Chapter one #2
Before I can reply, Dr. O’Neil reaches in to pet Chewy just as the dog stirs awake. When the puppy blinks up at me and I see cognitive response, I know he’s going to be okay, and his family will be grateful to have him back.
And just like that, I’m reminded of why I chose this career. We don’t deserve pets. The unconditional love they show us is unmatched. They don’t give us shit like older brothers, or torture us like ex-fiancées.
They serve as yet another reminder that most humans don’t even understand the concept of love, even when it’s right in front of them.
Unfortunately, I know that firsthand and refuse to be made a fool of ever again.
***
“Why does it take people so long to get on an airplane?” I grumble to myself as I stand in the aisle, waiting for a few people up ahead to stop arguing about who has the window seat and just fucking sit down already.
Luckily, they figure things out, finally allowing me to take the few steps to my seat.
I stash my carry-on suitcase in the overhead compartment and plop down into the seat below me.
“More people die in car accidents than plane crashes, Cashlynn. Just remember that.” My head snaps to the woman on my right, who’s staring out the small window at the asphalt below, muttering to herself.
Jesus. Of course I get seated next to the woman who’s talking to herself.
“Although our luck seems to be subpar anyway, which means we could be the one that increases the statistic. Oh God, this is how we’re going to die…”
Fuck. This woman is afraid of flying. And even though it’s none of my business, if she keeps narrating her death in the third person, I’m not going to be able to ignore her.
The last thing I wanted to do on this flight was strike up a conversation with the person sitting next to me.
I was actually looking forward to binge-watching the second season of Bridgerton.
Hazel, my younger sister, is watching it too, and we are planning on talking about it tonight on the phone once I get settled into my hotel.
But now, I feel an obligation to calm this woman.
She’s obviously afraid, and the last thing I want is for her to have a fucking panic attack mid-flight.
Then someone might call out for a doctor, and I’ll be put in that uncomfortable position where—yes—I am a doctor, just not for people.
And then I’ll have to explain why I didn’t just help her in the first place and look like an asshole who saves puppies but lets humans freak the fuck out.
“You’re not going to die,” I say, debating placing my hand on her shoulder and deciding against it.
She pushes her hair away from her face but keeps her gaze locked outside, her hands continuing to fidget in her lap. “I’m just trying to remind myself that the likelihood of me plummeting to my death in this plane is fairly low.” She clears her throat. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”
I remove my hand from the armrest and start to fasten my seat belt.
“The worst part is taking off and landing, in my opinion. Once you’re in the air, there’s not much to worry about.
” I snap the belt in place, feeling slightly less irritated now that I’ve tried to comfort her.
But then she blows out a breath and turns to face me just as I lift my head.
When our eyes meet, it’s like someone just punched me in the chest.
Holy shit. This woman is fucking gorgeous.
Silky blonde hair. Amber eyes that practically glow. Soft, full pink lips.
But her eyebrows are drawn together, every ounce of her fear etched in the lines of her face. My chest does some weird tightening thing and I want to reach out and touch her again.
Fuck.
This woman is exactly the type I should stay the hell away from—the kind that makes me feel something other than just horny. Although my dick definitely has some thoughts about our seat neighbor. Too bad he’s not running the show today.
“I just don’t do it that often, so when I do, my anxiety builds up, you know?” she says, pulling me back to reality. “For instance, I couldn’t sleep at all the last three nights just knowing I had to take this flight today.”
“Three nights?” I shove my laptop bag under the seat in front of me, hoping my heart rate will calm the fuck down before I look back at her.
“Yeah, which means I’ll at least sleep well tonight when my head hits the pillow.”
“That’s true.” We stare at each other for another moment, my mind and body at war before I finally remember my manners and extend my hand to her. “I’m Parker, by the way.”
“Cashlynn.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Sorry you had to hear me rambling about dying,” she says with a chuckle.
Suddenly, our conversation isn’t so irritating anymore. “It’s okay. Flying is a legitimate fear.”
“I know, but I don’t want to be that annoying person you sit next to on the plane and tell your friends about later,” she says, just as there’s a sudden bang from beneath us. Her eyes widen instantly. “Oh my God! What was that?”
I glance around the cabin, expecting to see something out of the ordinary. “What?”
“That noise!”
My brain catches up to speed. “Oh, they’re just closing the luggage compartments.” Cashlynn closes her eyes and breathes deeply, in and out through her nose. “Are you going to freak out about every sound on this flight?”
She peeks one eye open. “Maybe.”
I huff out a laugh, surprised by how entertaining this woman is. “Is there, uh, anything I can do to help?”
“Do you happen to have any Xanax?”
I pat the pockets of my pants and the one on my shirt mockingly. “Nope, fresh out.”
“Not funny.”
I twist in my seat, facing her, hating how the more I look at her, the more I find myself wondering what her lips taste like.
Is she wearing flavored gloss? Would I taste coffee on her tongue? Or is she a Diet Coke drinker like…
Nope. Not going there, Parker.
“Then what can I do to help?” Color me surprised, but seeing this woman on the verge of a panic attack is really messing with me. And fuck, she’s piqued my interest like no other woman has in a long time.
It couldn’t be because she’s quirky, sarcastic, and beautiful… Right, Parker?
“Nothing. I’ll be okay.”
“I don’t know if you will.”
Both of her eyes fly open now. “Why would you say that?”
“I’m just thinking maybe you’re denying my help out of pride, not because you truly don’t want it.”
“What on earth could you possibly do to help me through this?” she asks, right as the captain comes over the loudspeaker, signaling the flight attendants to complete their final checks.
“Oh God. It’s coming.” She covers her face with both hands, and for the life of me, I’m not sure if I should be alarmed or if she’s going to snap out of it once we’re in the air.
“I could hold your hand,” I blurt, surprising myself.
Her hands fall from her face. “What?”
“You heard me. I’ll hold your hand. It might help.”
She arches a brow, like she’s considering it for a moment, then shakes her head. “No, that’s really not necessary.”
“It’s worth a shot.” I shrug. “Plus, I’ve been told I have very strong, capable hands.” I hold them up, fanning them out for her to admire.
“Did you really just brag about your hands?” she asks, laughing. “I’m sure they are very impressive, but I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”
“No.” She shakes her head again. “No, it’s okay. I appreciate the offer, but…”
“You’re seriously denying me the pleasure of holding your hand?” I tease.
“Denying you the pleasure? You sound like one of the men from Bridgerton.”
“Well, for your information, I intended to watch season two during the flight until you started rambling.”
She covers her chest with her hand. “Seriously? You watch that show?”
“Yeah.” I push my glasses up on my nose. “My sister got me into it, and I’m not ashamed to admit it’s really fucking good.”
She tilts her head, a small quirk in her lips. “Who the hell are you?”
I clear my throat and offer my hand to her again. “I’m Parker Sheppard, your in-flight companion, and I think you should let me help you get through this.”
Her eyes drop down to my hands before lifting to meet my gaze. I can see the hesitation, the way she bites her bottom lip in contemplation. Then the plane starts moving and she lets out a small whimper that isn’t meant to make my dick twitch, but he definitely approves.
Before she talks herself out of the innocent gesture, I make one last attempt. “How about I play you for it?”
“For my hand?” Her eyes dart around me, watching the flight attendants check the cabin.
“Yeah. If I win, I hold your hand throughout the flight.”
“And if I win?” she asks, the pinch in her brow growing again as the plane starts to roll along the asphalt beneath us while we make our way toward the runway.
“Then you can suffer in whatever way you please.”
“What are we playing?” she squeaks out as the flight attendants begin their safety demonstration.
Leaning closer so as not to talk over the instructional recording, I say, “Rock, paper, scissors.”
She rears her head back. “Seriously?”
I arch a brow at her this time. “What? Afraid you’ll lose?”
“How did I manage to get seated next to you?” she asks rhetorically, but there’s a hint of disbelief in her voice.
“Flight attendants prepare for takeoff,” the captain says over the loud speakers as the plane continues to roll toward the runway.
“You’re running out of time, Cashlynn. Now what’ll it be?”
“Fine.” She sits up taller in her seat and twists slightly so we can face each other head on. “On three?” she asks as we both poise our hands out in front of us.
“Yup,” I agree. “One…”
“Two…”
“Three,” I say as she displays a closed fist and I flash my best set of spirit fingers underneath hers. “Ha! I win!”
“What the hell is that?” she practically shrieks. “That’s not a rock, or paper, or scissors!”
“Nope. That’s fire, baby.”
“Fire?”