Accidental Tryst (Charleston #1)(3)

I quickly turned my back.

I had yet to be introduced to the legendary British charm. The only Brits I knew sang loud rugby songs at bars, got shit-faced, and always overstayed last call. Though my college bartending days were far behind me. I'd slogged my way into my executive marketing position and wouldn't pull another pint of Guinness if Jamie Fraser himself was lying naked on the bar in front of me with his mouth open.

I wrinkled my nose and decided to remove myself from the suit monkey's caustic aura. It reminded me I needed to go buy some earbuds for my flight, so I could drown out any other potential idiots. Even if they were too handsome for their own good. Especially if they were.

My phone still needed to charge, so I left it plugged into the worktop where it shared an outlet with the British invasion of peace. As soon as I slipped off the stool, the suit with his broad back seemed to spread out into my newly vacated space, not even noticing I'd left, just that he had more elbow room. Giving in to an eye-roll, I shifted my carry-on bag more securely on my shoulder and headed toward the newsstand.

I browsed the books, picked up a Snickers and selected a bright pink pair of earbuds. My flight was about to be called. Finally. It had been delayed three hours, so I'd gone over and made myself comfortable at the gate opposite that didn't have a flight leaving for a few hours.

Glancing down at my watch, I figured I still had—

Oh, shit! It was past my boarding time. I'd completely lost track. I dumped the chocolate and the earbuds and dashed back the way I'd come. There was hardly anyone left at my gate, the attendant was talking into the speaker.

"Last call for New York, La Guardia," she intoned.

"I'm here," I screeched as I ran past her. "I'm just grabbing my phone. Please don't close the doors."

Shit. I angled to the other gate, thankfully noting asshole was nowhere to be seen.

"Ma'am," the gate attendant called from behind me. "I'll really need you to board now."

"I'm coming," I yelled over my shoulder and grappled with my phone and the cord, yanking it out and wrapping it around my phone as I raced back across, dodging passengers and almost wiping out over a toddler in a stroller.

"Jeez, watch it, lady," the angry mom snapped at me.

My bag slipped down my arm. Gah. "Sorry," I yelped and made it toward the sour-faced woman at the door to the gangway. Great. Hours to relax, and now I was stressed and damp with sweat. Why was I always so bad with time? I just couldn't figure it out like most people. Thank God for electronic calendars, alerts, and reminders nowadays. It was the only way I could function in my job.

"Thank you," I gasped as I took back my ticket and hustled down to the plane. Unfortunately my cheap airline didn't have assigned seats, so I was liable to be sandwiched into a middle seat at the back. And darn, now I needed to pee. Why hadn't I peed during all that time I had?

My cheeks flamed as I entered and shouldered my way down the narrow aisle avoiding the passengers' irritated glares at the latecomer. To top it off I was accidentally bumping people's arms as I moved along with my unwieldy carry-on that for some reason now wouldn't stay on my shoulder.

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry," I mumbled as I headed toward the back of the plane looking for a free seat. I finally spotted one in the second to last row between a large man who was already passed out and snoring loudly, and a skinny, teenaged boy on the aisle who was fidgeting nervously and glancing frantically between me and the seat next to him.

As I approached, his face matched and surpassed mine in probable color. He looked like he was going to die of embarrassment if I sat next to him, but I had no other option. I glanced down to make sure my top wasn't gaping and bra straps weren't showing. No need to send this clearly hormonal teenager into an apoplexy.

"Sorry," I said again, for what felt like the millionth time and looked meaningfully at the seat next to him. The boy half grunted, half mumbled, and leapt up out of his seat so I could squeeze past him.

"Ma'am, I'll need you to stow your carry-on under the seat in front of you and fasten your seat belt. The aircraft is about to leave the gate."

I scowled at the flight attendant as I wedged myself into the seat and stuffed my bag between my feet. What did she think I was trying to do, exactly? Her eyes widened under my glare. Oops. Probably not good to piss off the person who was in charge of your comfort for the next hour or so. Gah, I needed to pee so bad. There was no way to do that now.

"I'll need you to put your phone on Airplane Mode too," she said, looking at my phone still clutched in my hand. Oh yeah, I was still holding it, the white cord wrapped around it. I looked closer. I may have scratched the screen somehow. Or was that a crack? My stomach sank as I thought about the cost of having the screen replaced. About as much as this airline ticket had cost. Exactly what I didn't need. Hopefully it was just a crack that wouldn't get worse.

I stuck the phone between my legs and fumbled for the seat belt, elbowing the large man next to me. "Sorry," I said yet again. He didn't even move. Thank goodness for small mercies.

Clipping the metal buckle together, I dug out the phone from between my legs. I wouldn't have time to text David to let him know I was on the plane and about to be out of contact. Dammit. He would worry like crazy.

The plane shuddered, jerked, and began a slow roll away from the gate. Wow, I really did cut it fine. Didn't they normally have ten minutes between closing the doors and leaving the gate? I must have really been late. Late and lucky. The flight attendant was still waiting, staring pointedly at me.