Page 7 of Butterfly

“There was a donkey with a bad infection on his leg. Tyler told me to check on him, but he didn’t tell me to go right away. I could’ve gone in the morning.” I wave a hand. “We’re all veterinary doctors. That’s why we came here.”

He frowns, and a lock of hair falls over his face. Thank goodness I’m not one of those women who swoon over a hot guy. I’d be a mess by now. Nope. I’m cut from a different—Geez, that sexy cleft chin.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“We joined a programme of volunteers to help the locals vaccinate their cows and sheep and attend to their pets as well. Tua Island might have a five-star hotel and be perfect for a movie set, but many people don’t have basic necessities, including vaccinations for their animals. It might seem superfluous, but when a family depends on farm animals, vaccinations are important, or the animals—” I pause the word vomit. “Sorry. Got carried away.”

“I get your point, and it doesn’t seem superfluous at all.” A dimple, only one, appears on his left cheek as the corners of his mouth curl up. “What you and your friends do is impressive.”

I refuse to acknowledge the flutter again. Or the heat spreading through my face. He’s an actor, and a good one at that. He can make me believe anything he wants, and I can’t trust my body’s reactions at the moment. Too much caffeine and paracetamol. Likely, escorting me to the plane is going to be the source of a lot of free publicity for him. Mr Knightley behaved like a noble knight. Or some nonsense like that.

“It’s less exciting than it sounds,” I say. “Just lots of injections, dung, and chasing sheep up steep paths while avoiding being hit by an angry billy goat. Mosquitoes and cockroaches aren’t my friends, either.”

A chuckle rumbles out of him, and I can’t stop smiling.

“Anyway,” I continue, “Tyler and Jack were at the hostel when I left to check on the donkey. Then the storm hit, and there was the blast.” The interior of the plane comes into view as I lean against him. “The pain came later though. I stayed in the stable with the donkey until the worst of the storm passed. Lovely animal, by the way. Very gentle. Tyler and Jack were going crazy with worry.”

“I can imagine.”

“Welcome aboard,” a flight attendant says as we brush past her. “Do you need help to find your seats?” Her face brightens when she stares at him.

“No, thank you.” Alex leads me towards the end of the aisle where a few large armchairs—no, they aren’t just seats—covered in a plush blue fabric take up the whole space. Panels and curtains cover them, guaranteeing privacy. As we move on, he presses me against his body, so we fit in the narrow walkway.

“Which one do you prefer?” he asks, stopping in front of two armchairs. “Window or aisle?”

“Aisle. So I won’t disturb you when I need the loo.”

“Not a problem. I want you to tell me if you need help.” He stows my bag in the overhead bin.

“That won’t be necessary.” My cheeks are frying so much they could cook an egg. Accepting his help to limp here is one thing, but asking him to escort me to the loo every time I need it is quite another. I sit on the armchair and let out a sigh, relaxing my muscles. The cushion is even softer than that of my armchair at home.

He sits next to me and pulls down the privacy panel separating him from me. “I’m serious. If you need help, just tell me.”

Not going to happen. But I give him a non-committal smile in reply. My leg hurts, but I can walk. Besides, I’ll be alone at home and have to do everything by myself. Better to get used to it.

I lean over the armrest and peer in the aisle as passengers pour into the aircraft. Tyler and Jack must be all the way down. I can’t believe they spent fifteen thousand pounds on giving me this seat, although I sigh in relief when I stretch my leg.

As the plane fills and the attendants prepare the passengers for the take-off, I pull out the screen from the armrest and browse the TV channels. Duh. Alex’s films are all there, fromThe Three Musketeersto his most recentNo Time to LoveJames Bond adventure. I peep at him. He’s focused on his phone while I think about the terrible crush I had on him after I watched him as D’Artagnan. Long hair suits him. When the film was released, I had to sneak out of my foster parents’ house to watch it, risking a beating, but it was worth it. A little shiver crawls up my neck as my late foster father’s face flashes across my mind. That sneer that made my mouth sour with fear taunts me. Don’t think about him.

I recline my head and focus on the surgeries scheduled for the next week at the clinic. The golden retriever’s dental? Oh, right. I might not be able to work, not if my hand is still useless. Lord, Tyler will relegate me to desk work until I’m healed. A yawn escapes me as I lounge on the armchair.

I must have dozed off because when I open my eyes, we’re flying, and the night lights blink in the aisle.

“Sienna?” Alex inches closer, concern drawing his eyebrows together.

For a split second, a shock of stillness goes through me upon seeing him. What the heck? Alex Knight—oh, right. The island, the plane, me nearly dying.

“Are you all right?” he asks. “You were talking in your sleep.”

Bother. “Have I slept long?”

“An hour.” His forehead doesn’t smooth as his soul-searching stare roams over me.

I push aside the fluffy blanket and stand up. “I need the loo.”

“Wait.” Still scowling at me, as if I offended him, he rises from his seat and coils an arm around my waist before I can say anything. The top of his head skims the ceiling, and the sheer size of his body makes the plane look tiny. It’s like someone crammed a G. I. Joe action figure into a Barbie doll’s house.

The weight of his arm feels strangely familiar around me, but when his hand brushes my back, I stiffen, and a choking sensation grips my throat. Not my back. Although there isn’t a chance he can feel the scars on my skin. The top I’m wearing under the blouse should offer a decent barrier between my scarred back and his hand.

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