“It’s a four-hour flight. What else are we going to do?” He raises his eyebrows. “How’d your date go yesterday? Seems weird to start going out with someone halfway across the country.”
The earbuds in my hands don’t ever seem to make it to my ears. “Why in the world would you care? Even if we were friends, which we’re definitely not, is that how you’d ask someone such a personal question?”
He frowns and straightens in his seat. “If I were talking to Declan right now instead of you, that’s exactly how I would ask. And that’s not an answer.”
“Declan’s your brother. Wait, do you not have any friends? Why am I not surprised?” I’m not surprised. Making friends and maintaining relationships outside the restaurant when you’re a chef isn’t easy and I know that as well as anyone, but it doesn’t stop me from the dig at him.
His frown deepens. “Still not an answer.”
“I guess you missed the part about us not being friends. Don’t you have a recipe to create using small children or something? What happened to your index cards?”
He shrugs and pats the pocket of his cargo shorts. “I think I’ll leave them right here. Wouldn’t want them to run away again.”
My face warms, and I turn to the window and raise the shade. They’re still loading the luggage. I wonder if there’s time to get the hell off this plane. The light dings overhead and the flight attendant announces they’ve closed the doors and reminds us to stow large electronics.
There’s no help for it. I’m stuck on the plane with Knox for the next four hours. Not just the plane, which would be bad enough, but in the same row.
I shove the earbuds in my ear and hit play on my phone’s music app, studiously ignoring my seatmate.
The plane starts down the runway and we both concentrate on getting in the air. As if there’s anything we can do one way or the other. Knox grips the arms of his seat which sends a jolt of surprise through me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him anxious.
Once we’re safely in the air, he visibly relaxes and pulls his earbuds out of a pocket in his shorts.
I turn my head toward the window and pretend he isn’t there, and listen to my music. Too afraid to go to sleep even though I’d love to. What if I were to dream about him again? Or moan his name? Gah. My cheeks heat just thinking about it.
The position I’m in is completely unbelievable. He’s sitting over there acting like he hasn’t been plotting to win and using my emotions against me. And has the nerve to ask me about Mike, like it’s any of his business.
The flight attendant rolls the beverage cart to our row and stops, leaning over Knox. I remove my earbud to let her know I’ll have coffee. I’m so sleepy and I’m never going to make it if I don’t ingest a stimulant. She passes me the cup along with a stroopwafel. I’m not normally one for snacks, unlike my arch nemesis gleefully unwrapping his package next to me, but I can appreciate a good stroopwafel with my coffee.
Knox chomps on his wafer, washing it down with plain water. Amateur.
I unwrap my cookie and place it on top of my coffee so the syrup within will warm, and the stroopwafel will become pliable. It’s the best way to eat it, and I rub my hands together in anticipation.
My neighbor looks at me. I know he does because the side of my face is heating. When I glance his way, he nods toward my wafer. “Fancy, aren’t you?”
“Leave me alone.”
His eyes turn cornflower blue, and he leans over the seat closer to me and lowers his voice. “When I win, I’m going to name my restaurant Prato Ristorante. I’ve already started constructing the menu. I’ll send you a special invitation for the grand opening.”
“When I win, I’m not going to think of you at all.”
He smirks. “We’ll see about that.” He reaches under the seat in front of him and opens his backpack, pulling out a book. It’s an extra-large hardcover that he sets on the middle seat while zipping up the backpack.
It’s a historical non-fiction novel on medieval history.
Dafuq?
He must see my confused face because he laughs. A real laugh.
I can’t help but chuckle myself. “You read?”
“Didn’t you just tell me to leave you alone?”
Ugh. I did but I’m way too curious for my own good. “Permission granted to speak.”
He shakes his head and chuckles. “Yes, Rowan, I read. I got really interested in history when we were in school, and then I took a medieval history class junior year. Italian history right before the plague is especially interesting to me.”
I nod. That makes sense considering his mom was from Italy. I toss him a sympathetic smile. I can’t imagine losing a mother at such a young age. As much as Mama can’t stand Flynn, even she would have a kind word whenever talk of her passing would come up.
He only shrugs and looks down at the text.
“I would never have guessed. At no time at all have I seen you with a book.”
“I enjoy reading about as much as you love music.”
I blush and I’m not sure why. To deflect from my heating face, I redirect the conversation. “What do you like about medieval Italian history?”
He picks up the book and turns it over, opening it to the first page. “I spent a lot of summers in Italia. Even though my grandparents came over when my mom and aunt were little girls, they still had so much family there. It’s interesting visiting Firenze and Venezia, and even Napoli, and then reading about them at the beginning of civilization. How things were so different, but also a lot the same.”
I furrow my brows, concentrating on translating. I think I know Venice and am sure about Naples. “Firenze?”
He nods and smiles. “Florence. Have you been?”
“No.
