One Bossy Dare

His stare never leaves my eyes.

That was definitely a flirt, even if it was a weird one.

I’m still plummeting into his eyes and I’m not coming back.

My face flames.

Forget breakfast. I pull out my laptop, open the lid, and try to hunker down behind the screen so he doesn’t see my cheeks on fire.

I pretend to work, tapping out the equivalent of War and Peace in total nonsense and F5 screen refreshes so I don’t have to make eye contact. I’m able to keep up the front until the pilot announces we’ve hit thirty thousand feet.

This trip is way too slow.

I can still feel him there, invading my space, even when he’s not looking directly at me.

Every so often, whether he means to or not, his foot brushes mine under the table.

Sweet Jesus.

I’m going to explode in a mess of jitters before I’ve had that coffee.

Eventually, I shut the laptop and stand.

“Something wrong, Miss Angelo?” Cole asks, sitting up in a tall, gentlemanly way.

Yes, and you’re the reason why.

“No,” I lie, walking to the makeshift galley. I’m not waiting for a flight attendant.

I don’t even glance back at him, either.

“Can I help you?” A woman wearing a pale-blue polo shirt with the Wired Cup logo embroidered on her chest pocket sits on a small bench.

Oh, great.

My eyes flick to the tiny coffee pot bolted to the plane. “Hi, I just wanted to make some coffee.”

She stands up with a plastered-on smile. “Great timing! I was just about to brew a fresh pot. Allow me.”

“Umm—any chance I can try?” I force an awkward smile. “See, I’m a bit of a coffee nerd and I’ve never made it on a plane before. So, uh, if it’s not against FAA regulations or anything, I’d love to try.”

Embarrassing.

Why am I a stammering mess?

She probably thinks I’m sneaking off to snort cocaine rather than find a cup of joe.

Nope. I just have the hots for the boss from hell and I can’t think when I’m stuffed into a seat next to him.

She nods pleasantly, eyeing me carefully. “Certainly. We’re stocked with standard Wake Up Call blend and decaf. I’ll show you how to make it.”

She gives me a quick rundown on how the machine works. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, minus a few extra safety mechanisms.

“Let’s do the standard blend,” I say.

She opens a drawer, pulls out a bag of ground coffee, and hands it to me.

While I let her in the small galley, I notice Cole staring at me more than once while I linger just outside.

I fuse my eyes to the percolating pot and her hands, avoiding his magnetic gaze.

But when I look up again, Kate Storm is right behind us, looking like death.

Oops. There’s actually a line of three or four people, all waiting impatiently for their coffee. I’m holding up the show.

I’m sure that also explains why the grump keeps giving me that evil eye. He probably just wants his caffeine hit, too.

Oh, but he’ll get his last.

Once the pot is brewed, I pull out the big sealed carafe and tell the attendant I’ll be back to brew more.

“I could take these for you, or I could start the next pot,” she offers.

“Thanks, but it’s a six-hour flight. I like staying busy.”

“Ah-ha, my favorite kind of passenger.” She smiles.

I take my three disposable cups and hand one to Kate before I pour fresh, fragrant coffee.

“Thanks,” she says.

I point to the guy in the cabin next to her seat. “Is he asleep?”

“...huh? Is that coffee?” he pops up, muttering drowsily.

“Here’s a cup for him, too,” I say, passing the extra to the attendant.

I grab the carafe and make the rounds, saving the attendant some extra work.

“Hi, Eliza,” Destiny says, rubbing her eyes when I pass her seat.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” There’s an empty seat beside her, so I sit for a moment. “I thought you’d nap the whole way there.”

“I can’t go back to sleep now. I don’t know, something about plane pressure never feels quite right.”

“Sorry, hon. Do you want some coffee?”

She nods. “But, um, I like cream and sugar...”

I place the cup securely in the holder beside her. “Let me start another pot, and I’ll be right back to sweeten it up.”

“You rock!”

I return to the galley and start a second pot. I’m scooping ground coffee into a filter when an unexpected warmth against my ear makes me jump.

Before I even turn around, I know.

I can smell him. Earth, citrus, a hint of espresso, and overpowering alpha male.

“You just can’t sit still, huh? You had to take over the flight attendant’s job?” His voice is a low rumble, a purr that plucks at my nerves.

The attendant rounds the corner and gasps. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir! I offered to do it, but she said she wanted the experience. I didn’t see the harm...”