Page 3 of One Little Kiss
I can hear Halton speaking somewhere in my universe, but it’s not registering. Neither is the fact that my feet have stopped moving. My attention is singularly focused on a mass of blonde curls that bounce over delicate shoulders. While my gaze drifts down, my chest constricts as my memory attempts to map out curves that have my hands itching to squeeze them.
What in the fuck is going on with me?
I can’t even shake my attention free from the woman across from me.
“Colton?” Halt tries again.
“Ah, shit. Sorry. Gotta go.”
Cramming the phone into my back pocket, I’m suddenly aware of disgruntled passengers walking around me. No doubt pissed off that I stopped moving in the middle of a busy airport terminal where everyone is in a rush to get somewhere. However, I can’t take my eyes off the pixie of a woman holding my gaze captive.
The thing is, she hasn’t even noticed me. Her face is an expression of determination as she stares into a book with her pen flicking the top at a nervous pace. My feet move closer to her, but she still doesn’t glance up.Does she not feel this magnetic pull? Is she not aware of the visceral reaction her movements cause?When she frowns at the book in her hand, something lances my chest.
Shuffling to the side, I lean against an airport column to watch her in a completely stalkerish way, but I can’t help myself. For the first time in my life, I don’t feel in control of my body. Her attention never wavers from what she’s reading and I’m beyond fascinated, but can’t force myself to talk to her. Not with GG’s words about Wendy and matchmaking on my mind.
Instead of hitting on this poor girl, I shake off the strange reaction. With great effort, I force all thoughts of her out of my head. The WB Group pays a membership fee for a private lounge at all major airports. It’s generally reserved for celebrities, but we offer it as a perk for our top executives since we traditionally fly private. Today, I’m thankful for the space and the quiet it will afford me.
I last a total of twenty minutes before I push through the exit doors of the VIP lounge. The pop starlet and her entourage taking up one half of the private lounge have nothing on my mystery woman. Nearing gate twenty-two, I slow my pace and scan the now empty terminal.
Shit.
Raking a hand through my hair, I try to brush aside the uncomfortable pang that hits my chest.
She’s gone.
It’s for the best. That’s what I tell myself anyway as I head to the bar for a beer. My flight leaves in an hour. I have plenty of time to blow off some steam. Plus, there’s a four-hour layover in Miami. I might as well settle in for a long ass day.
* * *
We touch down in Miami, and the entire plane breaks out in applause. I admit, the pilot deserves it, but the meaty paw of my seatmate clawing into my forearm has me hanging by a thread. You’d think the thunderstorm that caused turbulence would be the reason for my irritated state. But you’d be wrong.
What has me on the verge of an outburst is Jerry, who ate and spat Cheetos in my face the entire flight. I heard him berating the attendant before we took off, and he eventually bullied his way into a free upgrade. Right next to me.
I don’t care what it costs. I’m buying the seat beside me for the next leg of this trip.
Jerry’s squeals have finally stopped, and he releases me. I cringe when I glance down and find a Cheetos orange handprint on my six-thousand-dollar suit.
Listen, I’m not usually a jackoff. I know things can be cleaned and replaced, but it’s this asshole’s entitlement and his mistreatment of the staff that has me growling my displeasure.
“Get. Up.” He has the gall to look offended, but does as I ask. Glowering, I shuffle into the aisle ahead of him.
I find Joanna, our flight attendant, and I apologize on Jerry’s behalf while exiting the plane. She’s an older woman with a warm smile. She held herself together well, but I could tell Jerry shook her up.
Asshole.
“Joanna? My name is Colton Westbrook. I’d like to apologize for the guy next to me. He was out of line, but I think you handled yourself professionally, and if you’re ever interested in moving to the private sector, my family would be happy to have you.” I smirk at her expression of shock. I can’t help myself. “If you call my assistant on this card, she’ll be happy to give you some information.”
She gasps.
“We keep staff on retainer, but I have a feeling it’s a lot less work.”
Jerry pushes his way past us, and I don’t hide the look of disgust on my face.
Pushing the card into her palm, I smile. “Just think about it. Google The Westbrook Group if you’d like to do your research, but rest assured, you won’t deal with people like him in my family.”
“W-Why?”
Flashing the flirtatious grin I was born with, I shrug. “We were taught to look out for people.” Embarrassed, I glance away. “I heard you mention you’d like to spend more time with your grandchildren. I think we might be able to make that happen. If not, no worries. Have a good day, Miss Joanna.”
