Chapter Thirteen
Lyndsey
I’m a professional airport goer. If I could profit from it I’d be up there in the hottest billionaire lists.
I was prepared with my slip-on shoes for security, all of my electronics near the top of my bag for easy access, all for Aiden to swoop in and take us through premium security and straight to a VIP lounge.
Who would I be if I squandered that opportunity?
VIP lounges aren’t my usual scene, surprise to no one, but I could get used to this.
Being fake married to a hockey star is starting to have its perks.
Aiden is sat in some comfortable-looking recliner as I explore; he trusts me more than he probably should because I have already stuffed three cookies into my carry-on in case I get peckish on the plane.
Now I’m making myself a quinoa bowl and a cocktail while we wait for boarding to open.
We must be compatible in some ways, because Aiden seemed just as eager as me to get to the airport early.
I’m an arrive three hours before the flight type of person, who ignores anyone who tries to tell me it’s pointless.
Aiden, for once, didn’t disagree. He picked me up in an Uber with enough time to kill that I can explore the lounge to the fullest extent.
It never occurred to me how people dress when they aren’t flying in economy.
These business- and first-class folks are in a different realm to me.
I saw a woman in heels – heels – at the airport.
It is some unwritten law that airplane shoes should be comfortable, have room for expansion in the air and be easy to run in, in case of emergency.
Apparently, that isn’t some universal law, just a personal one.
For my personal flying style, it is either a lounge co-ord or, like today, it’s leggings with a vest and a beige button-up cardigan over the top.
Aiden has joined me in the comfort-over-style approach by wearing sweatpants with a T-shirt, so I don’t feel completely out of place.
If he had shown up like the man snoring next to him, in a suit with a damn tie, I might have died of embarrassment and run back up to my apartment to change.
“Darlin’, you know they serve food on the plane, right?” Aiden’s voice startles me as I slip another cookie into my bag.
“Shit, cowboy, you trying to give me a heart attack?” I turn to slap his arm, but he is closer than I expected.
Aiden looms over me, eyes scanning from head to toe, he is so close the scent that rings completely true to him permeates my personal bubble.
My hand is still swinging though, hitting him in the ribs instead of his bicep. He wheezes out a breath.
“Lynds, how many cookies have you got there?” He tries to peek into my bag but I pull it tight to my side avoiding his grey-eyed gaze.
“Look, I have to make the most of being a WAG while I can, this is one of the only perks so far.” I shoulder past him as I talk, shaking the food container in my hands to mix the quinoa and salad to distract myself while his eyes burn into the back of my head.
Until his hand shoots out to grab my elbow to pull my back against his chest.
“I can think of a few more perks for you.” His southern drawl whispered against the shell of my ear sends chills down to my toes. I’m glad for the cardigan as it hides the goosebumps that raise over my arms.
“You’ll have to find someone else to join the mile-high club with, husband,” I tease, falling into his chest further.
His hand slips from my elbow to my wrist and up again, pulling the fabric with it.
The contrast between his tanned and tatted skin and my pale freckled arms looks like something from an editorial magazine cover.
The bright lights make my skin appear even brighter and paler and make his tattoos look almost alive.
The snake wrapped around his forearm almost slithers as his muscles ripple as he massages my arms.
“This marriage might not have been completely intentional, but does that mean we’re never going to consummate it?” In an instant his hands dart out and snatch the food from me before he pulls away and slinks back over to the recliner, digging into my lunch.
“In your dreams.” I flop onto the chair facing him, trying to appear annoyed but, more than that, I’m trying to disguise the blush covering me as anger rather than the truth that he affects me more than I wish he did.
The little asshole just keeps eating, only sending a wink my way before moaning around a fork full of the food I made myself.
“What happened to the food on the plane you told me about, you thief?” I huff.
“What? I just wanted a meal made by my lovely wife, that’s not a crime.” His smile is sickly-sweet, his lashes bat against his cheeks too and if it wasn’t for the piece of lettuce stuck to his teeth I would have melted.
“No, but murder is, and I’m getting hangry.” I try to appear serious, but judging by his unaffected expression, I know he sees right through me. That is one of the things that is scaring me so much about this trip. With Aiden, I don’t have anywhere to hide.
“Why don’t you eat a cookie?” He points my fork at my bag and if I wasn’t so hungry I’d have thrown one at him in spite.
I pull one out and start to chew almost violently.
He laughs in response. Smug. But for all his annoyances and marriage grief he has caused me, I don’t hate his laugh.
I wish I did. It would make my life so much simpler if he were a troll who snorts when he laughs and spits when he talks, but just my luck that I ended up married to a nearly perfect specimen, when I didn’t want to be married at all.
“Dick,” I mumble around a mouthful of white chocolate and strawberry crumble cookie.
“I’m not putting that in your mouth here, Lynds.” He leans forward in his chair and stage-whispers as though the woman at the table behind him didn’t stiffen at his words. I watch over his sandy hair as she reddens and untucks the hair from behind her ear to hide behind.
I shoot a glance around the room, wondering how many others must have heard every word.
When I’m by his side, I forget that others exist until that illusion is broken.
I know he’s teasing me, he can’t help himself apparently.
Even when he needs me to be his fake wife, to do him a favour, he wants to get under my skin.
To everyone around us, he is a husband teasing his wife as they get ready to go on their honeymoon, at least that is what I would think as an outsider looking in.
I roll my eyes at him, reaching into my bag again, this time pulling out my trusty neck pillow.
“It’s only a three-hour flight, that might be a bit unnecessary, darlin’.” His words are laced with lingering humour and without even looking up I know his lips will be pulled up into a smirk.
“Well, when I found out you don’t have a private jet I had to prepare for the worst.” I smile over as I wrap the pillow around the back of my neck.
“You wound me.” His hand flies to his chest, those southern dramatics are no joke. Then again that might just be Aiden, he never gets to be this laid-back on the ice so he must be overcompensating.
“Do you even fit in a plane seat?” I ask, flicking my hand in his general direction.
His legs are out straight in front of him, crossed at the ankle: it is a reminder of how big he really is.
When he is around other players, they all even each other out and make it seem normal, but each of them are over six foot tall – in the eyes of the rest of the world they barely fit.
“No, that’s why we are flying business, extra legroom. Need room to move and to cuddle in case the need arises.” He has the nerve to wiggle his eyebrows at me but before I can think of a barb to throw back my phone vibrates on my lap.
Kayla has been texting me on and off since I got back to Seattle, but even more so since articles went live about my and Aiden’s nuptials.
When I didn’t pick up any of her calls she turned up at Bloom and Blossom.
Luckily I was out that day doing a delivery for a wedding.
As soon as she left, Ellis called me and filled me in.
Apparently Kayla only wanted to give me her congratulations, she told Ellis how happy she was for me.
I don’t know if I believe it but her texts stopped after that.
Well, I thought they had. This morning I woke up to a text from a number I didn’t recognise.
Your secret won’t be a secret for long. Your husband will know.
It’s the most literate text she has sent in a while, maybe ever.
Hopefully if she can stay sober for a few days for a change, she will realise that sending baseless threats isn’t worth it.
I don’t even know what secret she is talking about.
We weren’t together long enough for her to know about my childhood, never mind any deep-seated secrets I have.
There are a few things I wouldn’t want Aiden to know about me but that text makes it seem like she knows something big.
I decide to just delete the text and block the number.
I have enough on my plate right now. Right as I slip my phone away our flight announcement comes over the speaker that it is time to board.
Aiden walks over to my chair and offers me his hand to help me up, what a gentleman.
Then to prove that even more he takes my bag from where it sits between us and swings it over his shoulder without a word.
Just as I go to slip my phone into my pocket it vibrates again.
You can hide for now, but not forever.