Page 108 of Fourth Point Of Contact

“What can I get you?”

“Liquid courage.”

He smirked slightly, grabbing a shot glass for me. “Not a flier?”

As he slid the drink in front of me, I tossed it back, wincing at the burn. “I jumped out of the last plane I was on, so…not really.”

“Jumped out of a plane, huh? That’s pretty impressive.”

“It was either that or go down in flames.”

“And you’re getting on another flight?”

I tapped the bar and waited for him to pour me another shot. Then I drank it down and let the alcohol run through myveins. “It’s a desperate situation. I’m needed to ward off a pushy mother.”

“Wow. You’re running in to save the day. That’s kinda hot.”

“Only if I can manage to not throw up on his mother.”

“Ah,his. Boyfriend? Lover?”

I shook my head, sighing as I felt the alcohol tingling in my body. “Just a friend.”

“Hmm. Seems like an awfully rough trip for a friend.”

“Well, I jumped out of the plane with him, so…”

“So, what?”

“So, going to visit him and fight off his mother hardly seems like a challenge.”

“If only you could get on the plane without having a major anxiety attack,” he teased.

I cocked my head to the side as I studied the man. He seemed awfully good-looking for a bartender. Then again, I saw men from romance novels wherever I went.

“You don’t happen to be a bartender who moonlights as a teacher, do you?”

“Uh…” He let out a throaty chuckle that I felt all the way in my lady parts. I really needed to stop reading so many romance novels. “Actually, I’m in flight school.”

I grimaced at his hateful words. “You know, I think I’ll take my drink to go.”

“Turned you off, huh?”

“The moment you said flight.” I sighed, resting my chin in my hand as he poured me a drink to go. “You know, it’s a shame. We could have made beautiful babies.”

I tossed some money on the counter as he handed over my drink. “I put a splash of vodka in that for you,” he said with a wink.

“Thanks.” I held up the cup. “To what could have been.”

I stumbled off my chair, surprised the alcohol had hit me so hard already. Then again, I’d done two shots when I normally stuck with wine. Plus, the anxiety of the flight was getting to me. I slouched down in my chair at the gate, careful to keep my wits about me enough to keep my luggage close by. Sliding my sunglasses down over my eyes, I watched everyone carefully, feeling like they were all glaring at me.

I was pretty sure they weren’t, but now that the alcohol hit, I was starting to think of scenarios in which the flight might go down. And most of those included terrorists, angry wives who’d had enough of men and wanted to rid the world of them, and demon children who were sent from hell to destroy everything good.

Okay, my imagination was running wild and the alcohol wasn’t helping, but if it kept my mind off the plane actually crashing, I could handle anything. I sucked down my drink rather quickly, eyeing the bin at the end of the aisle, wondering if I was a good enough shot to get it in. I lined it up and let it loose, eyes widening in horror when I hit the man a seat over with my cup. The lid fell off and spilled ice everywhere. I quickly turned away and scrolled through my phone, pretending it wasn’t me—that I hadn’t just hit an old man with a cup.

I was so going to hell.

I ignored the old man as he looked around for the culprit. My face flamed with heat as I felt his eyes briefly land on me, but then he turned away, grumbling about hating the airport. Why had I decided to come? This trip was going terribly, and I had a feeling it was only going to get worse. By the time they called my boarding group, I was ready for more alcohol, which they thankfully sold on the plane. There was no way I was sitting through takeoff without some more liquid courage.

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