All the Feels (Spoiler Alert #2)(13)

This close to her, he could hear her swallow.

“I know all the science behind it, but when you’re actually in the plane, it just seems so precarious.” Her pale lips pursed. “Plus, I always end up with bruised thighs from the armrests. And sometimes they have trouble finding a seat belt extender, or my seat-mates complain I’m taking up too much room. It’s not fun.”

At the thought of a stranger insulting her, his skin prickled beneath his soft tee. “If anyone is rude to you, I can handle it.”

“No.” When he started to protest, she spoke over him. “No. I don’t trust you not to escalate things, and I told you I didn’t want to be the means by which you got into trouble with Ron and R.J. I meant it.”

He glowered at her. “You meant you didn’t want to have to report on me, not that I couldn’t—”

“I’m not entertaining discussion on the matter.” She lifted her chin and looked down that crooked nose at him. “Thank you very much.”

When he made a sort of growly sound in his chest, she rolled her eyes.

After a moment, though, she spoke again, her voice softer. “I mean that sincerely, by the way. Thank you for the offer.”

“Seats in business class are much wider than in coach,” he sulkily told her, lower lip still poking out a tad. “That should help with the bruising issue.”

“Good to know,” she said, then shoved at his chair. “Now move away and let me eat my sandwich in peace, Woodroe.”

He left his chair exactly where it was, and it relieved his feelings considerably.

As he munched on his deliciousness-filled baguette, he gave her a few minutes of quiet and studied her. The lines on her face had smoothed somewhat, even if those shadows beneath her eyes hadn’t gone anywhere. She wasn’t tugging at her ponytail anymore, and she was actually tapping the screen of her e-reader to turn pages at regular intervals.

“Stop staring at me.” She didn’t look up, which was extremely dissatisfying.

Making his reluctance clear with a heavy, drawn-out exhalation, he turned his attention to the windows, where an enormous plane was taxiing down the runway. It caught flight and winged toward the sun in a graceful swoop.

He barely noticed.

Today was literally the first time he’d ever seen his minder anything less than calm. Even when her cousin had insulted her.

That morning, he’d wondered whether Ron’s disdain bothered her at all, because it didn’t seem to. Alex had envied that seeming imperviousness, frankly. His skin was always a little thinner than it should be. Maybe too thin for his chosen profession.

He hadn’t intended to hurt her feelings today. That he’d done so anyway was just one more misdeed to toss atop his already massive pile of regrets. Still, he now knew she had actual feelings, which was comforting. And she might have snapped at him, but he’d always preferred an honest reaction over artifice.

Someone like her wouldn’t lose her temper around anyone she didn’t trust at least a little, right?

Yes, he was clearly well on his way to charming her completely. Which meant it was time to up his efforts and introduce her to the wonders of soggy bottoms, baps, and claggy sponges.

“You snapped at me for no reason, Nanny Clegg.” He chose a wheedling tone, one guaranteed to grate on her nerves. “Aren’t you going to make that up to me somehow?”

“I apologized.” Dragging her finger, she highlighted a passage in her e-reader. “That should be sufficient recompense.”

“It’s not.”

She looked up at him, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Then she sighed and set aside her book. “What do you want, Alex?”

Ten minutes later, they were huddled around his laptop and streaming Nadiya’s season—the best season—of The Great British Bake Off. Lauren had reluctantly agreed to watch the first several episodes with him. In return, he’d promised to let her sleep peacefully the entire plane ride, although he’d also crossed his fingers behind his back while making that promise, so he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions high above the Atlantic.

As they watched, her posture loosened minute by minute, until her shoulders no longer hovered near her ears. Her thighs, covered in stretchy leggings for the long trip, spread farther apart as she leaned closer to the monitor.

And just now, as she’d shifted in her seat, he’d spotted something very interesting indeed. In her chest region. Not that he’d been looking at her breasts, which weren’t especially remarkable. But what lay atop those breasts was.

He paused the episode. “Hey, Lauren?”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she exhaled through her nose. “Yes, Alex?”

“What’s Big Harpy Energy?” He flicked a finger at her T-shirt. “And where can I get some?”

BHE: BIG HARPY ENERGY, the shirt declared in large, bold letters. In smaller text beneath, there was a hashtag: #CRONEGOALS.

“I’ve heard of Big Dick Energy,” he noted with a smirk, “and from all accounts, I’m a prime exemplar of that particular—”

“Can it, Woodroe.” She looked down at her chest, then gave a little shrug. “My best friend Sionna lost her husband about five years ago. A few months later, she announced she was founding the Harpy Institute for Crone Sciences. She asked if I wanted to join her and make it a two-person institution, and again, she’s my best friend, so …”