The Stopover (The Miles High Club 1)

“I can’t,” he whispers, his eyes searching mine . . . with something unspoken.

Does he have someone at home? Is that why he hasn’t asked for my number? Uneasiness fills me. I’m not made for this one-night stand crap.

I turn my back on him and dig out the scarf and hand it over. It’s cream and cashmere, and it’s initialed.

E.F.

My mother’s tennis group gave it to me as a gift when I finished college. I did love it . . . but oh well.

He frowns as he looks down at the embroidered letters, and I take it from him and wrap it around his neck to cover the huge purple bruise. I smirk as I look at it. I didn’t even know how to give a hickey. I must have really been in the moment.

“What does the F stand for?” he asks.

“Fuck bunny.” I smile to cover my disappointment. I don’t want him to know that his last comment upset me.

He chuckles and grabs me roughly into his arms and walks me back toward the bed. “What an apt description that is.” He takes my leg and wraps it around his waist, and we share one last lingering kiss.

“Goodbye, my beautiful fuck bunny,” he whispers.

I run my fingers through his hair as I stare at his gorgeous face. “Goodbye, Blue Eyes.”

He picks the scarf up and inhales deeply. “This smells like you.”

“Put it on every time you jerk off.” I smile sweetly. “Imagine it’s me doing all the work.”

His eyes flicker with excitement. “You know, for someone who hasn’t had sex for eighteen months, you’re a fucking sex maniac.”

I giggle. “I’ll go back to my drought now. It’s safe there . . . and I can walk unassisted.”

His face falls, and I feel like he wants to say something but is stopping himself.

“You’re going to miss your plane.” I fake a smile.

We kiss once more, and I hold him tight, and God, he really is incredible.

He stands, and with one last lingering look at me lying naked in the bed, he turns and walks out.

I smile sadly at the door he just left through. “Yes, sure, you can have my number,” I whisper into the silence.

But he didn’t want it. He’s gone.

Twelve months later

I exhale and put my hand over my heart as I stand on the curbside and look up at the glass skyscraper in front of me. My phone rings, and the name Mom lights up the screen. “Hello, Mom.” I smile. I get a vision of my beautiful mother. She has a perfect blonde bob and flawless skin, and she’s always immaculately dressed. If I can look half as good as her at her age, I will be winning at life. I miss her already.

“Oh, darling, I just called to wish you good luck.”

“Thank you.” I tap my toe, unable to stand still. “I’m so nervous I was throwing up this morning.”

“They’re going to love you, dear.”

“Oh God.” I exhale heavily. “I hope so. It took me six damn interviews to get this job, and I had to move across the country for it.” I screw up my face in fear. “Have I done the right thing, Mom?”

“Yes, love, this job is your dream, and besides, you needed to get away from Robbie. The distance from him will do you good.”

I roll my eyes. “Mom, don’t bring Robbie into it.”

“Darling, you’re dating a man who is unemployed and lives in his parents’ garage. I don’t understand what you see in him.”