22. Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
Riley
As if it isn’t bad enough that we’ve got the damn reporter riding with us, everyone’s acting weird and we’ve been sitting on the tarmac long enough to make me wonder why the hell I didn’t get up and leave while I still had the chance.
Too late now, the door is locked shut.
And we’re moving.
Ughk. My stomach lurches worse than it did when I drank Kian’s gross, fruity beer.
I open my eyes and frown at Trick.
He’s usually good at passing me a drink with a sedative in it before we start fucking rolling.
Today he’s distracted.
When I grunt at him, he shudders as he sits up, pretending he wasn’t full-out staring at our guest like she’s the most gorgeous creature he’s ever seen in real life.
What the hell?
“Uh, huh?” he mutters, straightening up in his seat and brushing imaginary lint off his rolled-up shirt cuffs.
He looks me in the eye after a second, raising one dark eyebrow.
There’s a dazed quality to his stare, and I can tell he’s actively trying not to look at her.
Fuck’s sake, Trick. You’re never hot for anyone.
This is the one time you choose to be into a skirt?
The guy has had super models and porn stars hit on him, and, at least according to him, he felt nothing. Zip. Zilch. Zero. Nada.
Trick has turned down more pussy in his lifetime than I’ve had hot dinners.
He’s had hundreds of propositions over our years in the band, and after all this time it’s a random journalist who gets him all hot and bothered?
Jesus Christ. You can’t make this shit up.
“Water,” I bark out, pissed that I might have to be conscious for our ascent.
Over a crush my handler has on a fucking reporter.
His taste couldn’t get any worse.
“Oh, shit. Right,” he murmurs, quick to check under his seat.
It takes him what feels like forever to get his backpack unzipped.
The crinkling of the bottle as he pulls it out is agonising.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, as he puts it on the table.
I snatch up the bottle, shaking my head.
I resist the urge to snap at him.
It’s not his fault he’s a moron.
I crack the bottle and swallow down as much as I can. Several hefty gulps later, I cap the remainder and set the bottle back on the table between us. He knows I’m done with it, so he double checks the lid is tight before he puts it back in his bag.
“Better?” he asks, giving me a wry smile.
“Hmph,” I mutter, relaxing as much as I can back into my seat.
I know the sedative will work quickly, but it’s not instant.
Until it kicks in, I try to quieten the urge to get up and slam into the door until it opens to get the fuck out of this tin-can death trap.
Everything’s fine. I’ve taken my sedative. We’re still moving slowly toward the runway. The window blinds are all … Not closed.
I take in a deep breath, trying to calm the fuck down so I don’t shout at Trick’s first ever crush to shut the fucking blind. She doesn’t know, and that’s not her fault.
She shouldn’t be here at all, but that’s on Kian.
I turn back to stare at Trick until he pays attention.
His gaze flickers back to me, and he starts to frown.
I nod toward the window with the open blind.
He looks over, slow to clock it, probably because he’s too busy staring at his new obsession.
Anyone would think he just got out of prison, the way he can’t keep his eyes off her.
He makes a muffled sound that might have been a gasp, before he looks back at me.
Mouthing a silent apology, he looks back over at her.
“Oh, um, Ms. Faris?” he starts, sounding way too soft and polite for my liking.
I catch her movement out the corner of my eye, and I glance over as she turns her head away from the window.
“Huh?” she asks, sounding as dazed as he looks.
Pretty face, but she should be wearing that golden blonde hair down, and it feels like she’s missing something else that would make Trick’s reaction understandable. I don’t know what it is, exactly, but … something is not how it should be.
“Would you mind closing the blind for take-off?” Trick asks, as if she has a choice.
If she doesn’t close it, he can explain his painfully obvious boner when he has to get up to do it for her. For a second, I’m pretty sure that’s what’s about to happen.
Something sparks in her bright eyes, and I half expect her to sit up and ask why the hell she should have to do that.
Okay. Now, I kinda get it.
But that spark fizzles right out a second later and she nods slowly.
“Oh, uh, sure,” she murmurs, sounding confused as she reaches out to close it.
Well, that was odd.
I let my gaze linger for a bit, wondering why she isn’t setting off my crazy bitch radar.
There’s something in her that she’s hiding, that’s for sure.
If there wasn’t, I wouldn’t be starting to wonder what her body’s like under that prim little skirt suit. She has at least one tattoo, for sure. Maybe even an interesting piercing.
“You all good?” Trick asks, his voice strained.
I tear my gaze away from our guest. “Fine.”
Forget her. You’ll meet plenty of women at the resort.
Trick can have her. If he gets laid, he might be more fun to be around.
If he fumbles, though, you might just have to pick up the ball.
A smile hits my lips as I rest my head back, closing my eyes.
There’s definitely something about this woman.
I don’t know what it is yet, but I’m sure I’ll have fun finding out.
Later.