“Because he’s an idiot,” he said. Knowing it’d come to this. Knowing that she wanted love and a happily ever after. All the things Blake wasn’t built to give, even if he did want that.
“I think I’m the idiot,” she said.
He shook his head. Whatever mind game this asshole had done with her needed to stop. Blake was the last person to be hitting on her. But he wasn’t hitting on her. This was a friend going with another friend to a tropical island to have an adventure. This little excursion was temporary. It’d end. No attachment. He’d spend the week making sure she didn’t get caught up in a surfer douche with a lei, drinking too much. She could get over her ex and then he’d be on his way.
Protect her. Keep her safe. Not get involved.
But damn, the look in her eye was calling to him. He wanted to make her feel safe and calm. How she should have felt today. Despite all the seriously fucked-up reasons that was a bad idea.
“I just want to…” She trailed off and bit her lip to keep a short fearful gasp in as the airplane kicked into gear, picking up speed and barreling down the runway.
She gasped and leaned back, squeezing her eyes shut. And she did reach out with her other hand. For him.
“I want a distraction,” she said, and he didn’t know if she wanted a distraction from the plane taking off or the whole situation of the last few days. But he’d deliver. Because those soft little hands of hers were squeezing him. One on his thigh, the other his hand. He scooted closer.
“Just breathe,” he whispered against her ear. The wheels hit a bump in the runway and jolted them up then down. He had been on a plane so many times, even flew them, along with helicopters and gliders. But poor Carrie clearly didn’t care for air travel.
“You’re safe,” he said.
“How do you know?” she said between shaky breaths. “It’s not like you know everything is okay. The weather, the plane, anything could go wrong.”
“Ah, but I have a backup plan for everything.”
She peeked one eye open.
“How could that be?”
“I know what to look and listen for. The plane is totally fine. And the weather is calm; I checked before we boarded. And even if the worst happened, you’d still be fine.”
“How? By a prayer?”
“No,” he said, then made a psshh sound. “I’d take the bottom of your dress there, rip the netting stuff out, secure it with this blanket, and fashion a parachute from my shoelaces for both of us to jump and gently glide to safety.”
She smiled at that. “We’ll be over the ocean.”
“Which is why I’d also yank this from the hinges”—he knocked the tray on the seat in front of them—“and use it as a surf board.”
She let out a small giggle and relaxed just a tad. A light pink came back to her cheeks.
He was fast becoming a fan of the color, because the plane sped faster, two more breaths, one more bump, and the woman, with her eyes squeezed shut, was grabbing him like he really was some hero that could save her.
“A distraction?” he asked, needing to hear one more time that she needed him. Or rather, needed him to help.
“Yes, please, anything,” she begged, still gripping him hard.
He hated that flash of her lips. Hated that he liked the way her hands felt on him. He was an asshole, too, because if he was so set on protecting her, then the number one man he needed to keep an eye on was himself.
His brain was getting dangerously close to heading down to his dick. Coming off a busy fall season, he hadn’t had much time for his personal life, and he was hard up. But Carrie needed him. Was gorgeous, on display, ready to be saved…
Save her from myself.
And that’s exactly what he’d do.
…
Carrie hated takeoffs. Worst part of the flight.
With her eyes squeezed shut, she thought about the speed of the plane. Thought about Blake making up that ridiculous story of how he could fashion a parachute with her dress. But somewhere deep down, she believed him. He was capable. In ways that most men, like Kevin, weren’t. Today was a mess, and her body was screaming. From stress and anxiety, to need and desperation. The need for this to begin. The need for this to be over.