Season's Greetings : Christmas Box Set

“Yes, ma’am. Right now, it looks like it’s a thirty-minute delay.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Scanning the area, I find a few seats near the end of the aisle across the room, vacant save for an extra-large man with jet black hair. He has to be at least six-foot-four or more with long arms and legs that took up enough space to make him intimidating by default. With noise-canceling headphones on, he mouthed the words to whatever he was listening to and typed on a laptop that looked ridiculously small in his lap. Shuffling over, I plopped beside him and smiled. He blinked at me and looked around as if to make sure I was directing my attention on him.

“Hi.”

He nods and returns to typing.

Rude. I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes, letting my heart rate come back down.

“Ladies and gentleman, Flight 1321 will be delayed forty-five minutes due to inclement weather.”

Groaning, I shrug off my backpack, ready to get comfortable. The air ripples beside me as the dark-haired man removes his headphones and frowns. I glance over at him and note his eyes are equally dark—the kind of expresso color you rarely see.

“Forty-five minutes?” He holds up a watch that does way more than tell time. “They’re not right.”

“How would you know? Do you have an inside tip?”

Frowning, his gaze meets mine. “No. I know planes. Seventy percent of canceled flights are due to weather. At negative twenty degrees Fahrenheit, the fuel freezes on the ground.”

“I didn’t know that,” I say honestly.

“The cold right now coupled with the snow is going to lead to a longer delay. I enjoy flying and planes. I know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m sure you do,” I whisper, hearing his defensive tone.

He blinks, looking surprised that I’ve agreed. Despite his rudeness earlier, there’s something about him that speaks to me. I observe him out of the corner of my eyes. The Star Trek socks that peek out from under his expensive slacks coupled with the hiking boots give him just a bit of quirk to break him from the stuffy businessman I pegged him for earlier. His lips are so red I could swear he’d been drinking Kool-Aid, and he has lashes most women pay for. Why do men get the best features?

The snowflakes are more oversized and coming down faster. Maybe there was more truth to the man’s predictions than I thought.

Pulling out my phone, I call Rose.

“Shouldn’t you be boarding?”

“Hey, Rosie. I’m fine. How are you?”

“Hi. Now, why aren’t you boarding?”

“We’re delayed.”

She groans. “How long?”

“About forty-five minutes.”

“Why did you say it like that?” My detail-oriented, left-brain led friend doesn’t miss much.

“Because I’m watching the snow come down, and it’s worse than it was when they first delayed us by thirty-minutes.”

“But it’s Christmas Eve.”

“You need to worry about keeping my godson in there.”

She laughs. “You have two more months before he makes his appearance. Plus, it’s not up to me. He lets me know daily he’s in charge between his cravings and holding my bladder hostage.”

I snicker. “Oh, his cravings.”

“I’m eating onions, Del. Onions.”