Page 21 of Silver Fox Puck

I huff, stacking napkins with way too much force. "It was just one night."

"A good night?"

I don’t answer.

Her smirk deepens. "I knew it."

I groan, shoving the stack of napkins into the cart. "It doesn’t matter. It’s done. I’m over it."

Talia raises a skeptical brow.

And the worst part?

I don’t even believe myself.

By the time we’re cruising at 35,000 feet, I’ve thrown myself into my usual distractions.

Flirting with passengers? Done. The guy in 14C, a businessman with an expensive watch and an obvious wedding ring tan, has been enjoying my best customer service smile all flight. Not that I’m actually interested.

Inventing dramatic backstories for random travelers? Also done. Talia and I have already decided that 8A is a retired jewel thief and 22F is on the run from an ex-husband who happens to be an arms dealer.

Normally, these things keep my mind busy.

Today?

They’re not working.

Because no matter how much I throw myself into the usual routine, I still feel him.

Silver Fox.

I scowl as I refill a coffee cup, barely catching myself before I overflow it.

God, what is wrong with me?

I don’t do this. I don’t replay moments. I don’t analyze glances or hear someone’s voice in my head like some lovesick idiot.

I don’t get stuck.

And yet…

The second I pause, even for a breath, he’s there.

The rough scrape of his stubble against my neck. The delicious weight of his body pressing me into the mattress. The way his voice dropped when he murmured, “Still sure about this?”

A shiver works its way up my spine before I snap myself out of it.

No. Nope. We are not doing this.

I force a breath as I head back to the galley.

Talia is already watching me when I step inside, leaning against the counter with an amused look.

Damn it.

"I was right," she announces smugly.

I grab a water bottle and take an aggressive sip. "About what?"

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