I STOOD AT terminal C6, my hands in my pockets and the strap of my laptop bag swung over my shoulder as I waited for Elle to arrive. Our flight was set to board in approximately fifteen minutes, and I paced the floor in her absence, my gaze darting in every direction, searching for her thin frame and headful of blonde hair. Flying wasn’t exactly an enjoyment of mine to begin with, but the thought that she might have changed her mind about accompanying me wound up my nerves to the point of distraction. Attending the conference this weekend was optional, and I wouldn't hold it against her if she decided not to come, but I had done this for her. It was an opportunity to get her feet wet and meet some of the top players in the industry. It was a great place to put a name to a face.
And if I was being damn honest with myself, I wanted her by my side, more than anything.
Sighing my disappointment and frustration at her lack of punctuality, I pulled my cell phone from my jacket pocket. I scrolled through my long list of contacts, and as I stopped on her name, the familiar smell of her perfume wafted to my nose. I lifted my head quickly, holding back the urge to smile at her sudden appearance.
Out of breath and her chest heaving, Elle stood in front of me, her hair wet and her hand curled tightly around the strap of a small carry-on bag. “I’m sorry I’m late. I know you asked me to meet you here twenty minutes ago, but I had an issue with my landlord, and then on top of it all, the taxi I hopped in broke down.” She laughed, biting down on her lip and shaking her head at her impossible luck. “Figures, right? Leave it to Elle Callihan to get into the broken taxi when she’s meant to be somewhere important.”
She continued to ramble, and I let her, captivated by the way her arms moved animatedly and her voice held a bit of excitement as she spoke about mundane shit. How did she do that? How did she bleed life and passion into mediocrity?
Without thinking, I smoothed my fingers over her cheek to brush away a few strands of wet hair clinging to her face. She stopped talking the second my skin touched hers, and her eyes flashed to mine, the sparkling blue pools full of wonderment. The hollow dip at the base of her throat moved on a swallow, and her mouth parted.
I resisted the urge to drag my thumb across the fullness of her bottom lip and instead swept it over the curve of her jaw before pulling away. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Elle didn’t reply. A red blush colored her cheeks, and she pressed her lips together, shoving her hands in the front pockets of her jeans and rocking forward on her toes. Her gaze drifted around the packed terminal gate, the people sitting in chairs with their eyes glued to their electronics and the others who sipped on coffee or stared blankly into the distance. “I have to say I’m a bit surprised.”
“Surprised? Surprised how? At what?”
“This.” She waved her hand around in the air, and we both moved from where we stood, walking to an empty row of plastic seats and sitting down until our flight was called for boarding. “I would have thought you owned your own private jet or something.”
Amused at her assumption, I laughed. “Why the hell would I own my own private jet when I hate flying?”
Elle shrugged, unfazed by my confession. “All the more reason to, I guess.” When I said nothing, she continued to elaborate. “Obviously you hate it because you’re afraid of crashing, right? Think about it. If you owned your own jet, you’d be in charge of hiring the pilot and the mechanics. You’d have all the control, which I’m learning quickly is how you seem to like it.”
Smirking, I licked my lips and shook my head, a puff of air leaving my nose. I did like control. She wasn’t wrong in that respect, and lately I craved it more and more because everything else about my life was so out of my control. Resting my hand on my knee, I turned to look at her. “I think you’re in the wrong career field, Ms. Callihan.” She belonged in law or somewhere she could put her arguing to good use.
Elle paused, considering my statement, and then shook her head in disagreement. Her eyes bored into mine, doing what they always did—stealing my thoughts and my ability to breathe. “No. I think I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.”
I held her gaze, torn between looking away and not looking away, and as we sat silently in what seemed like our own little bubble, my mind took me back three weeks ago: to the feel of her lips on my skin as we sat outside of the bridal shop and how desperately I wanted to take control of that moment—take control of her. Had I, I wouldn’t be sitting here wondering if her bite was as vicious as her bark and if her body would come alive under the feel of my hands the way it did when she spoke, so passionate, so intense.
I had done my best to avoid her around the office but only because I needed to put my focus back on the things that mattered, and unfortunately, Elle Callihan wasn’t one of them.
She could never be one of them.
“Attention, passengers. We will start the boarding process for flight four-three-six-one. If you are a business class pass holder, group one, please make your way to line A. We will also be boarding disabled passengers and any passenger who is active duty military at this time. To ensure quick and easy boarding, we ask that you please have your boarding passes ready. Thank you.”
Both Elle and I stood, and I waited for her to walk first, my hand coming up with no forethought from me and resting in the small of her back as we made our way over to the line we’d been instructed to join. If my hand on her affected her in any way, she didn’t let on. She held her phone out, allowing the airline attendant to scan her electronic pass, and started down the jet bridge.
I pulled in a deep breath, my anxiety already getting the better of me as the attendant scanned my ticket and I followed Elle. Her hair swayed against her shoulders, and as we approached the plane, she turned to look at me, a beaming smile on her face.
“Coming?”
“Yeah. Right behind you.”
We boarded the plane, moving along the narrow corridor that housed the attendant station and then into the designated area that made up business class. Elle turned at the waist, looking at me as she found our assigned row in the aisle. “Mind if I sit near the window? I like looking out at the clouds.”
I shook my head, the bile in my stomach beginning to swirl. “No. It’s all yours.” Opening the overhead bin, I slid my carry-on bag inside before reaching over and freeing Elle’s from her shoulder. Placing it beside mine, I smoothed a hand down my tie and stepped to the side, allowing her access to her larger-than-coach-size seat before dropping myself on mine.
Buckling my seatbelt, I glanced at the window. “You’re not going to leave the shade open the entire flight, are you?”
She looked at me, her brows pulling together slightly. “You really are afraid of flying, aren’t you?”
It wasn’t easy for a man to admit his fears, but hell, there was no denying this one. I hated flying. Really fucking hated it. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
Understanding flashing across her expression, Elle slid the window shade closed, and I felt a fraction of relief. We waited for the rest of the passengers to board, and as the plane rolled along the tarmac and the attendants explained the flight and safety procedures, I pulled in long, deep breaths. I needed a whiskey or a gin and tonic, stat. The captain’s voice echoed through the overhead speaker, and as he warned everyone to prepare for takeoff, I pressed back into my seat and closed my eyes.
Elle leaned into my space. Her mouth was right beside my ear, her breath warm as she released a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry. I’ve been told if the plane crashes, we won’t feel a thing.”
My eyes flew open and my head whipped in her direction. The color drained from my face, and I swept my hands down my thighs, ridding them of the layer of sweat collecting on my palms. “Funny.” I scowled at her. “Real funny.”
Elle laughed, that beautiful damn sound I loved hearing so much. “Relax.” Reaching over—her long slender fingers hesitating for a moment in their journey—she placed her hand on mine, squeezing it gently. “Everything will be fine. We will make it to L.A. in one piece. I promise.”
I stared at her.
She was wrong.
There was no way I was making it to L.A. in one piece because in the last five seconds I’d already felt less whole than I’d ever been. In one simple move—one reassuring gesture—Elle Callihan had unknowingly stolen a piece of me, a piece I wasn't sure I even wanted back.
“What do you mean there’s been a mix-up?” The vein in my neck throbbed as my pulse quickened, and the stress tightening my shoulders from all the turbulence we experienced on the flight here had been amplified. “How the hell do you possibly overbook your rooms. That is absolutely ridiculous, and I don’t care what you need to do. I want the keys to the two rooms I paid for. Not one.”
“Owen.” Elle cupped her hand under my elbow, attempting to get my attention, but I ignored her, instead trying to rectify our current mess of a situation. Never in my life, all the times I'd traveled, had I ever had this happen. And it couldn't happen. Not now. Not with Elle here with me.
“I do apologize, sir. I can assure you normally this isn’t an issue, but with the publishing convention this weekend and the mass amount of bookings, we had an unforeseen problem with the software on our computer system, and rooms were booked when they shouldn’t have been. Management is offering reimbursement of your room charges and a two-night comp for any future date of your choosing.”
My hand tightened into a fist. “This is unacceptable. How does a five-star hotel—”
“Owen. It’s fine.” Elle spoke louder this time and tugged harder on my jacket sleeve, forcing me to look at her. “Let’s just…we’re here, okay? If you’re okay with it, we can share the room. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”
I shook my head, irritation evident in my tone. “Jesus Christ, Elle, I’m not going to let you sleep on the floor because some asshole failed to do their job correctly. These rooms were booked weeks ago. This should never have happened.” Exhaling loudly and my nostrils flaring, I bowed my head and pinched the bridge of my nose, the rearing of an ugly headache beginning to pulse in my temples.
Fuck. I didn't need this right now.
Ignoring me, Elle turned to look at the hotel receptionist. “Can you provide additional pillows and blankets?”
He nodded quickly. “Yes, of course, ma’am. We also have cots available. I can make sure the extra pillows and linens and cot are sent up immediately. Anything you need—”
“We need two goddamn rooms is what we need!” My fist slammed down against the granite countertop, and my voice came out as a deafening roar, grabbing the eyes of everyone around us. My chest rose and fell sharply, and guilt stabbed through me as I watched Elle’s entire body wince in what I assumed was embarrassment.
She licked her lips and smiled apologetically, first at the hotel receptionist, who had taken a step back from my outburst, and then at everyone staring at us before once again returning to her initial conversation. “That would be great. Please send them up as soon as you can. Thank you.”
“Of course. Right away, ma'am.” The man behind the check-in desk moved back over to his computer, quickly registering us into the system and sliding us two key cards for one shared room. “Your room is on floor eight and is number eight-oh-five. If there is anything at all we can do for you during your stay, please don't hesitate to let us know.”
Despite what this meant, despite the fact that we would be sharing a room together for the entire weekend, a plan that was not in the slightest ideal, for many reasons, Elle turned to face me. “It’s fine. No big deal. I don't have to sleep on the floor. I'll sleep on the cot.” She tried to give me what looked like a reassuring smile as she handed me one of the key cards, but my hardened expression remained. “Come on, Owen. Let's make the best of it, okay? It's only for the weekend, and I promise I don't snore.”
Winking at me as I freed one of the cards from her hand, she patted me on the chest and brushed past me, heading in the direction of the elevators.
I turned my head, watching the sway of her hips and the sliver of exposed skin above the waistband of her jeans, the two small indents that rested above her ass at the base of her spine, and groaned inwardly.
Snoring was the least of my worries.
Riding the elevator quietly to the eighth floor, we navigated the hallways until we found our room. Stopping in front of the door, Elle slid her key card into the lock until we heard a tiny click and the light flashed green. She pushed the door open.
The room was large, as would be expected for an upscale hotel, and I got the impression Elle had never seen anything like it. She walked in, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly parted as she drank in the soft, plush carpet and the thick burgundy drapes covering the floor-to-ceiling windows. A small round table with two fine-leather chairs sat in one corner of the room, and the large king-sized bed, with oversized pillows and high thread count linens, sat in the center. To our immediate left was a huge bathroom, featuring a walk-in shower and separate jacuzzi tub, but the true focal point of the entire room was the large balcony which provided a spectacular view of downtown L.A. It drew her attention and her feet in its direction, her breath coming on a gasp as she soaked up its beauty.
“Wow. This is…” She slid open the glass balcony door and stepped out, the smile on her face warming the coldest parts of me. “This is amazing, Owen.”
I set my suitcase at the foot of the bed and walked the same path she’d taken, joining her outside. I didn’t like flying, but heights in general didn’t bother me, and of all the rooms we could have been assigned, I was glad it was this one.
Standing beside her, I dipped my chin at the same time she tilted her head to the side. Our eyes met, hers glimmering like shiny blue jewels under the warm afternoon sunshine. “Yeah…yeah, it is.”
I wanted to tell her that she made up the most mesmerizing part of the view, but I held my tongue. I watched as she took a couple steps forward and rested her hands on the stucco wall, peering over the side. After a moment, she closed her eyes, allowing her head to fall between her shoulders and her chest to rise on a deep inhale, as if she was taking it all in. Every trip I’d ever made to L.A. had been business related, and while we were here for that sole purpose, she already made it seem far less stressful. There was an air of peace and calm that surrounded this woman, which was odd because most days she was a walking disaster, but I quickly realized that going too long without it, without her beside me, had a negative effect on my mood.
I was happier when she was with me.
Much happier.
Keeping my thoughts to myself, I stood beside her, slightly envious she was falling in love with the place for the first time, or at least I assumed she was. “I take it you’ve never been to L.A. before?”
“No.” Elle laughed like the words leaving my mouth were borderline crazy. “This is my first time ever leaving the East Coast. I’m not much of a traveler. My journeys usually include direct flights from New York to Maine with an occasional connection in Rhode Island or Massachusetts.” She turned around and pressed her back against the balcony wall, folding her arms over her stomach. “I’m pretty well acquainted with their airports, though. So, if we ever travel through them, I’ll be sure to give you the twenty-five-cent tour.”
“Twenty-five-cent tour?” I lifted a brow. “Is that better than the ten-cent tour?”
Elle’s mouth kicked up in one corner. “Maybe.”
A smile of my own followed, and I gazed out at the skyline before turning back to look at her. “It’s a bit different from New York, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” She nodded gently, her lips pressing together the way they did whenever she was deep in thought. “You know, in New York there is always this sense of urgency. Everyone is in a hurry all the time. The only thing on their mind is getting to exactly where they need to be, and here…everyone, the atmosphere...it’s all so laid-back and relaxed. I mean, the traffic is still absolutely horrendous, but it’s almost as if failing to get to that interview on time isn’t the end of the world. Your life isn't dictated by the career title you hold or whether or not you’ll land that next contract or business deal. It’s nice. It makes you stand back and realize that maybe sometimes we need to stop and appreciate everything we have. Appreciate that we're alive and that we are here to experience it.”
Her words were loaded and, like many times before, hit me like a bullet straight to the chest, leaving me speechless. Our last unaccounted minutes of easy rapport dissipated like a quickly evaporating steam cloud, and we stood awkwardly, my hands in my pockets and her eyes on the ground. Eventually Elle laughed, breaking through the silence, but this time the beautiful sound seemed full of nervousness.
“Ha. You know what? Don’t listen to me. I’m so full of shit the toilet’s jealous.” The sun moved higher in the sky, and she squinted against its brightness, giving me a sideways glance as I attempted to hold in a laugh and failed. She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “I mean, what do I know? I’m just an outsider looking in, right?”
I didn’t reply to that, not because she wasn’t right but because her opinions about L.A. and New York didn’t matter. It was everything else that came out of her mouth that did. What she’d said was true. So true. “Maine, huh? Is that home?”
“No. New York is home. Maine is a place I grew up and tend to visit from time to time.”
“I imagine it must be really different.”
She nodded before twisting around and resting her arms back on the wall. “It is. I love it there, don’t get me wrong, but even when it was home, it never felt like home. If that makes sense.”
“It does, but why New York?”
“Well, because usually it’s L.A. or New York where dreams come true, isn’t it? New York just so happened to be closer.” We both smiled. “What about you? Has New York always been your home?”
“Born and raised. Couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”
“Huh. That’s why you’re so good at driving around the city.” She cast me a small smirk and continued. “Your parents, they still live there?”
I blew a breath out through pursed lips and nodded, the conversation heading in a direction I wasn't sure I wanted to visit. “Yeah, they do. My father, he, uh, he’s retired and spends most of his time locked in his library and reading, and my mom, well…I'm not really sure what she’s up to these days.”
“Do you not see them often?”
“Not really, no.” A painful sadness swept in, crushing my heart as I said the words, and I swallowed the lump of emotion lodged in my throat, my gaze focused on a building in the distance. “I made a decision three months ago to cut them off. It wasn’t an easy one to make, and every day I wonder if it was the right thing to do, but then I remember why I decided to do it in the first place and know it’s for the best.”
Elle remained quiet, and I wished she hadn’t because I was beginning to think I’d said too much, shared too much. Why I had even shared this bit of information with her was beyond me, but that was the thing with Elle. I found myself wanting to share parts of my life with her that I never shared with anyone else. I was opening up to her when I should have been closing her off like I’d done with the people closest to me.
I emitted a nervous laugh. “Wow. Way to ruin the mood, Owen.”
Wrapping her fingers around my arm, Elle turned me toward her. “Owen. Don’t—”
I stopped her, figuring there had been enough unnecessary telling for the time being. “Hey, listen. I have a meeting in about an hour, and it’s probably going to last a good portion of the day, so today is yours to do with as you please. The hotel has a pool, feel free to check that out, and if you’re hungry, there is a restaurant downstairs or you can order room service. Whichever you decide, have them add it to the room charge, okay?”
She pressed her lips together, and I didn't miss the disappointment that flashed across her expression. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight, then.”
Finding it difficult to walk away from her, I stood for a few more moments. What I wouldn’t give to be able to spend the day with her and not have to think or worry about work, but therein lay the problem. Work was my life. It had always been my life.
Giving her a militant nod, I took a few steps back, drinking in every ounce of her beauty and permanently embedding it into my memory before turning and walking out of the room, my hands in my pockets and my head bowed.
Fuck my goddamn life.