One second, I’d been focused on my first-class seats, ensuring passengers would have fresh blankets, eye masks, and complimentary earbuds for the flight. And the next, I was tripping over my heels because my brain forgot to instruct my feet how to walk.
It wasn’t my brain’s fault, though.
The sight before my unsuspecting eyes had been information overload. My brain had tried to understand, all synapses firing erratically in search of a rational explanation, but it was no use.
The shock and view of Quinn Bailey standing in the middle of the aisle had been too much to comprehend. I’d tripped on my own two feet, and had he not managed to catch me within the safety of his strong, firm arms, I would’ve been one step closer to becoming some kind of airplane lesbian—after eating the aisle carpet.
Holy hell, he was on my flight back to JFK?
I wasn’t sure if he was a mere mirage from too many flights and too little sleep, but I knew one thing for sure—he smelled crazy good.
His scent filtered into my nostrils, and instantly, like a kid trick-or-treating for candy on Halloween night, I wanted more.
Discreetly, I inched my nose toward his neck because I couldn’t stop myself from taking another inhale. A little spicy, a little sweet, the subtle scents of cinnamon and vanilla filled my olfactory senses. He smelled like heaven wrapped up in a giant red bow with a side of strong and alpha and one hundred percent man on the side.
There was no denying—even with just one good, hearty sniff on record—my pheromones were addicted to his pheromones.
With strong hands, he helped me back to my feet. Which was good. Standing was good. Only, standing meant looking, and looking meant saying, and, faced with those intoxicating blue eyes of his, I had no idea what to say.
Uh…hi?
What are you doing here…?
Sorry for falling into you like I’m Jennifer Lawrence at the Academy Awards…?
I needed the right words, but obviously, my brain wasn’t offering up anything of value. I think I was still in shock, but I guessed an unexpected visit from Quinn Bailey would do that to a girl—and I do mean any girl. His fans, his admirers, and then women like me—who had no idea about the public persona, but had been lucky enough to be charmed by the actual man.
He must have sensed my momentary speechlessness, and he hopped behind the driver’s seat and put our conversation back into gear.
“Are you okay? You didn’t hurt anything, did you?”
Hurt anything? From what?
The fall, you idiot! my brain shouted, for once, thinking rationally again.
Oh, shit. Right. I’d literally just fallen into him like a sack of fucking potatoes. Not to mention the confetti of airplane blankets I’d tossed out on the way down.
“I’m fine,” I said, and a self-deprecating smile crested one corner of my mouth. “Thanks to your quick hands.”
He winked. “You know, funnily enough, that isn’t the first time I’ve heard that.”
“Um…can I get through?” a passenger standing behind Quinn caught my attention.
I glanced over his shoulder and realized there was a line of people waiting to file on to the plane.
Dear God. It was like I’d completely forgotten where the hell I was.
“Oh, man,” Quinn muttered and quickly moved out of the aisle and into row three, where his seat must have been located. “Sorry about that.”
“So sorry for the delay,” I apologized to the slightly irritated man standing at the front of the passenger line. “I had a little bit of a fall in the aisle.”
The man just shrugged and offered a small grunt of acceptance, and then proceeded to shuffle his white Reebok trainers down the aisle, past the first-class curtains, until he reached his seat in the first few rows of coach.
While the rest of our passengers filed on to the plane, I couldn’t stop myself from stealing a glance in Quinn’s direction.
3A. That was where he’d be for the duration of the flight.
For a brief moment, his eyes met mine. They were soft and warm and that perfect shade of blue that if you painted a room inside your house that very same color, it would only provide feelings of serenity and comfort.
And his gaze whispered promises of more to come.
I was entranced, and it took all of my willpower to break the hold and get back to work, my first order of business being the mess of blankets I’d thrown across the seats.
Holy moly, this flight was about to be very, very interesting.
The wheels of the cart shook as we reached the final row of coach. With me driving and Casey pulling the back end, we worked to finish up our complimentary drink and snack service.
Yes, I was supposed to be running the show in first class during this flight, but the fact that Quinn was sitting in row three, seat A, had urged me to keep myself as busy as humanly possible over the past two hours.
I still couldn’t believe he was on my flight. Again.
And I definitely didn’t trust myself to stay in first class and be so close to him. I feared he was too much of a distraction for me to actually do my job if I had to constantly see his handsome face.
Although, I’d spent the majority of the flight trying to understand exactly why Quinn was on my flight.
I could have sworn, when we’d been talking on the train in the wee hours of the morning, he’d told me his flight home was tomorrow. Didn’t he? God, I couldn’t remember.
But if that were true, that would mean he’d purposefully situated himself on this flight, my flight. Had that been what he’d meant by his “Don’t worry, we’ll talk later” text?
No way that was possible…right?
“Would you two like something to drink or eat, sir?” I asked the blond gentleman keeping his preschool-age daughter occupied with a movie on an iPad.
“I want a cookie, daddy!” the little one shouted. Her blond curls bounced off of her shoulders as she looked up at me expectantly.
“What about a chocolate chip cookie?” I asked with a smile. “How does that sound?”
She reached out with both hands and wiggled her fingers around. “Ohhh, gimme! Gimme!”
“Don’t forget to say please and thank you, Lucy,” her father scolded with an apologetic smile in my direction.
“Gimme, pease and thank you!”
I couldn’t not laugh at her manner faux pas, and I set a plastic-wrapped cookie on her tray. “What about something to drink?”
“She’ll take some orange juice, and I’ll have a Coke.”
“Coming right up.” I pulled out two cans that matched their orders from my drink drawer, and their glasses were filled halfway a moment later. Carefully, I set their beverages on their trays just as Casey served his last passenger on the right side of the plane.
And thank God for the passengers. I knew as sure as I knew my own name that, had it not been for their presence, Casey would have been six miles deep into his Quinn Bailey interrogation by now. As it was, he’d only had time to give me precursory looks—the ones that usually came directly before the questions—before getting interrupted.
Once we secured the cart back in the galley, I headed toward the front of the plane to take over first class from Nikki—and get away from Casey—as fast as my heels would take me. Casey’s arched brow promised future retribution.
“Everything okay?” Nikki asked, and I could feel her assessing every inch of my face.
Shit. They’re coming at me from both sides.
“Yep,” I responded and busied myself with cleaning out the coffee machine. “Just figured I’d give your feet a break and keep Casey entertained for a bit in coach.”
Nikki quirked a brow but didn’t say anything.
No doubt, I’d be receiving some questions via group text later tonight.
How in the hell was I supposed to explain that the famous quarterback in first class was someone I knew? After parting ways at the train station the way we had, with a mob of fans landing on Quinn like he was as sticky as glue, I’d decided to withhold from my friends. Normally, talking about new guys, new underwear, and new dreams were all things deserving of an immediate overanalysis among friends. But this felt scarier and less realistic than any other normal meet-cute. And the thought of talking about it made me feel vulnerable.
Frankly, it’d be easier to tell my friends I was resigning from my position at RoyalAir to take a job with NASA as a space rocket stewardess.
I glanced over my shoulder to find Quinn looking straight toward me.
Like, direct eye contact.
I smiled. Or at least, I think I smiled.
I might have looked constipated.
He returned the awkward sentiment, only he did it well.
Vivid blue eyes, soft yet firm cheeks, a strong jaw, and a fantastic fucking smile that instantly put you at ease and practically charmed you right out of your panties at the same time. That smile, those full lips, and his perfect white teeth were a dangerous combo, that was for fucking sure.
Once the seat belt sign turned back on, Captain Billy announced our impending landing, notifying the passengers and staff to finish up whatever they were doing and prepare for our final destination: New York City.
Nikki, Casey, and I spent the last twenty minutes of the flight cleaning up both galleys, collecting trash, and rechecking our passengers for buckled seat belts, upright trays and seats, and stowed away luggage. And with a little resourcefulness, I made sure I was doing it wherever I needed to be to avoid Casey’s cross-examination.
At four minutes past noon, Captain Billy eased us out of the sky, and our wheels touched down on JFK’s tarmac. The brakes engaged with their familiar squeal, and our aircraft kissed the ground gracefully. Billy had been flying planes for twenty plus years and consistently proved the more experience a pilot had under his belt, the more enjoyable the overall flight was for its passengers.
In my short stint on this job, I’d quickly learned that he was one of the best.
“Welcome to New York,” he announced through the overhead speakers as we taxied toward our gate. “Weather at our destination is a warm eighty degrees with some broken clouds, but don’t worry, they’ll try to have them fixed before we reach the gate.” I could literally hear the smile in his voice.
Between Billy and Casey, I didn’t know who was trying harder to turn our intercom system into their own personal stand-up comedy routine.
“We’d like to thank you folks for flying with us today,” Casey added into the beige phone on the wall in front of the cockpit. “And the next time you get the insane urge to go blasting through the skies in a pressurized metal tube, we hope you’ll think of us here at RoyalAir.”
“Oh,” Captain Billy interrupted, “And remember, the last one on the plane has to clean it.”
I watched as a few passengers glanced around the cabin at each other, smiles and soft laughter on their amused lips.
Casey cackled and banged his hand against the cockpit door with two swift movements. “Please ignore him,” he corrected into the intercom through a soft chuckle, and Captain Billy’s responding laugh permeated all the way through the metal door.
“Actually, our pilot will be the one cleaning the plane after we land.”
Of course, my flight attendant bestie wasn’t finished giving his ending spiel.
“It is important that everyone remains seated until Captain Comedian turns off the seat belt light. And once we reach our gate, and as you exit the plane, please make sure to gather all of your belongings. Anything left behind will be distributed evenly among the flight attendants. Please do not leave children or spouses.”
Immediately, more chuckles filled the cabin as we pulled up to the gate.
Nikki and I glanced at each other from opposite ends of the plane. She rolled her eyes with a grin, and my answering facial expression was identical to hers.
I often wondered if one day we’d be called into a meeting with our CEO regarding the constant supply of jokes through the overhead speakers. If it ever happened, you bet your ass I’d sing like a canary.
Kidding. Well, sort of. It’d probably depend on how much money Billy and Casey paid me to keep my mouth shut.
“Let’s rock and roll,” Casey whispered once he finished up having fun with the intercom. “I’d like to be off this plane in no less than ten minutes once we hit the gate.”
“Hot date?” Nikki questioned, and he just waggled his eyebrows in response.
“Tell me it’s that adorable gate agent from Allied Air.” I grinned, and internally, I was thankful his attention was otherwise diverted from asking me about Quinn.
Casey’s responding grin was carnal.
“It’s definitely the guy from Allied,” Nikki whispered toward me, but loud enough for him to hear, and then purposefully poked Casey in the chest with her index finger. “You better tell us everything. Or else.”
“Or else what?” Casey questioned with a hand to his hip.
“Or else you can expect an all-out catfight,” I chimed in.
If I just kept him talking about the hot guy from Allied Air, he’d completely forget to ask me about Quinn.
“And why is Cat allowed to keep secrets about male suitors and I’m not?”
His question was like a needle straight to my hope balloon.
“What?” I barked out with a shocked laugh. “Male suitors? I don’t have any male suitors.”
“You totally do,” Nikki corrected, and Casey’s smirk turned wicked, knowing far too much information.
“I do not,” I denied anyway.
“Girl,” she started, dragging out the word with an exaggerated tone. “I’ve been watching you acting weird for the last two flights. Constantly checking your phone, getting giddy as hell over text messages, switching cabins with me for no reason. Something is up with you,” she said and flipped my hair. “But don’t worry, we’ll give you a little space until you’re ready to tell us all about him.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Are you sure about that?” Casey asked, and I kind of wanted to strangle him.
But luckily, Nikki hadn’t caught on, still completely out of the Quinn Bailey loop.
“I expect to hear all of the details from both you by our next flight to Birmingham,” she demanded with a smirk. “Lord knows, after being married to the same man for thirty years with grown-ass kids who are currently in college, I need to experience some sort of excitement, even if it’s through your lives.”
“Oh, I bet Mr. Miller knows how to bring it, sista,” Casey teased, and Nikki laughed in response.
Praise Marty Miller and his thirty-year power of distraction.
“The only time Mr. Miller stays up late and brings it is when the Yankees are playing. Other than that, dinner is at seven, and he’s in bed by eight.”
“Oh, honey.” Casey smacked his lips together. “We need to get you out during our next layover in Birmingham.”
“Count me in,” she agreed as the plane came to a stop and the seat belt light went out. “Now, let’s get these people off this plane so I can go home and take a nap.”
“Let’s do it!” Casey cheered and snapped his fingers in the air three times. “You girls say bye to everyone with Billy, and I’ll finish cleaning up the galley.”
“I can clean up the galley,” I offered, but he wasn’t having it.
He gave me a look and then pointedly glanced directly toward first class, seat 3A, to be specific. “Honey, the passengers would much rather see your pretty face standing up at the front than mine.”
By passengers, he meant Quinn.
I knew, without a doubt, Casey would be watching me like a rabid dog when Mr. Quarterback himself walked toward the exit.
The little Mariah Carey-loving traitor.
Awkwardly, I stood near the exit doors and waited. There weren’t but eight people seated in front of him, all already up and exiting the plane, but Quinn took his time pulling down his carry-on from the overhead bin and walking toward me. With the people in front of him all cleared out, I had an unobstructed view.
My fingers tapped nervously against my hip, and my brain raced with a million thoughts at once.
Oh God. Is he going to say something?
Is this going to get weird?
Am I going to blurt out something inappropriate?
My lungs constricted from the anxiety of it all.
“Great flight,” he said with a gentlemanly smile. “Thanks for everything.” His eyes held mine for an extra second, but to my surprise, he didn’t offer anything else before walking off the plane and out of my life.
Well, shit, that had gone a lot better than I’d thought.
Or worse, my mind taunted. Maybe he isn’t interested in me.
My stomach might as well have hit the tops of my heels. I didn’t like that thought. Not one fucking bit. And I wasn’t sure what that said about me.
Was I already too hopeful about the whole Quinn Bailey situation?
I barely knew the guy, and I’d thought I’d kept any flighty musings about kismet and love under control. Clearly, the calibration of my self-awareness was a little off. Too bad resetting it was a little more complicated than the figure eight motion the compass on my iPhone required.
God, I need to get it together.
After a long, deep breath, I forced my focus to the tasks at hand—cleaning up the plane and getting the hell home.
Ten minutes later, I watched Casey and Nikki walk off the plane, bags in hands and smiles on their faces, and five minutes after that, I followed their lead.
At the end of the gate ramp, my heels skidded to a stop.
Quinn Bailey.
He stood, tall and confident and beautiful as ever, just outside of our gate and looking straight in my direction. All the while, he quickly signed some autographs for fans standing around him.
I wasn’t sure seeing him sign autographs and being fawned over by complete strangers was something I could ever get used to.
But did anyone really get used to that? I silently wondered. Even the celebrities themselves?
I didn’t know the answer to those questions. Growing up in the suburbs of Cincinnati with a middle-class family, I’d never been faced with celebrity or fame.
Quinn’s gaze moved toward mine, and once our eyes locked, he smiled.
As I forced my feet to move toward him, he signed one last autograph, took one last selfie, and politely excused himself from the small crowd, saying goodbye to his fans.
It took a minute for his path to clear and people to leave him on his own, but once it did, he met me halfway.
“You waited for me?” I blurted out, and immediately, I wanted to slap a hand over my mouth.
But he didn’t falter at my question, his full lips turning up at the corners and his blue eyes brightening by two shades. “I did,” he answered and slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Rocking back and forth on his feet, he asked, “Want to get lunch?”
“I can’t,” I blurted out…again. But this time, it was with a lie.
Ever so slightly, the corners of his lips dropped.
Instantly, I felt like an asshole. “I have to get home,” I added lamely in an attempt to soften the blow I’d just delivered.
Good Lord, I sucked at this.
I had no idea why I’d lied, or why I’d avoided him on the plane like a toddler, but both just felt necessary in the moment. Like, self-preservation had taken over or something. I wasn’t too fond of the hopefulness I’d been feeling about the possibility of some sort of relationship with Quinn. It all felt a little too fast for comfort.
And, if I was being honest, I was still a little overwhelmed by the fact that he was some uberfamous football player.
It was a complete one-eighty from the type of life I’d imagined he led when I’d first spotted him on that initial flight. I’d just thought he was a normal, everyday kind of guy. Well, a really amazing-looking, normal, everyday kind of guy. But that was neither here nor there.
He is just a guy, Cat. One who appears pretty damn determined to spend more time with you.
Quinn assessed my face for a quiet moment, his eyes inquisitively taking in my features until he quirked a brow. “Boyfriend?”
“No.” I shook my head, an amused smile playing at my lips. The fact that he was inquiring about my relationship status made me want to laugh like a lunatic. I dismissed the reaction with force.
“Husband?”
“Definitely not.” A quiet laugh escaped my lips. Not a whole giggle; just a little squeak of crazy. “My work schedule is too insane for that. The closest thing I’ve got to a husband or boyfriend is my ficus. But he does need regular maintenance.”
“I’m also unattached,” he offered with a soft, knowing smile. “I can relate to the crazy work schedule sentiment.”
Unattached? I found it hard to believe he didn’t have someone in his life. Or many someones, for that matter.
“Yeah, but you’re probably seeing someone on like Fridays, Saturdays…”
“I’m a single guy, Cat,” he responded with charm oozing from his voice. “Obviously, I find the time to enjoy female companionship, but I can tell you once preseason training starts, I generally only find time for football.”
“When does preseason start?”
“It started in May.”
It was July…
My eyes went wide with surprise. For a man who only found time for football during the season, he sure appeared to have a lot of free time to track me down today.
“Walk out with me?” he asked with a little nod toward the exit.
“Okay.”
He grabbed my carry-on out of my hands and led us away from our gate and toward the terminal exit.
For a few quiet moments, we walked side by side, sneaking glances at one another, and occasionally, when our eyes would meet, sharing smiles.
God, I loved that smile of his.
“Since you’re refusing to have lunch with me,” he said once we reached baggage claim, “and you were noticeably absent during the flight…” I blushed at the way he said that like he knew it wasn’t a coincidence. “I’m demanding you share a cab ride home with me.”
Considering that RoyalAir provided all of its NYC metro area flight attendants a free shuttle service home, I never took cab rides from the airport.
But I didn’t want to tell Quinn that. I’d already reached my lie quota for the day.
Hell, I was starting to regret declining his lunch offer so quickly.
“So, you’re demanding that I share a cab with you?” I asked in a teasing tone.
“I just want to spend some time with you.” He shrugged and ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair. “Pretty please?”
He held out his hand, and I took it. The warmth of his palm and the way his big hand engulfed mine only solidified my decision. Being in his presence just made me feel so fucking good.
Next thing I knew, we stood in front of the taxi line, still hand in hand, and I was letting our driver know the address to my house. Quinn hadn’t offered an address of his own, but he hadn’t seemed inconvenienced either. Maybe he lives in Hoboken too?
I started to ask, but the feel of Quinn’s hand on my hip, pulling me gently to the side robbed me of any and all speech capability.
He offered a wink as he swung open the door and helped me inside the cab while our driver filled the trunk with our luggage.
Not even a minute later, we were off, heading in the direction of my place. A million questions fought for supremacy in my mind, but in the end, only one came out victorious.
“So,” I started and flicked my gaze toward him, “you’re the quarterback for the Mavericks?”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “I guess I’ve been caught, huh?”
Incredulous, a small burst of giggles fell from my lips. “Uh… You didn’t think that was something you should’ve maybe mentioned?”
He shrugged. “You said you weren’t interested in sports.”
I looked out the taxi window as fondness threatened to make me do something foolish.
Wasn’t interested in sports?
The times…they were about to be changing.