Chapter 4
Colt
If I’ve ever held a preconceived notion about another human being, this supermodel chick standing in front of me just assured that I never will again. Who knew that underneath those soft curves, flowing hair, and pillowy lips lay razor sharp edges and nerves made of jagged metal?
It’s kind of a turn on.
Except that I’ve sworn off women. It’s only been a few hours, but I’m already getting tired of reminding myself.
“I’m pretty sure you made that girl cry the way she ran out of here so fast. You even scared me a little.” Even though I’m still tired and really wish people would stop waking me up, I raise an eyebrow at her and force back a smile for the second time in as many hours.
She plops down beside me, taking extra care to slam me in the shoulder. “You should have paid more attention instead of letting her sit here. I get that she was pretty, but honestly—”
“I was asleep.” I give her a look. “I have no idea what she looked like.” Trying to recall a vision of her in my sleep-deprived mind, something quickly surfaces that I can’t help but say out loud. “Though I did get a halfway decent view of her butt when she walked away, and I’ve got to say—”
“Men.” She sighs loud enough for the whole place to hear.
“No, she was most definitely a woman. One hundred percent certifiably female.”
“You’re a pig. First the comment about my underwear, and now her. The poor girl doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment from you, even if she isn’t here to hear it.”
“Says the lady who made her run screaming from the room. She’s probably in the bathroom right now, contemplating killing herself as she dry heaves over the toilet.”
After a brief pause, she scrunches her eyebrows and pulls her lower lip between her teeth, looking genuinely worried. Not to mention freaking adorable. It’s all I can do not to kiss her when she looks my way with wide doe eyes, like she’s just broken her mother’s oldest china plate, and she can’t decide whether to be scared or ashamed.
“Now I feel bad,” she says. “Do you think I should go find her and apologize?”
I shake my head. “No, I think she’s fine. She actually looked more like she wanted to scratch your eyes out than cry. You seem to have that effect on people. I’ve only known you a few minutes, and I’ve already wanted to punch you twice. Maybe three times…”
Beside me, I hear her lips pop on a smile. “Touché. Starting now, I’ll try to be nicer.”
My insides flip around a little at the words, and something tells me then that I might have trouble keeping my resolve in check. I like tough women. I like gentle women even more. But the combination of both…
Still, she’ll have to convince me before I’ll believe she can pull off being nice.
“Starting now, I’ll try to believe you.” I laugh when an elbow slams me in the ribs. The man across from us levels a death glare my direction, but instead of lobbing one back, I settle against the wall and work on going back to sleep.
* * *
“I need a toothbrush.”
And this is what I wake up to three hours later. She’s not kidding, she needs one. And mouthwash. Now.
“What time is it?” I sigh and run my hands through my hair, my back sore from all this floor sitting, my head pounding from trying to sleep against drywall.
“It’s almost seven. I need a toothbrush.”
Even though I know better, I let my face contort into a grimace. “Yes you do, and please don’t say another word until you use it. Do you have one in your bag?”
A shadow of guilt crosses her eyes, such a brief spot of blackness that, if I hadn’t been looking right at her, I would have missed it. But I didn’t. Because of course I was looking at her. Despite morning breath, this chick is hot.
“No, I didn’t think to pack one in here. As we speak, all my toiletries are underneath the stupid plane.”
This puzzles me. She’s a supermodel. I’ve seen her face on the cover of Glamour, Vogue, Maxim, and Sports Illustrated this year alone. Isn’t looking pretty her main goal in life? And before you go questioning my manhood, knowing this crap is part of my job. Still, this doesn’t solve her problem.
“You don’t have any make-up?”
“No.”
“Shampoo?”
She shakes her head.
“Deodorant?”
“Don’t have any of that either.”
That springs me into action. “This qualifies as an emergency. I’ve already been forced to deal with your attitude. I’m drawing the line at your bad smell.” I stand and pull her to her feet, purposefully looking over her head to avoid the amused smile turning up her lips. I’ve already seen that smile twice. A third might be my undoing. What kind of resolve lasts less than a day? Only a spineless idiot would cave this early. You’re done with women! Maybe if I start yelling it to myself it will be more convincing.
“Alright, let’s go find you a toothbrush. And God help us, some Lady Speed Stick. The last thing this place needs is another passenger with B.O.”
“I don’t have B.O.” But I see the sniff she gives herself. “Do I?”
I say nothing, just lead her out of the throng of prone passengers, and wait for her to catch up in the aisle. The bag she insists on keeping with her is causing all kinds of problems, and even though it’s small, it looks pretty heavy. The moaning and groaning coming from her was my first clue. I would offer to help, but something else tells she would refuse. I’m not sure what’s inside that thing.—Gold? A wedding dress? Bomb-making materials? Whatever it is, she seems pretty protective of it. Finally, she reaches my side and surprises me with a question.
“What’s your name, by the way? Doesn’t seem fair that you know mine, and I’m still completely clueless about yours.”
I forgot I hadn’t told her. “It’s Colton.” I shrug, trying to appear casual. “Colton Ross. I go by Colt.” Without meaning to but doing it anyway because it’s always the way I react when I tell someone my name for the first time, I hold my breath. And then she does the one thing I was hoping she wouldn’t do. Her head tilts to the side in contemplation, the way someone does when they think they know the answer to a test but are one fact off from getting it right. She’ll get it eventually. It’s the eventually that makes me dread the future.
She frowns and shakes her head. “Nice to meet you, Colt. Even though you insulted my hygiene.”
The breath I’m holding releases. “True enough. But funny thing—I actually don’t know your name.”
She stops walking and looks at me. “You don’t?”
“Nope, the times I’ve seen you before, I’ve always been too busy staring at your…beautiful face to remember anything else. Though I’m sure your name is the prettiest part about you.”
The eye roll she gives is just short of convulsion-level. In the few hours I’ve known her—most spent napping—this happens at a frequent rate. Not that I don’t deserve her irritation. I’m well-aware I’m being a smartass. Besides, I actually remember her name. I just want to hear her say it.
“It’s Rory. Rory Gray. And my friends call me Rory because there’s really no practical way to shorten it.”
“Roar? Because you have the temper of a lioness in heat?” I offer. The smartmouth thing comes naturally.
“No.” She raises a don’t-mess-with-me eyebrow. “Not that I haven’t heard this before, so next time come up with something original. Where are we going? And what does a lioness in heat sound like, anyway?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, google it. We’re going to the VIP lounge, against my will. But you need a toothbrush and some emergency odor killer, so unless you want to shoplift at one of these kiosks I don’t think we have a choice.” I nod toward a stand filled with newspapers, magazines, and stacks of granola bars. I don’t see any deodorant or I might actually lift some. Anything to help the cause.
“Oh, good idea.” She perks up, sounding relieved and almost excited about the prospect. I really wish she wouldn’t. She might like the lounge, but I have no intention of staying there past the customary thirty seconds it takes to grab supplies and maybe an apple or two. The past is in the past, at least until I get home. Even then, if I have any say in the matter.
Once we walk inside the room though, it’s clear she has other ideas.