“Excuse me! Coming through, people!”

Autumn stood back, watching as her friend struggled to drag her luggage down the narrow aisle. Cutting Summer a wide berth, she pretended she had no idea who that crazy woman with no concept of size regulation was. How they let her on the plane with that thing was a freaking mystery. Summer’s suitcase could have doubled for a body bag.

“Oops, sorry… Pardon me.”

Autumn mumbled her own apologies to the assaulted passengers as she squeezed past them, none looking very forgiving. By the time they made it to their seats at the back of the plane, she was pretty sure her friend had run over at least two people’s toes and given the guy ahead of them a concussion. That girl was not as strong as she thought she was, and Summer just dropped her suitcase on some poor man’s head.

Yeah, that just happened.

Thank God he was gracious about the whole thing. It probably didn’t hurt that her tits were in his face as she leaned toward him, profusely apologizing while trying to hoist her body bag off his lap.

“Why don’t I just put it up there for you?” he offered, rising from his seat with her suitcase in hand.

Holy shit, he was big…and hot. There was no use pretending he wasn’t. Sitting down, Autumn couldn’t fully appreciate the sheer size of what must easily be six-foot-three-inches of rock hard muscle. A flutter of feminine awareness awakened in her stomach like a baby butterfly taking flight for the first time after struggling free of its cocoon. The foreign sensation caught her off guard and she pressed her hand to the flat of her belly. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been around a man and felt…well, anything.

“Thanks. That would be great,” Summer said, dropping dramatically into the seat two rows behind him.

The man gave Autumn an apologetic smile for holding up the line, but it quickly changed to something a lot smarmier when his gaze dropped below her neck. And just like that, her butterfly’s wings were clipped and that little Monarch torpedoed to the ground. Why was she surprised? She should have been used to it by now. God blessed her with an impressive pair of breasts, though most days she’d argue it was a curse.

Despite popular belief amongst the male species, she was more than just a tight ass and a great rack. As of ten seconds ago, her patience had dwindled to a two, so if this guy knew what was good for him, he’d get his eyes back in his head and move the hell out of her way.

With little to no effort, he stuffed Summer’s suitcase in the overhead compartment. But instead of returning to his seat, Passenger 32-C turned to the side and gestured her past him with a gallant sweep of his arm. There was no way they were both going to fit through that aisle. Not without a lot of up close and personal contact, and Autumn was not giving this skeeze a cheap thrill.

“That’s all right. I can wait for you to sit back down. I’m not in that big of a hurry.”

His sheepish grin confirmed he’d just been busted, but the guy didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed about it. Yep, total doucher. Just her luck, the first guy to light her fire since Alex doused it would have to be this yahoo. Did all women naturally attract these assholes, or was she just lucky?

If Autumn’s life were a Marvel comic, this would be her super power. Not only could she spot a douchebag a mile away, she also seemed to draw them in like moths to a flame—which was why Autumn Harris was officially done with men. #iheartmyvibrator. Roger Rabbit never cheated on her and could make her come in under sixty seconds, so who needed men? Certainly not her.

The guy folded his massive frame into his seat as she promptly pushed past him, her eyes rolling in disgust. If Autumn didn’t know better, she’d swear the guy’s throaty chuckle followed her all the way to her seat. Summer was already settled by the time she got there and, bless her heart, she’d saved the aisle for Autumn. Her friend knew she was claustrophobic and hated to fly—a lovely combination. So then why, one might wonder, was she on this airplane bound for Cyprus, A.K.A the Island of Love? Because her best friend and travel agent extraordinaire came across an amazing vacation package for two and she was taking Autumn on a girls’ getaway for her 30^th birthday.

“See, this is exactly why you should check your bag.” Autumn dropped down beside her, carrying nothing but a small purse. “Mr. Helpful back there tried to feel me up on the way to my seat.”

“You should have let him. He’s hot.”

Autumn shifted in her chair to get a better look at her friend. She couldn’t tell if Summer was joking or not. She had a sarcastic sense of humor that, on most days, Autumn could wholeheartedly appreciate. But today? Not so much. Autumn was dreading the sixteen-hour flight ahead of them and praying they had enough alcohol on the plane to get her there.

Before she could tell her friend to kiss her ass—because when you’ve been besties since kindergarten, you could do things like that—Summer’s cell started to ring. “Aren’t you supposed to have that thing shut off?”

“The plane isn’t moving yet.” She rifled through her purse that was currently singing, if you like piña coladas, and Autumn most certainly did—anything with rum in it would do nicely right about now. Summer found her phone as she was getting caught in the rain.

“Mom? Yeah, I’m on the plane. We’re about to take off. What’s up? What? Me-ma is dead?”

Oh, no…

The seatbelt sign lit up as the stewardess announced everyone should, “power off all electronic and cellular devices at this time.”

“Hold on. I’ll call you right back.”

Summer hung up the phone and shoved it back in her purse. Unfastening her seatbelt, she reached overhead and turned on the light for assistance. “I gotta go, Autumn. My grandma died.” Summer was on her feet and trying to squeeze past her before she could stand and fold up her seat. Her friend stumbled into the aisle and almost landed on the poor unsuspecting passenger across from them.

“I’m sorry. Her grandma just died,” Autumn apologized, because this lady didn’t look as pleased to have Summer’s tits in her face as the guy two rows up ahead of them had.

“Hold on, Summer. I’m coming with you,” Autumn called, trying to follow her out, but she was blocking the aisle as she struggled to wrestle her suitcase from the overhead compartment.

“No, you can’t. This vacation is non-refundable and already paid for. There’s no sense in both of us missing it.”

“I don’t want to go without you.” Not only would Autumn feel like an ass for taking off on vacation while her best friend stayed behind to bury her grandmother, she did not want to go alone.

“You have to go,” Summer protested, opening the top zipper of her suitcase and pulling out a wrapped package with a big yellow bow on top. “You need this, Autumn.”

She handed her the present and Autumn was speechless, torn between wasting the vacation her friend had spent a lot of money on, and having a panic attack because the idea of going alone terrified the ever-loving hell out of her. She barely traveled out of state, let alone the country. She felt ridiculous and selfish for even thinking about herself when her best friend’s grandma just died and Summer looked like she was about to lose her shit. Autumn was pretty sure if she started to argue with her about not going, that was exactly what would happen.

“Can I help you?” the stewardess asked, coming up behind Summer.

“Yes. I need off the plane. I just found out my grandma died.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Of course. Come with me.”

The stewardess started to lead Summer away and her friend paused long enough to give her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. “Go to Cyprus, Autumn. And promise me you’ll do everything I have planned while you’re there.”

She wasn’t sure what Summer had planned, it was supposed to be a surprise, but tears were rolling down her friend’s cheeks and all she could do was dumbly nod, stunned this was happening. Summer took off after the stewardess and Autumn was left standing in Row 34 Seat C with her birthday present clutched tightly in her hands. Sitting back down, she wondered if there was enough room to put her head between her legs, because she could feel a panic attack coming on.

Sixteen hours. That was precisely how long she was going to be stuck on the plane. Just the thought of it made her stomach churn, anxiety kicking her heart into her throat. Autumn pressed the overhead button for assistance and could imagine the poor stewardesses playing rock, paper, scissors to determine which one of them was going to have to go back there and deal with her. The brunette with the inverted bob must have lost, because a moment later, she was standing beside Autumn.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes. I’m sorry to bother you, but can I please have…anything with rum in it?”

“Ma’am, it’s six a.m.”

“Well, it’s one p.m. in Cyprus.” How can anyone even argue with that kind of logic? Autumn gestured the woman a little closer and all but growled when she leaned down. “Don’t judge me, lady. I promise you do not want me doing this flight sober.”

* * *

“Welcome to the Island of Love!”

Autumn was greeted by an overly cheerful man giving her an elegant bow as she stumbled off the plane and squinted into the blinding sun. Must. Find. Sunglasses. She stopped in the middle of the tarmac and began rifling through her purse when someone slammed into her from behind. The impact sent her flying forward. She almost kissed the pavement when a muscular arm caught her around the waist and lifted her up before setting her back to rights.

“Whoa… You all right there? You stopped short on me.”

Great. Doucher. How did this guy get behind her when he’d exited the plane first? Despite his handsome face and gold-flecked eyes, she wasn’t buying what this guy was selling.

“Are you following me?” Autumn was not an angry drunk by nature—and yes, she was still sauced—but she had no problem calling a spade a spade and confrontation certainly wasn’t an issue for her. Especially not when she was tired, irritable, and had to pee, because there wasn’t enough booze in the world to conquer her claustrophobia enough to get her inside an airplane bathroom.

Autumn wasn’t sure which part of what she’d said was so amusing, but Doucher laughed, flashing her a set of disarming dimples. “You caught me.” He raised his hands guiltily. “Stalking snarky redheads is totally my thing. You dropped these, by the way.” He reached into his back pocket and handed Autumn her sunglasses. “They fell out of your purse when you stumbled off the plane. Enjoy the Island of Love, sweetheart.”

She wasn’t so wasted that she didn’t recognize the sarcastic endearment. Still sore from the eye-fuck he’d given her on the plane, Autumn opened her mouth to give this guy a piece of her mind, but he turned and walked away, blending in with the crowd of passengers all heading toward customs. Despite herself, her eyes took a slow descent from his wide, muscular shoulders to that trim, narrow waist. Nor could she help noticing the way his dark, distressed jeans hung low on his hips, hugging his ass like they were made just for him.

Well, shit. She was no better than he was, standing here staring at his backside like he was nothing more than a piece of meat. But man, was he a fine piece of USDA Prime. The way he walked, the fluid grace and control he had over a body that size… Sometimes a girl could just watch a man move and know that guy can fuck.

Autumn expected him to look back. Maybe even give her another one of those parting dimple-flashing grins. But to her surprise, he didn’t even cast her a fleeting glance. Perhaps her powers of perception were a bit skewed by her inebriation. Oh, well...she had to pee.

* * *

“Next!”

The customs guy from hell called out as Autumn finally approached the desk. Her passport was open, her declaration papers were filled out and ready. And now she really needed to pee. The man behind the counter looked at her as he studied the passport, his gaze shifting from her to the papers then back to her as if he couldn’t decide if the redhead in the photo was her or not.

“Your hair is longer.”

Autumn bit her tongue to keep from saying something that would probably get her strip searched.

“I like it,” he added.

She didn’t care. She just wanted this guy to stamp her passport so she could make a mad dash to the bathroom before there was a clean-up in aisle seven. The sign above the door down the hall taunted her as she shifted her weight back and forth. She hadn’t done the pee-pee dance since she was five years old. It was a mystery why it helped, but she’d have danced a freaking jig if it would get her through the damn line.

“Enjoy your stay on the Island of Love.”

The man gave her passport his stamp of approval and handed her papers back. Autumn stuffed them in her purse and ran down the hall like an Olympian star athlete. The door was in sight and she was singing hallelujah when it swung open, abruptly cutting her off. Unable to stop in time, she plowed into a wall of muscle, and for the second time today, arms wrapped around her waist, keeping her upright. Only this time she was hit with a blast of the most delicious spicy, masculine scent. It was like crack to her senses…pure nose candy as she stood there with her face buried in some poor guy’s chest. The wings of her Monarch miraculously healed and must have had a whole slew of babies as the fluttering going on in her stomach sent an ache right between her legs.

“What the fuck?”

His startled words echoed her sentiments exactly as the guy none-too-gently peeled Autumn off him like a cling-on and set her a cautious step back. That unexpected spark of arousal firing in her veins got a quick dousing when she glanced up and realized who she’d just plowed into. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Doucher…

His dark brow ticked up, but she couldn’t tell if he was surprised or annoyed. Either way, he wasn’t smiling, and without that flash of dimple to soften the hard angles of his handsome face, the man standing before her was surprisingly intimidating.

“Are you following me?” he asked, with the same irritated tone Autumn had laid on him not even sixty minutes ago.

Yep, he was pissed. Either that or he was an incredibly convincing smartass, albeit a very hot, wonderful smelling smartass—but an ass all the same. Autumn took a little deeper breath, stealing one last whiff before letting him have it. The estrogen flooding her system was making her high—or maybe she was still drunk, which was also a very real possibility.

“I’m not following you. I’m trying to go to the bathroom.”

“In the men’s room?” He crossed his arms over his muscular chest, completely blocking the entrance.

“No, jackass. In the women’s.” She pointed to the sign of the triangle-shaped stick person above his head. Those uniquely colored eyes followed her finger. Seeing the blush stain his cheeks was almost worth peeing her pants, because if she started to laugh, that was exactly what would have happened. “Apparently, someone can’t read. Either that, or you’re a perv and my original accusation stands. Are you following me?”

Conceding her the victory, he stepped out of the way and held the door open for her to pass through. If she didn’t have to go so badly, Autumn would have gladly stood there and razzed him about using the women’s restroom a while longer. Now that she was in there, she could understand the confusion. The bathroom was a single stall design, but it was still funny as hell seeing that look on Doucher’s face. She closed the door behind her and locked it. By the time she came back out, he was gone, and Autumn would not admit to the small pang of disappointment that pinched her chest at the discovery.