Instead I just run my thumb across her knuckles, and I’m gratified when she exhales a slow breath once we get to cruising altitude. Except she doesn’t seem to relax after the breath. She’s tense, as if she’s on the verge of speaking. She glances at me, pale blue eyes wide and anxious, and I tilt my head to hear her over the loud hum of the engines.
Just when I think she’ll get out whatever’s eating at her, our other seatmate shifts his bulk and unfastens his seatbelt extension. “Gotta hit the lavatory before the aisle gets blocked by that damn cart,” he says.
“Of course!” Callie says a little too quickly and jerks her hand out of mine. I stand and step back into the aisle, careful not to encroach on the other passengers too much. She stands too and darts a wary glance at me as she steps back to make room for the hefty guy to clamber out. I ease back a step to give her room, but not too far. When she leans to give the guy space, her messy updo nearly brushes my face and I catch a faint aroma of apples. It’s all I can do not to lean in and breathe her scent, to slide a hand under the edge of her fleece and discover the curves beneath. I was in dire need of a distraction from my thoughts, and she’s proving an answer to my prayers.
The best part is that she’s tall. Being well over six feet, it’s unusual for me to find women who come close to matching my height, which makes for all kinds of geometrical challenges when we become intimate. Even though she’s wearing flats, the top of her head is level with my nose. She shifts back a little more, her firm, round ass within an inch of my groin.
Yeah, she’s exactly the right height for me. Sweet Jesus.
She sits again and I let out a small sigh, hoping that the interruption didn’t distract her too much from whatever she wanted to say.
“You doing okay?” I ask in a low voice when I sit, taking her hand again and squeezing it. I hope her anxiety didn’t destroy the connection I felt forming between us. “Takeoff is the worst.”
A small laugh stutters out of her and she nods. “I’m good. Thank you. I’m usually not this much of a basket case, I promise. I’m a fucking brain surgeon; I’m used to high-pressure situations.” She lets out an exasperated breath and shakes her head.
“Something you want to talk about?”
Her jaw flexes as she stares at our hands where they rest on top of her thigh. She turns them over so mine is on top, my skinned, bruised knuckles a rough contrast to her pale, pristine surgeon’s hands.
“I feel like this inside,” she finally says in a soft voice, touching the back of my hand. “Raw, bruised. Abused.”
The last word makes me tighten my hold on her and I look down into her eyes. “What happened?”
Her eyebrows rise at my stern, demanding tone. Then she closes her eyes and nods. “Sorry, I guess that might be a loaded word for you. I met Mr. Santos. Your uncle, I mean. He’s a piece of work.”
I grunt in agreement, then say, “I don’t want to hear about him. I know everything there is to know already. What I want to hear about is you. Why do you feel that way?”
She winces. “You know what? It’s stupid. I’m stupid.”
“Bullshit. Tell me.”
She sighs and leans her head back against the seat, eyes clenched shut. “I broke up with someone tonight. Someone I was with for a very long time. Turns out he was cheating, so I ended it.”
An alarm bell clangs in my head, warning me to steer clear. Women who are fresh from a breakup are volatile. But I just can’t. I’ve been drawn to this woman since I first set eyes on her, and really, this is good news, right?
“How long were you together?”
She opens her eyes and stares at the ceiling, then sighs. “Since med school. Five years. We were engaged.” She turns our hands over again, still holding tight to mine, and we both look at her empty ring finger. There isn’t even a tan line, no sign whatsoever that she’s ever worn a ring at all.
“Is he back in LA? Is that why you left?”
“No, actually.” A bitter laugh slips out. “He lives in Denver. It was long-distance, but we made it work. At least I thought we did.”
I snort. “Sweetness, I promise you if he was cheating now, he was cheating before. He probably liked it because he had the freedom to fuck around without you knowing. And you stayed together for five years? Living in different cities? Different states? Jesus. If you were mine, I’d have moved.”
“That’s sweet, but with my residency monopolizing my time, it didn’t make sense. He had a position lined up at a private practice in Denver that would’ve meant a huge salary boost if he stayed long enough to leverage it when moving to California.” I shake my head, giving her an incredulous look. She sighs and curses. “He was never going to move, was he? If he was, he’d have done it already.”
“Precisely. The man’s a goddamn fool, and you are not stupid for ending it. I just need to know why the hell you even got on this flight. Not that I’m complaining.” My lips quirk in a smile as I lift our hands and press my lips to the back of hers. It’s incredibly forward of me, but she hasn’t let go of my hand yet, and the contact seems to be improving her mood.
Her eyes brighten and she huffs out a small breath, seeming lighter suddenly. “This trip wasn’t about him. My mom throws
