She backed up a bit, but he wasn’t letting her get away scot-free.
‘You’re quite a piece of work, aren’t you, chica?’ he drawled.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘There are fourteen people in First Class today,’ he spelt out. ‘Your name isn’t written on the plane and the cabin crew aren’t your personal galley slaves. How about cutting us all some slack?’
Her eyes fell away from his. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she mumbled. ‘Now, move, why don’t you?’
It was all he needed. ‘Make me.’
Her chin came up and her rosebud of a mouth dropped open.
He was slightly surprised himself. He didn’t, as a rule, hassle women. Especially silly little girls who needed to grow up.
For a moment he thought those big brown eyes were going to fill with ready tears. She certainly seemed on the brink of something.
So he moved.
Just.
She made a very French ‘ouf’ sound of disapproval, averted her face and stalked back to her seat. Once more in charge of herself. Self-interest on two legs.
Only then she ruined it with an almost furtive look back over her shoulder, as if to make sure he wasn’t following her.
The first finger of doubt touched his shoulder.
He’d made a few hard conclusions drawn from not much.
But life had taught him to pay attention to what people told you by their actions, not their words.
She had barely reached her seat when he heard her give a soft cry.
Alejandro turned—fast.
‘Non, leave those things alone!’
He relaxed, a little surprised at his own reflexes when he didn’t even like the woman. She was back to making everyone’s life a misery.
She followed this up with a hushed volley of what sounded like furious French, but she was speaking so fast it was hard to tell. And all of it was directed at the poor steward, who was tidying up the clutter she had accumulated around her.
Heads emerged into the aisle.
Alejandro swung back into his seat and checked his phone. He was done with her.
There was a message from the groom.
Change in plans. Do me a favour and pick up a bridesmaid on your way in. Answers to Lulu Lachaille. Exiting Flight 338 at Gate Four. She’s precious cargo. If you lose her, Gigi will cut off my balls and call off the wedding.
Alejandro briefly considered texting back no, even as he kissed his peaceful drive goodbye. Weddings were his worst nightmare. Spending four hours in a car with a chatty little bridesmaid didn’t exactly float his boat.
Although the bridal party was bound to be stocked with leggy showgirls, so it might not be that bad…
Dios.
He stuck his head out into the aisle, only to find that the French Miss was leaning out too.
She had the open, hopeful expression of a cartoon princess awaiting aid from one of her magical creatures.