Brad manages to get us to LAX, and we’re rushed through ticketing, security and at the gate. Everything is a breeze, and I’m thinking to myself, damn, I got this. I’m a foreign princess, bitches. Step aside.
That is until we’re boarding the plane and all hell breaks out. We take our seats in first class where there are two seats in the middle and two more behind it. Wouldn’t you guess, but my seat is next to Shade’s and though I really want to sit next to him, I’m worried about Tiller and Roan sitting next to one another. It could end in bloodshed.
As soon as they sit down, and I do mean the instant they take their seats, a flight attendant has Shade cornered for a picture, and Roan says something under his breath to Tiller.
I don’t know what it is, but it pisses Tiller off, and he shoves him into me, which then shoves me into Shade, who had apparently been standing behind me.
Lucky for me being a pinball in first class, Shade catches me, his hands on my waist. “You okay?”
I nod, my heart thumping in my chest like a heavy weight. His hands are on my forearms while I right my feet underneath me and straighten my posture. I look down at his hands and the tattoos covering them. Across his knuckles are the words Open Book.
I snort. Yeah right. A man wearing sunglasses 90 percent of the time being considered an open book is actually laughable.
Shade’s hands slide from my arms, dropping to his side and I move away, separating myself from him about the time Tiller and Roan are going at it again.
I can’t believe these two.
“I don’t know why you’re making a big deal out of this!” Tiller shouts, glaring at his brother. “You want to fuck her, then fuck her. You don’t, then go fuck yourself because I don’t care at this point. Get out of my face.”
Tiller takes a seat, huffs out a breath and then lights a fucking cigarette. Shit you not. I didn’t even know he smokes, but as he draws in a breath filled with smoke, it’s apparent he does.
I lean over the seat, my ass in the air, and rip it out of his mouth. “Are you trying to get us kicked off the plane?”
His vicious glare turns to me, and my once tough façade wilts under the devil known as Tiller Sawyer. “Yes. I don’t like to fly, and you motherfuckers make me. All the time.”
He attempts to take his cigarette back, but I hold it up in the air. I stare at him like he’s lost his mind. He has. He seems to thrive on being a shithead and causing chaos. “You fly through the air on a dirt bike, but you don’t like to be on a plane?”
“On a bike, I’m in control.” He points out. “I like control. Up here, my life is in someone else’s hands.”
“Whatever.” I point my finger in his face. “Why are you provoking Roan?”
“He started it.” He drops his raging stare to his phone, losing interest but mumbles, “I have infinite hate in my blood.”
Ain’t that the fucking truth.
That same flight attendant who flirted with Shade moments ago makes her way back to Tiller and Roan, and I watch as Shade furrows his eyebrows at her, but says nothing. He takes his seat, still wearing his sunglasses, masking his actual expression behind them.
Watching the three of them, I almost feel bad I was such a fan girl. I fell into the same trap as they did and didn’t think of them as individuals. I thought of them for what they’re portrayed as. No one really knows who they are because they can’t be those guys. Women throw themselves at these guys, and you can see it in their eyes, they know you don’t give a shit about them. I see them battling through their daily lives and can’t fathom what they’re going through.
Maybe that’s why he never takes his sunglasses off?
FOR THE FIRST three hours of the flight, Shade sleeps next to me with his earbuds in. I’m too nervous to sleep and obsessively go over their schedule for the next few days and drinking wine. It’s free. Why not?
Their schedule isn’t as bad as I originally assumed it’d be. A couple of meet and greets and then the event in the streets of Paris.
“You worked at the hotel, right?”
At the sound of his voice, I jump and spill my wine in hand all over the front of me.
Holy shit! Why didn’t you warn me he woke up?
Nodding, I swallow in an attempt to clear my voice, knowing if I spoke right away, it’d be all squeaky and weird. I nod. “Yes.” And we had sex. I don’t say that last part.
Shade tips his head the direction of my tits covered in wine, but the sunglasses remain in place, shielding my view of his baby blues. “What’s your story?
He’s having a conversation with me? “What?”
Raising his hand, he motions around the plane. “What led you to this?”
“Oh uh, well I didn’t have anything tying me to Seattle, so I thought it’d be a good opportunity.”
“No family?”
“Nope. Dad’s gone. Mom’s in Vegas I think. Not much else.”
He nods, twisting his earbuds around between his fingers, the phone in his other hand. It’s then, probably because he started talking to me first, my mouth decides it can’t shut the fuck up.
“What about your parents?” Stupid question Scarlet. You know the answer to this one. Give me a break though, I panicked.
He sighs, a heavy inhale, then exhale. “That’s kind of a public story. My mom might be with yours in Vegas. I don’t really know. Dad died when I was younger.”
“I knew that,” I admit softly, staring at my drying shirt. It’s a good thing I wore a dark-colored shirt to mask the wine. But then again, I only drink white wine. Less of a mess that way because guess who spills everything? This girl.
“Why’d you ask then?” Shade asks, seeming annoyed now as he shifts around in his seat next to me.
“Not sure. What got you into racing, your dad?” See what I mean? Rapid fire. I’m actually trying to stop myself by drinking the rest of my wine, but it doesn’t work because it’s now gone.
“It’s in my blood,” he answers, his attention now on the window.
“What’s your favorite food?”
This one earns me a chuckle, and he actually looks over at me. Probably wondering who this crazy person is seated next to him. “What?”
I offer a smile, twirling my hair around my finger nervously. “I need to know personal things about you if I’m going to do my job properly.”
He glances over at me. “I’m not that interesting.”
Our eyes catch. He lowers his sunglasses a fraction of an inch. “I think you are.”
“I like shrimp,” he mumbles.
“Are you allergic to anything?”
“Drugs and liars.”
Would keeping the fact that we slept together already and I took the job because I think you need me be considered a lie?
Maybe don’t ask that part, Scarlet.
“Noted.” No, really, I actually write it down in my notebook.
He snorts. “Are you seriously writing this down?”
“I’m learning?” Yep. Totally came out like a question.
“Just search the Internet.” His attention drifts back to the window, flipping his phone around in his hand. “I’m sure there are stories out there to give you everything you want to know about me.”
Oh believe me, I know already. I’ve done my research. “I’d like to hear it from you. That’s the Shade you want them to see. I’d like to know the one sitting here with me.”
Reaching up, he adjusts his sunglasses, cutting off my view of him. “That makes two of us. I don’t even know who that is. Enough questions.”
“Okay, but one more—”
He puts his hand over my mouth and shakes his head. “Listen, I’m not really into this rapid-fire question me bullshit. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to talk.” And then he hands me his earbud, just one of them. Or rather places it in my ear and hits Play on his phone.
The song?
The Black Keys “All You Ever Wanted.”
Take a look at him. He’s not looking, but now’s a good time because I’m staring at him. I can’t help it with the meaningful lyrics floating through the earbuds.
Watching his index and middle finger tap to the beat of the drum against his thigh, I know I’m screwed. Literally. I’m going to fall in love with him. Not like the Instagram love I’d had before, but the deep shit. I can already feel the bubbles of infatuation bursting inside my chest. Goddamn him.
But guess what?
There’s more to the man behind the shades.