Chapter 8
Nate
After an hour of waiting for and loading everyone into the SUVs once again, we’re on our way back to the airport. The excitement that flips my stomach is disorienting. Ian told me the flight crew left early, so I didn’t see Olive this morning.
I glance at the clock on the dashboard, my leg jiggling in anticipation. The driver gives me a questioning look. “You okay, man?”
“Yep.” Would be more okay if you drove quicker. “Never been better.” Or I will be when we get to the airport.
I stare out the window and contemplate the plight that I’m in.
It’s not like I’m surprised that I’m attracted to Olive.
That’s a given, as she’s fucking gorgeous.
But what I am surprised about is the voracity at which I want her.
I feel this pull to get to know her that I always hoped I would feel with someone, but wasn’t sure I would ever find it.
But what’s even more confounding to me is the fear I feel surrounding that. Why would I fear something that I’ve wanted more than anything?
The stopping of the vehicle snaps me back to reality. Once I climb out, I start directing the group toward the plane.
“Nate,” Jenny purrs as she slips her hand around my arm as we walk. “I was wondering if you would like to get dinner tonight.”
I grit my teeth. I didn’t appreciate her advances before I met Olive, but now, they grate on me even more.
I force as much politeness in my tone as I can when I reply, “Miss Bell, as I have explained on multiple occasions, that would be highly inappropriate and unprofessional.” Pulling my arm free from hers, I gesture to the stairs leading to the plane. “After you.”
She narrows her eyes and tilts her head, studying me intently. Then, giving me one last suggestive smile, she passes me to ascend into the plane.
I breathe out a silent sigh as I follow behind.
As I enter the plane, Cade is having a heated conversation with the pilot. I throw him a questioning look as I walk by to find my seat, but I only receive a tight-lipped smile in response.
I glance around the plane to find no Olive. Maybe she’s just in the bathroom. When I look toward the front of the plane again, I see Cade furiously typing on his phone.
Ian elbows me. “I wonder what the hell’s going on. Cade looks worried, and the pilot looks pissed.”
I don’t respond. The swirling emotions inside of me turn to panic.
What if something happened to Olive? What if she’s hurt somewhere? Or worse?
I push out of my chair to talk to Cade, when a flash of black hair and a navy uniform flies into the galley.
Her breathless apologies filter into the cabin just a second later.
I can hear Cade telling her it’s okay and asking her what’s going on.
She moves farther into the galley, so I can’t see or hear her, but the look on Cade’s face as he listens to whatever she tells him is one of sadness.
And sympathy. He opens his arms, and she steps into them, hugging him tight.
Clearly, something’s going on, but at least she isn’t injured, or worse.
I blow out a breath as I sit back down and buckle my seatbelt.
“Crisis averted,” Ian mumbles next to me before returning to reading emails on his phone.
The pilot pops his head out of the cockpit as Olive steps out of the galley, adjusting her uniform.
While his voice is hushed, I can tell he’s scolding her, even if I can’t make out his words.
Olive stands there, her back tense and straight, nodding, and what I can only assume as I watch her lips move, apologizing repeatedly.
He says a few more things with angry hand gestures before returning to the cockpit. Olive shifts away from where he disappeared, wiping her face. My jaw clenches, grip tightening on the armrests. That motherfucker made her cry.
I can’t punch the pilot.
Jack would be mad.
Ella would never let me hear the end of it.
Ian would get grumpy. And no one wants that. He’s grumpy enough as it is.
Taking deep, slow breaths, I count back from fifty. I feel much calmer when I get to zero, even if I still want to punch the pilot.
Maybe I can have a conversation with him when we land about how to treat his coworkers.
I can be very persuasive.
I blow out another heavy breath between pursed lips and shift uncomfortably in my seat.
Once we reach cruising altitude, Cade comes through the cabin and asks for drink orders. Olive stays in the galley. I only catch glimpses of her as she occupies herself away from all of us passengers.
As I wait for those brief sightings, my mind begins to wander. Did she actually meet someone last night because I was too chickenshit to ask her out when I saw her at the coffee shop?
Knowing that I have no control over who she spends her time with and being able to let it go, for that reason, are two very different things.
Unfortunately, I have no say in who Olive dates.
But a large part of me is apparently irrational, because there’s nothing I want more than to have a say in that.
Halfway through the flight, I give in and rise out of my seat, determined to talk to Olive.
Cade has gone into the bathroom, and Ian is asleep, so I figure I have a few minutes.
I casually stroll up to the front of the plane, hoping not to draw attention as I lean against the cabinet at the opening to the galley.
Olive has her back to me, looking down at her phone.
Her long dark hair is pulled back in a low ponytail.
“Olive.”
I cringe when she jumps, nearly dropping her phone. She spins around to face me, her phone clutched to her chest. “Nate,” she breathlessly whispers.
The way she says my name goes straight to my cock. All I can imagine is her saying my name while breathless for an entirely different reason. I adjust my stance to relieve the pressure on the zipper of my pants.
I clear my throat before I ask, “Is everything okay?”
She avoids eye contact as she turns to the counter behind her, pretending to be busy doing something. From my vantage point, it just looks like she’s moving glasses around and not actually doing anything productive. “Everything’s fine. Just a little alarm clock mix-up.”
I clench my jaw again. I know she’s lying to me. “Olive, you look a little more upset than if it was just an alarm clock that didn’t go off.”
Her shoulders rise and fall with her breaths. “It doesn’t matter.”
I take a small step closer. “Olive, please tell me.”
She pivots to me. “Nate, it’s really none of your business. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. So just drop it.”
I grind my teeth. My mind screams at me that she’s absolutely correct.
It really isn’t any of my business. But I want her to open up to me.
I want her to tell me her problems and her worries and to let me help her.
As I take a step closer, her eyes widen a fraction.
The pain in them is evident, and it breaks my heart.
My hand raises to brush a piece of hair off her cheek, tucking it behind her ear.
Her breath puffs on the skin of my arm, and goosebumps flare down my body.
I drop my hand while fighting the urge to touch her more.
“You’re right. I don’t know you. Yet. But I’m here, even if it’s just to listen. ”
“You don’t mean that,” she replies, her eyebrows pressing together in skepticism and distress.
I lick my lips as exhilaration and panic ripple through me at how assured I am that I do mean exactly that. “Yeah, Olive, I do.”
The corners of her eyes pinch as I take a step back. I don’t want to push too hard, despite needing her to know how serious I am. Even if my stomach flips at the realization, my earlier fear flares. But I tamp it down. Sometimes, good things in life can be just as scary as they are elating.