Page 3 of Christmas in Coconut Creek

“And what’s the problem with the military?” He shoved his bag into the open storage and immediately dodged a snow boot cascading toward his head and into the aisle. “—the fuck?”

“Sorry.” I reached down to pick up the boot off the carpet. “How long were you standing there?”

“Long enough to be both insulted and then eye-fucked—so approximately five seconds.”

“I did noteye-fuckyou,” I argued weakly, holding the lone boot out to him and nodding up toward the storage container. His thick eyebrows knitted together but he took it anyway, stuffing it back in the compartment.

“What exactly would you call it then?”

“I don’t know, the female gaze.”

“Poetic.” He looked unimpressed.

“Thank you.”

“You could just say you were looking at my dick.”

I rolled my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. Was there a way to retract inside one's own asshole?

“It’s fine,” he assured me. “I did it too.”

“You looked at my dick?”

Frankie coughed out a laugh and looked around as a man shimmied behind him and further down the aisle. “I’m more of an ass man, to be honest.”

“Poetic,” I mimicked.

“It must be my male gaze acting up again.”

I snorted, hiding a smile by staring at my lap.

The intercom crackled to life and a flight attendant introduced himself, asking everyone to be seated and buckled before the aircraft made its way to the runway. Another woman squeezed her way behind Frankie and gave him a less-than-impressed side-eye.

“Are you planning on standing for the duration of the flight? Are you one of those rule-breaking flyers that get up and use the bathroom when the seatbelt signs are on?”

“Oh yeah, it’s just… You’re sitting in my seat actually, so…”

I looked down and saw my ass was indeed incorrectly placed in the middle chair of the row, and it clicked to me that hedid, in fact, put all of his belongings in the overhead right above the seats.

“Well, it’s not likely a third person is coming to sit with us, so you don’t have to sithere. You can take the aisle.”

“Actually, as an avid rule-followingflier,I’ll have to stick with the assigned seat printed right here”—he pulled his ticket out of his back pocket and showed it to me—“on this ticket.”

He was screwing with me. Bastard. I tried to call his bluff by staying put, but Frankie just raised an expectant eyebrow at me with a grin.

“Well played,” I humored him as I scooted across the divide back to the window seat. He slid in next to me, stretching his back against the leather and pushing his legs out as far as he could in front of him. And goddamnit, he was huge. His left knee tipped across the invisible line between our two spaces with how wide he was spread.

“I should let you know, then, that I keep the reading light on the whole flight.”

“Perfect.” He nodded. “Because I play Candy Crush with the volume on. Helps keep me focused.”

Well fuck—it was going to be a long three-and-a-half hours.

2

Thecabinlightsdimmedas the plane cruised at altitude and attendants made their way slowly from front to back of the plane with refreshments. I wasn't sure how many passive aggressive elbow nudges over the shared armrest were too many before it was a lost cause, but either the man sitting next to me was enjoying getting under my skin a little too much, or he was in fact completely numb from the bicep down.

Just as I was about to surrender and stick my first earbud in, Frankie leaned over.

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