Grounded (Up in the Air, #3)(53)

I sent him a baffled look. “Of course I do. Damien needs to move on, and Jessa would be good for anybody. She’s one of the most open and honest people I’ve ever met. Talking to her is like chatting with a really good therapist.”

“Nah,” Murphy said, getting back up. “Damien’s pretty clear about what he likes from women. He likes to be ignored, not yelled at. She’s not his type at all.”

I gave my little shrug. “Maybe he needs to find a new type.”

Murphy grinned. “Now wouldn’t that be awesome.”

Damien and Jessa never returned to the club, at least not before James and I left, and I took that as a very good sign.

We made our rounds, saying goodbye to everyone at around eleven. James was rather quiet but sweet on the short trip back to the apartment. He nuzzled into my neck, placing soft, sweet kisses there. It wasn’t his usual style, but I still melted.

He made love to me again before I sank into a deep and dreamless sleep.





I was pleasantly surprised the next morning when I realized that he was traveling to Vegas with me that day. I’d known that he was planning to spend part of his week there with me, but we hadn’t discussed when he was flying out.

We got dressed together, holding hands quietly while we made our way down to the waiting car.

“I discussed it with Stephan last night. You don’t have to take the airport shuttle with the crew. It’s at your lead’s discretion, and he gave us the green light, so you can ride with me.”

I just nodded.

The flight went well. The whole day did, in fact. There was a brief moment of tension when James found out that, though I was taking the furlough, I would still be working my regular schedule for at least two more weeks. He didn’t like that. I hadn’t thought he would, but I wouldn’t budge.

“This company gave me an invaluable opportunity that changed my life. That means a lot to me. They’ve asked us to stay on our schedules for two more weeks, and I won’t bail early and mess up staffing in the meantime. I won’t budge on this, James.”

My little speech was impassioned enough that he let it go pretty quickly, for him. Even if he couldn’t understand why I would have a feeling of loyalty towards a company that was on its way out, he at least respected it. That warmed me. He didn’t always understand me, but I could have no doubts that he tried to.

The next few days went like that. Every possible bump in the road gave us little resistance. He didn’t complain when I had to work for most of Sunday, just kissed me a lingering goodbye with a murmured, “I love you.”

Things were good between us. Good was putting it mildly. We were amazing together. Things became so easy but that heat between us didn’t cool for a moment. It became very clear to me just how perfect it could be between us if we just let it. It all felt so perfect, in fact, that I began to get a little paranoid, always waiting for that other shoe to drop.

I told myself that life didn’t just have to be a series of tragedies. Maybe I could just have this wonderful thing, no conditions. Perhaps life would be blissfully smooth sailing from here on out. I wanted to believe it, but a sick tension never quite left my gut, and my nightmares were more persistent than ever.

We stayed at his Vegas home that week, agreeing to stay at my little place on the next Vegas rotation.

On Monday, we went out to dinner with the tattoo artist, Frankie. I was nervous. I knew I’d made a bad impression the first time we’d met, and I wanted to rectify that, but I didn’t know the woman, so I wasn’t sure how.

We met her at a trendy restaurant in the Cavendish Hotel & Casino. I dressed Vegas casual, in a pretty, white blouse, beige short-shorts, and pumpkin orange heels. You could never show too much skin in Vegas, and the heels made the outfit just dressy enough that I could fit in anywhere.

Frankie was warm and friendly, hugging us both and giving me a genuine smile right off the bat. I felt my tension ease. She was going to make it easy on me.

Frankie was wearing a tight gray T-shirt that was torn so short at the bottom that I got a good look at some of her under-boob. Her cutoff jean shorts weren’t much more decent. Her ink-covered skin was well displayed in all its glory.

She caught me looking and smiled. “My reality show is shooting. The producers love to see the ink. I swear they talk me into less and less clothing every season. Next season they might just get me to walk around naked.

I smiled back at her. She had a very nice smile. Her makeup was dark, her lips nearly black. Her look was harsh but managed not to detract from her pretty face. With that endearing smile she was actually kind of adorable. With her corkscrew black curls, she kind of looked like a grown-up goth Shirley Temple.

We hit it off with no problems. Frankie wasn’t at all what I’d been worried she’d be. I began to see why she and James got along so well. She laid the charm on thick; add that to her undeniable charisma, and I saw easily why she had her own reality show. I didn’t like reality shows. I never saw the appeal to watching people that I didn’t like or respect make fools of themselves, but I would have bet that I’d like Frankie’s show.

“What would I have to do to get you on my table, Bianca?” Frankie asked with a charming smile after we’d been chatting for a solid hour.

James made a disapproving noise, and I glanced at him. He was shooting an annoyed look in the other woman’s direction. “Don’t hit on my girl, Frankie.”