Page 3 of Rulebreaker
She smiles at me, tosses her hair—bright and bubbly all over again. “Just take care of it Erin, yeah? Within the next couple of hours.”
Then she’s tapping at her phone’s screen, letting her hand with it held tight in its grasp fall to her side. “Easy on the scowling, big guy,” she says lightly, her smile widening. “Otherwise your face may stay like that.”
“I—”
That’s so far from what I was expecting her to say that I fumble for a second.
Hell, who am I kidding?
I’m always fumbling over myself with this woman.
Stammering. Dropping shit. Running into things.
It’s so beyond fucking pathetic that I almost let her slip by me. Except…she has a problem.
And if there’s anything I’m good at, it’s fixing things.
I catch her arm as she starts to brush by me. “What’s wrong?”
A tug, trying to free herself from my grip. But I can’t seem to let her go.
“What does Erin need to fix?”
Her brows drag together and I want to kiss the befuddlement off her face.
But…something to fix, some way for me to stop feeling like an idiot with this woman.
“Lily,” I warn.
She jerks slightly, her startling blue eyes locking on mine, and she doesn’t fight me for once, just says, “My charter to Denver fell through. I’m supposed to leave tonight for the next leg of my tour, and my assistant has supposedly looked into every option…and landed with me taking a commercial flight.”
My eyebrows fly up.
“I’m not trying to be a diva,” she says quietly.
“You being on a commercial flight right now is stupid,” I mutter. “At best you’ll be mobbed. At worst things could get scary quickly.”
She nibbles at her red-painted lips. “I know.” A shrug, then the worry is wiped clear of her face. “It’ll be fine. Erin will take care of it.”
“Come with me,” I blurt.
Confusion in blue eyes. “Um…where are we going, big guy?”
“I can give you a ride on my private jet,” I say in a rush. “I was heading to Denver tomorrow, anyway.” A lie, but not a huge one. I need to check in with the office there. It just wasn’t at the top of mypriority list.
“You were?” Her brow furrows.
“I have an office there.”
Her face relaxes. “I can’t ask you to?—”
“It’s not asking. I’m offering. I have a jet, Lily.” I glance at my watch. “I’ll make a call, have it ready by ten. Does that give you enough time?”
“Atlas,” she begins, and the protest hasn’t left her tone.
“It’s heading that direction,” I say, grasping at straws, unable to let this go. “God knows the environment would prefer if someone more than me was on it.”
“So, you’re saying we should carpool to minimize our carbon footprint?”
