Chapter 2 #2
She wasn’t. Not with the small hitch in her breath, the brittle edge of recent tears.
“I’m coming in,” he said quietly, drawing the curtain aside. He stepped through and let it fall closed behind him.
She sat on the converted sofa, knees drawn up, facing the entrance. The soft overhead light caught the sheen of tears on her cheeks, and the sight hit him square in the chest.
“Sweetheart.” The endearment slipped out before he could stop it. He didn’t like seeing the ravages of tears on her face.
She swiped at her cheeks, chin lifting. “It’s just allergies,” she muttered.
He placed the glass beside the untouched tea and jumble of jewelry, and sat on the other end of the sofa close to her feet. Pink-tipped toes peeked out from beneath the hem of the brushed cotton pants she wore to sleep in.
She eyed him, defensive. “Who’s flying the plane?”
“Melinda’s husband,” he said, voice calm. “Co-pilot.”
Her brows lifted. “She’s married?”
“Mm.” His mouth curved faintly. “Very happily.”
That earned him a flicker of something — relief, maybe — before she looked away.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and turned his head to look at her. “Now,” he said quietly, “you going to tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to guess?”
She made a sound that was halfway between a scoff and a sigh. “You’d be guessing for a while.”
“I’ve got time,” he said, easy and unhurried.
She folded her arms, eyes fixed on the tea she hadn’t touched. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. It’s stupid.”
“Emotions aren’t stupid.”
Her head snapped up at that. “You don’t even know what it’s about.”
“I don’t have to,” he said simply. “Whatever it is … it’s yours, and it matters.”
She stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether to believe him. “You’re very persistent, you know that?”
“Occupational hazard.”
That earned him a tiny laugh. Progress. She tightened her arms around her knees and picked at a thread from the hem.
“It’s just …” She hesitated, then shook her head. “It’s everything. This whole trip. Meeting the Lawsons. Trying not to mess it up.”
He cleared his throat softly. “Sounds perfectly human.”
“Not when you’ve spent years keeping everything neat and safe,” she said quietly. “This feels … messy.”
“Messy isn’t always bad,” he murmured.
She gave a faint huff. “Easy for you to say. You walk into a room, and everyone falls over themselves to make you comfortable.”
His brow lifted slightly. “You think so?”
She met his gaze, eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me people don’t,” she said. “You’re you.”
He held her gaze, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “And you’re you.”
For a moment she looked startled. Then looked away, a flush creeping up her throat. “Have you ever met the Lawsons?”
“I haven’t.” He hesitated, then added, “I’m also a bit nervous about the wedding.”
Her brows lifted. “You are?”
“Cecelia.”
“Cecelia?” Her forehead puckered. “Oh. Right. The supermodel. You two dated for a while. She married one of the Lawson brothers.” She leaned back, amusement playing around her lips. “Yep. That could be awkward.”
“Just a tad.”
That earned him another soft laugh. And a narrow-eyed stare. “But I don’t believe for a second that you’re actually worried about that.”
He lifted a brow. “Why not? Meeting exes and their current spouses can get … sticky.”
“Sure,” she said, her tone turning dry. “But the famous JK Kenzie wouldn’t concern himself with the feelings and emotions of mere mortals, would he?”
The jab hit harder than she probably intended. Something tightened in his chest. “I’m just a man, Suzette,” he said quietly. “Made of flesh and blood.”
Her mouth opened, then closed again. For a moment, she looked almost contrite.
He gave her a faint smile, easing the tension. “It’s okay. I get it. Sometimes the screen makes the man look bigger than he is.”
For a while, neither of them spoke. The engines droned steadily beneath them, a constant heartbeat in the dark. From the bedroom just beyond, Miem’s soft snoring filtered through the closed door. Somewhere up front, a cupboard latch clicked, then silence again.
He studied her features. The clean skin, the fine lines time had etched around her mouth and eyes. Her lashes cast shadows across faint freckles, and her gaze was steady, sky-blue with darker flecks that seemed to pull him in.
And her lips … soft, full. Delectable. Made for kisses.
His kisses.
His gaze lifted to meet hers again, pulse ticking a little faster.
“But it’s an illusion. Isn’t it?” Her voice was soft, eyes searching. “The masks we don. The walls we build to keep the pain from creeping in. But there’s always seepage. Little cracks that widen until it all comes down.”
He held her stare. “Have yours?”
She tilted her head, thoughtful, her expression turning inward. “I thought so. But maybe not.” A faint, wry smile formed. “Whatever happens in Texas will happen. Then I’ll go back home and continue with my simple life.”
Her lashes fluttered. “And remember the moment I sat beside JK Kenzie and shared a conversation.”
He recognized the subtle shift — the way she closed the door on the moment, neatly, deliberately.
And he let her. For now.
This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
And luckily for both of them, he was a very persistent man.