Damaged Grump (Bad Chicago Bosses)

By the time the song ends, I suppose I’m done glaring.

It’s a good tune, even with that obvious jab at the end that every suit of armor has its weakness.

With his fingers still on his piano keys, the sound dies as he lifts his head with a breathless grin and glances toward me.

I flip him off while the crowd around me explodes in applause and ear-splitting cheers.

That just makes Barry grin wider.

Yeah, damn him.

He’s like that.

Nothing gets him down.

Nothing breaks him.

He just smiles through life’s storms. Through everything.

I wish I could be more like Barry sometimes.

I wish I knew how.

* * *

I blink, lifting my head as the Fasten Seat Belt light blinks on with a loud chime.

The air pressure changes, and so does the vibration of the jet with that subtle whine that says we’re descending.

When did I fall asleep?

And when did this warm heap of something end up nestled against my arm and shoulder, heating my entire side?

Rubbing at one eye, I turn my head—and find myself nose to nose with Callie.

Shit.

She’d must’ve shifted over, leaning against me while we slept, her head pillowed on my shoulder. Her mouth is so close to mine I can feel her breath filtering through my short beard, stroking my skin like a forbidden caress.

My heart jackhammers.

A less noble part of my anatomy rivals diamond.

Damn, it would be so easy to just lean in, to cradle her face, to—

No.

You’re not fucking kissing her.

I straighten carefully, shoving aside my animal lust and pulling away from her. I turn my head to glance over my shoulder.

No one’s noticed my predicament.

Good. I can’t stand the thought of my staff starting nasty rumors, especially about her.

Carefully, I bump her awake with my elbow while shifting her weight, nudging her against the other side.

If I’m lucky, she’ll wake up on her own with no clue that she just snuggled up to a rabid porcupine in her sleep.

While the sniping over her embarrassment might be amusing, it won’t help me keep my distance and my focus intact.

It works.

She slumps in the other direction, groaning before she jerks a little. She blinks and lets out a small yawn.

Her face screws up, briefly confused, like she’s forgotten where we are. Then her eyes clear, and she freezes, staring at me.

“Uh?”

I cock my head. “Yes?”

“Roland? Why are you... here?”

“Because this is where I always sit during long flights. Creature of habit.” I arch a brow. “Would it have been more gentlemanly to give up my seat without you even using it?”

She scowls, ducking her head.

“Oh. Right. Um...sorry.”

“For what?”

“I don’t—I don’t know,” Callie huffs.

Adorable.

Unbearably adorable.

As if she could’ve known this was my spot like the obsessive control freak I am.

“Enjoy your nap?” I ask. “You slept through your first private flight. We’re about to land, so buckle up.”

“Oh.” She sits up quickly, shedding the blanket—at least she doesn’t question that—and quickly grasps for her seat belt. It doesn’t stop her from flinging one more comment. “How do you know it was my first? Maybe I fly private all the time.”

“Liar. You wouldn’t have been so surprised by the cabin if that was the case.” I chuckle. “It’s no shame, Callie. I was starstruck too the first time I saw the interior, and I own this jet.”

She squints one eye at me.

Her tongue flicks out before she buckles her seat belt, sinking back in her seat with a little hmph.

I shouldn’t be smiling.

Worse, smiling and letting her see it.

I’m hopeless as I pick up the insulated cup from the holder between us.

“Here. It should still be warm.”

With a startled glance, she takes the cup slowly, almost warily. She takes a cautious sip and breaks into a brilliant smile.

“Ohhh, that’s nice. Chai?”

“With milk. I’ve noticed your not-so-secret addiction.”

Her smile softens as she cradles the cup in both hands like it’s precious ambrosia.

“I guess we can’t exactly get Sweeter Grind lattes in-flight, right?”

“I’ll look into it.” Shaking my head, I look away. “If you make a habit of accompanying me on trips, maybe I will.”

Foot, meet mouth.

I can feel her puzzled stare and the weight of her eyes on me.

“Very funny. You’re not serious, are you?” she whispers.

I don’t have an answer for that.

Not one I should say out loud.

So I just roll my eyes and keep my yap shut, avoiding looking at her again as the jet coasts over Austin’s greenery.

The sun peeks out from a murky sky right before we bounce down on the tarmac.

Like the whole fucking universe is having a well-deserved laugh at my expense.

Way to go, Osprey, you mushy damned Brussels sprout.

13

Blue All Over (Callie)

Okay, this Double Agent Callie thing has officially gone too far and it has nothing to do with Easterly Ribbon.

Sunglasses?

Really?

But Roland insisted, from the moment we stepped off the plane.

Something about his reputation, his countless enemies, and the fact that they might latch on to me just for associating with him. He said it was best to keep a low profile.