; why’d you give a shit?”
Jules knew she was probably embarrassing the skycap but felt too irritated to keep her voice low. Neither she nor Wyatt was soft-spoken. She stepped away from her brother and folded her arms despite three carry-ons and one purse weighing her down.
“Got enough bags?” asked a warm, sexy voice behind her, amusement laced thickly in his New York accent. “Don’t they teach those country boys manners? They got you carrying everything. I guess chivalry’s officially dead.”
Jules turned around, giving Romeo a look of horror. He just smiled in response, bold and cocky as ever. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised. She glanced back to Wyatt, seeing that he had indeed heard Romeo and was now glaring in their direction as he waited for their tickets.
“Wellings,” she said coolly, despite her pulse picking up and her body responding to him being so near. “Strange coincidence running into you.”
“Not that strange. We all got places to be.” He stepped closer, invading her personal space. Jules jumped when Romeo reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it in his larger one. His thumb swept over the top of it as he leaned in and whispered, “If you were on my team, I’d carry all those bags for you.”
Jules jerked her hand out of Romeo’s embrace, turning around to make sure Wyatt hadn’t seen. Feeling very self-conscious, she snapped, “I’m a capable woman. I don’t need anyone to carry my bags for me.”
“Maybe you do, and you just don’t know it yet.” Romeo’s smile grew broader. “You ever think of visiting New York?”
“I’ve been to New York,” Jules said, unable to resist a teasing smirk. “I’m not all that impressed with it.”
Romeo laughed. “That’s ’cause you haven’t seen my New York.”
Wyatt came up before Jules could respond. He handed her the new ticket, saying, “They fixed ’em.” He grabbed Clay’s carry-on off Jules’s left shoulder, all the while glaring at Romeo before he managed a tense greeting. “Wellings.”
“Conner,” Romeo responded, all good humor gone from his voice.
It was an awkward moment. Jules was just pondering how to break away without being too rude to Romeo or too obvious to Wyatt when one of Romeo’s brothers, who lingered near the sliding glass doors, waved him down.
“You coming or what?”
Romeo waved back, looking irritated at his brother before he gave Jules a look: longing, regret, sadness. She wasn’t real sure what it meant, and she didn’t have time to analyze it.
He turned to leave with a clipped, “Later.”
“Okay,” Jules said softly, trying to sort out her own feelings. That seemed like too humble a good-bye for what they’d shared, but she found herself echoing his words. “Later.”
“Gimme Melody’s bag,” Wyatt said after only a few seconds, not bothering to keep his voice down. “Anyone with eyes can see you spend half your life working out. You could walk back on to the Olympic team anytime you wanted to. If he saw you on the mat, he wouldn’t be treating me like a pig for not pampering you.”
“You are a pig,” she said out of habit, the jab lacking any real malice. She stood there feeling sad and lonely while Wyatt pulled Melody’s bag off her arm. More to remind herself than him, she added, “All men are pigs.”
“That ain’t a lie,” Wyatt agreed as he started walking toward the airport entrance. “It kinda looked like Wellings was flirting with you.”
