Claim My Baby (Crescent Cove 2)

“I’m not some hippie,” he muttered, sitting back and pulling out a tablet. He immediately began to type with his thumbs.

Conversation over. Okay then.

I leaned toward Lumberjack. “Don’t mind his manners,” I whispered. “He’s new to the friend thing.”

“I heard that,” Oliver said without looking up. “Should I cling to your arm too to show our friendship?”

Reluctantly, I let go of Lumberjack. He was nice and sturdy to hang onto.

Good thing we were about to take off. I was ready for that drink.

The requisite pre-flight warnings were recited and I listened with rapt attention to the various safety checks mentioned. So exciting. I couldn’t wait to put all of this in my memory planner once I was back home. Oh, picture! I’d almost forgotten in my exuberance.

Tugging out my phone, I snapped pictures of the inside of the plane, including one of Lumberjack, who smiled widely. When I turned the phone toward Oliver, his glower was enough to have me lowering it.

I’d just substitute a picture of Oscar The Grouch in his trash can for Oliver.

Sighing, I tucked away my cell. The lights went down and I put on my seat belt, prepared for liftoff. Thi

s would be the fun part. Once we were in the air, I’d have to take out my backup sweater from my bag for my legs. It was awfully chilly in here.

A thunderous rolling sound filled the plane and my stomach heaved, falling approximately to my knees. I screeched and grabbed an arm, except this time it wasn’t Lumberjack’s.

“Oh my God, what is that? Turbulence?”

Oliver’s chuckle would’ve infuriated me if I could fully process it through the roar in my head. “You can’t have turbulence until you’re in the air.”

Stay calm. Stay chill. Millions of people do this every day.

The floor seemed to shake under my feet and I gave up all pretense of being relaxed. I buried my face in Oliver’s shoulder and let out a whimper.

To my utter shock, he cupped the back of my head in his large hand and stroked my hair, saying softly to Lumberjack, “First-time flyer.”

Lumberjack replied something that sounded like “lucky you” before another rumble occurred and some definite whooshing. I could tell we were rising because my belly was flopping like a landed trout, but Oliver’s caresses on my hair were surprisingly soothing.

“Just another minute or two and we’ll level out.”

I didn’t say anything, since I was still clinging and hiding my eyes like a terrified child. No doubt about it, this would mortify me later, but right now? I was quite enjoying being nestled up against Oliver.

Must be the adrenaline drop after my fight-or-flight response. Also, he smelled really freaking fabulous. How had I never noticed before?

Granted, I’d never had my nose buried in his clothing before—and pressed against firm, rippling muscle—but still. The scent was an intriguing mix of cedar that reminded me of the closet in my room at home, soap, and the light tang of clean sweat, all layered with some high-end musky cologne. Delicious.

Damn near edible, if I wasn’t in the midst of a panic attack.

The plane seemed to level out at about the same time his hand stopped moving over my hair. “Are you sniffing me?” he asked against my ear.

His warm breath ruffled my hair and a shiver moved through me that had nothing to do with the drafty plane. What was wrong with me? I never reacted this way to him when we were in Crescent Cove. Sure, I might’ve brushed against him now and then, just because he was such a solid hunk of man meat, but it wasn’t sexual exactly. More like I was in a drought of attention from the opposite sex and he was a complete ass, but he was so very male.

“You smell like cedar and musk.”

“Musk? That word is horrifying, right up there with moist.”

I frowned and finally pulled back, though I maintained my hold on him just in case the plane did make any sudden moves. “Not like…personal musk.” His eyebrow did that arching thing and I coughed into my hand. “Like the scent in men’s cologne. You know. It’s a proven fact that particular smell arouses most women.”

“Oh, is it? Is that why you’ve cleaved to me like a barnacle on a ship? Here I thought it was because you were an uneasy flyer.”

I jumped back so fast that my elbow pegged Lumberjack in the arm. “Oops, sorry.”