Page 3 of Hostile for the Holidays

“This has been a super fun reunion, but I’d like to get to my seat so if you could move it along.”

“My seat is right there.” He points in front of me to row thirty-three where next to an older gentleman, there are two unoccupied seats.

All the color drains from my face.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He shows me his phone. Thirty-three D. He has the seat next to mine.

How is that possible? Of all the airports in the city, of all the flights and seat assignments, how the hell did I end up next to Jasper Jensen on this four-plus-hour flight?

A flight attendant wearing a reindeer antler headband with red and green jingle bells and a cheery smile approaches us. “Please find your seat so passengers behind you can pass by.”

Jasper motions for me to claim my middle seat but I’m not ready to give in that easily.

I ignore him and turn my attention to the flight attendant. “About the seat situation, is there a chance I could move to an empty seat?”

“I believe it’s a completely full flight, so I’m afraid all the seats are taken.”

“Maybe I could switch with someone? Anyone?” I plead, looking around me, but nobody wants a middle seat toward the back of the plane.

She gives me a placating smile, then motions for me to take my seat.

“Fine,” I growl, defeated. I don’t plan to talk to him anyways. I’ll put on my headphones and listen to one of my friend Pippa’s romance novels on audiobook.

Jasper has already placed his carry-on overhead, and is waiting in the aisle for me. I attempt to shove my carry-on suitcase under the seat, but the flight attendant stops me.

“Miss, that will have to go overhead.”

“Sure. No problem.” That’s what I say, but I know lifting this overloaded carry-on is going to be a challenge. Lift with the legs, engage the core. The suitcase doesn’t make it past my knees. It’s clear from this demonstration of my weak muscles that I need to start working out.

“If it’s oversized, we’ll need to check it,” the flight attendant warns me, the bells on her headband jingling ominously with the shake of her head.

“I—” I start to protest because this suitcase is important. It’s got all the new design concepts I’ve been working on as well as my sketch book, presents for my family, and my bridesmaid dress.

“We’ll make it fit.” That’s Jasper as he easily lifts it above our heads and into place in the overhead bin. I’m a statue as his body curves over mine, his broad chest and that gawdy sweater of his brushing against my back. I get a whiff of his cologne and damnit, he smells great, too. Meanwhile, my deodorant-less armpits are dripping sweat.

Jasper winks at the flight attendant and she blushes.

“Get a room,” I hiss when she’s gone, then take the middle seat.

“I was being nice,” he says, dropping into the seat next to mine.

“You were flirting while she’s trying to work.”

“Do you even know what flirting looks like?” he asks.

“Excuse me?” I scoff. The comment feels like a direct dig at my relationship status. That being single and alone and most likely to be eaten by my cats if I had cats. Which is why I will not be adopting any cats, for any reason, ever. “I have plenty of experience with flirting and men flirting with me.”

“Sure.” He nods. He’s agreeing with me but it’s his tone that gets to me. It’s the one that tells me he’s placating me, which from Jasper is like putting a match to gasoline. It’s what Jasper does. He riles me up then brushes off a conversation that I was winning as not a big deal. Well, it’s a big deal to me.

“For your information, I am a prolific dater. I have been on plenty of dates with highly desirable suitors.” I push my leather travel bag under the seat in front of me and buckle my seatbelt.

“Yeah?” His brows lift, and it’s unfair how attractive he looks making that quizzical face. “Are you currently in a relationship?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I haven’t found the right guy to commit to.”

“And these dates you’ve been on, how many of them were second dates?” he asks.

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