Chapter 12 Jordan
jordan
Chadd darts his eyes between the two of us, looking more confused than a boomer trying to figure out tap-to-pay.
I have no doubt he’s questioning this—the legitimacy of our confession—but if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s sell a performance.
I inch closer to my scene partner, hoping she can keep up.
And hoping I don’t pass out from the fact that Hotty McPilot is staring next to me in this show.
“How long have you two been together?” Chadd spits.
Kennedy looks to me. “Do you want to tell him, babe?”
Fuck, why is her calling me babe so hot?
“It’s been a couple of months. Our mutual friend, Maggie, lives in the same building as Kennedy and introduced us.
She thought we might hit it off.” I place my arm around the back of her chair, careful not to actually touch her.
Something tells me she could probably go toe-to-toe with me in a fight.
I’d like to keep my face for the moment. “Sure enough, she was right.”
“Are you sure you’re allowed to date one of the players?” he asks with a smug look on his face. Just as I open my mouth to speak, she lays a hand on my chest and shoots me a look that says ‘I’ve got this.’
“Actually, Chadd…I’m allowed to date whoever the hell I want,” she fires back, her voice firm and confident.
Holy fucking fuckballs, Kennedy Kramer is officially the woman of my dreams. “I’m not directly employed by the Riders, which means we’re not technically co-workers.
Not to mention, I fly my friends and family all the time, as I’m sure you do as well.
” She stands and grabs her purse, my chest burning from the imprint of her hand as if she left a brand on my skin.
And now she’s staring Chadd down like a lioness about to devour its prey.
My pulse races, all of it flooding south.
I have never been more turned on in my life.
“But you, Chadd, you are my co-worker. And you’ve been hitting on me, not to mention questioning my ability to do my job, since the minute you stepped into the flight deck,” she snaps before turning her attention to me. “What do you think? Should we report him?”
My pulse races, my muscles tense at the thought of him doubting the talent of the best pilot in the entire fucking world.
This fucker would be worth every second of a ten-minute misconduct.
But I stay focused because…dear God, this is all my dreams come true.
The way she’s playing along. The way she seems like she’s all in.
The way I want to have moments like this forever.
“I one-hundo percent think we should report him. But we’ve been trying to keep this relationship under wraps and away from the paparazzi, so how about you just leave my girlfriend the hell alone and we call it a day. Do we have a deal?”
Chadd’s face turns a deep shade of red, anger and embarrassment shooting from his eyes as he shakes his head, refusing to admit defeat.
Good. Just as he opens his mouth to, no doubt, insult Kennedy again, I step forward to tower over him.
I can’t take this fucker anymore. A warm hand grips my arm, goosebumps pebbling all the way to my fingers.
She’s got to stop touching me so I can concentrate.
“Listen to me, Chadd, with two d’s,” I whisper through the menacing smile I give all my opponents.
“You don’t know me, and you sure as hell don’t know her.
Mind your own damn business. And if you ever talk to her like that again, I will destroy you.
Myself, and the entire team of players at my disposal, will make your life a living hell.
You will never fly for an NHL team again. You got me?”
He grits his teeth staring at us as if fire is about to shoot out his mouth like a dragon, but he doesn’t make a move. Doesn’t say a word. Yet another person speechless at the stellar showmanship of Jordan Joseph Boucher.
Fucking crushed it.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here,” Kennedy whispers as she glides her hand down my arm to grip my hand and drag me away. Like a puppy following its new owner, I fucking follow her. But not before getting in a couple more digs at the douche-nozzle that’s been harassing her.
I blow a kiss over my shoulder. “Bye, Chadd! Hope you’re not mad. If you get sad, go cry to your dad!” I yell as she continues to lead me toward the elevator.
Holy. Fucking. Shit. That was fan-freaking-tastic. And, by some miracle, she’s still holding my hand. I swallow hard, my heart beating in my throat. God, she smells good like vanilla and sugar, and like I want her to be mine forever.
I glance at her through my peripheral vision.
She’s right here. Next to me. Acknowledging me.
Her hand perfectly molded in mine. I flash her a warm smile, hoping she’s feeling what I am.
Feeling this instant, overwhelming need to be together always.
My stomach flips, the world tilting just enough to feel like I’m getting the rom-com moment I’ve always dreamed of when her fiery green eyes meet mine.
DING!
As soon as the elevator doors open, she pulls me inside and hits the button for the twentieth floor. That’s my floor. Oh my God. Does she want to come to my room? My downstairs elevator shaft rises rapidly at the thought. But shit—I’m not ready for…
THUD!
My entire body jolts as the elevator comes to a dramatic stop between floors, and Kennedy Kramer shoves me up against the wall.
Yep. It’s official. The elevator in my pants has achieved liftoff, and the woman pressing into me is going to make it burst right through the ceiling like the end of Willy Wonka.
The way she’s looking at me like she wants to devour me…
“What the fuck did you do back there, Cashanova?!”
I swallow hard, my eyes wide. I’m beginning to think I may have misjudged this. “What are you talking about? I was helping you! Wait…did you just call me Cashanova?”
“Yes, you jerk. I didn’t fucking need you and your rich boy ass helping me. Now you’ve made things a million times worse!” she yells as she steps back and flicks me with her finger.
I clutch my bicep. “Ow! What the hell was that for? How did I make it worse? That guy was mauling you with his dumb pilot hands!”
Her face turns a shade of red brighter than the stop button she just pressed. Shit.
“Dumb pilot hands? What the hell does that even mean? I’m a pilot…do you think I have dumb pilot hands?”
“No…I don’t think…I mean, you have hands, and you’re a pilot, but they aren’t dumb, they’re…they’re…” Shit. How do I tell her they are the most perfect, softest hands I’ve ever held without sounding like a total creep?
“What’s the matter, Mr. Ego? At a loss for words?”
I mean…kinda yeah. “No. I just…I mean…you went along with it. You were smiling. You were holding my hand.”
“Because there were people watching. Specifically fucking Chadd,” she says as she takes a step back and runs her hand over her face, the sigh she lets out crushing my soul. “What the fuck do we do now?”
My gaze falls, my stomach twisting like a knotted ball of skate laces fresh out of the dryer. “I just thought, maybe, if you had a boyfriend, he would leave you alone.”
“I have to see him every flight.”
Yeah…I’m starting to rethink this whole thing now. My vision blurs as my breaths get shorter. We’re in an elevator. Trapped. Is there any oxygen in here? Oh man. I don’t do well in tight spaces where I can’t quickly get out.
Fuck.
“Quick question…” I squeak. She looks at me like I just told her I thought the world was flat. “Could we maybe…um…start up the elevator again?”
Her nose wrinkles, and if I weren’t searching for air, I might think it was cute. “Why?”
“I may be a little…” I clear my throat, “…claustrophobic.”
“Fuck my life,” she grumbles as she hits the start button.
Thank God.
“Thank you. I’m…I’m sorry. I was honestly just trying to help. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”
“Well, you did,” she spits out as we reach the twentieth floor. “This is my floor. I’m going to bed. We’ll figure this out in the morning.” As she steps out of the elevator, I follow, and she gives me a painful look over her shoulder. “Do. Not. Follow. Me.”
I flinch. “I’m not following you.”
“Then why are you walking behind me?!”
“I, um…my-my room.” I point over her head. “It’s on this floor.”
Her shoulders slump as she lets out a loud sigh. “Of course it is. Why wouldn’t I be on the same floor as my new boyfriend?”
I mean, if we were dating, this would be kind of perfect.
As we walk down the hall, I stop at my door and notice she pauses one door past mine. She’s in the room next to me. I’m gonna need a very, very cold shower.
My hand shakes as I reach for my key, realizing I may have actually made this worse for her.
“Kennedy. I’m…I’m really sorry. I really was just trying to get him to leave you alone.”
Her gaze shifts toward the gray-patterned carpet. “I know. But this,” —she looks up, gesturing between us— “complicates things for me.”
For once, I really am at a loss for words.
I’ve already said I’m sorry. I know she won’t let me comfort her.
I want more than anything to tell her I think she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, but even my dumbass knows that would not go over well.
So I just nod and stare at the carpet as well, clearing my throat. “Goodnight then.”
“Night,” she says as she taps the card on her door and disappears behind it.
I unlock my own door and step inside. This was the first real encounter I’ve had with her. And while I thought it was going well—she didn’t. Shit, I really screwed this up.
I kick my shoes off and flop down on the bed, the weight of my actions making me sink further into the mattress.
It feels like I swallowed a rock, and it found a new resting place in my stomach.
She’s embarrassed to be seen with me. The way people will view her…
I’m sure her life as a female pilot is hard enough.
My three older sisters have struggled to be taken seriously in their professions, even with my family connections, and I’m guessing Chadd the Gonad has a fucking loudmouth and will blab our lie everywhere.
I throw an arm over my eyes with a groan.
She’ll have co-workers who view her as dating a guy who, for all intents and purposes, acts like a complete himbo.
They’ll assume she’s with me for my money.
They’ll assume, like everyone else, that my money somehow helped her get to where she is.
I would give anything not to be me right now.
Just to be a regular guy pining after a girl so far outside of his league is hilarious.
A guy worthy of dating someone like Kennedy. No…not someone like her. Actually her.
My phone pings. I want to ignore it and lie here like the Michael Jordan crying meme trying to fall asleep.
But my heart races as I jolt up in bed. Holy shit, maybe it’s her.
I don’t think she even has my number, but maybe she got it from someone?
As I look at the screen, my heart races for an entirely different reason. I was wrong. Very, very wrong.
Blocked Number
I told you to stay the fuck away from her. Doesn’t look like you’re very good at following directions.
Another ping; a photo of Kennedy and me by the elevators appears under the text.
We’re holding hands. Smiling at one another.
A warmth spreads through my chest seeing us like that.
I wonder if it could ever be this way between us.
But my breath catches in my throat. I feel like I’m being chased in a dream where I can’t run fast enough to get away.
Who the fuck took this photo?