Every Girl Does It(42)

“Um, guys,” BJ says, catching up to us. "Sorry to interrupt this bonding moment, but I gotta get on the next flight."

“Wait,” I say, turning to him. “What do you mean, you’re getting on the next flight?”

“Well,” he says, handing the crate over to Preston. “My parents own some property in Kona. And since they wouldn’t let the dog travel alone, it was either go visit them or fly directly back to Boise, so...” He shakes my hand forcefully. “It was a pleasure meeting you, and I’m sure I’ll see a lot more of you now that you and Preston are getting married.”

I hear Preston snicker behind me before I give him another warning lunge with my bag. He backs off slowly and walks around to give BJ a high five.

“Thanks, man. I owe you one.” Preston winks.

“Actually,” BJ says. “It was totally worth it, seeing her chase you with her purse like that. Just wait until I tell the guys. We’ll see ya!” He waves and walks off, while I turn to glare at Preston again.

“Anything you wanna ask me,” he says, and then it hits me. All the shrimp, the throwing up, the talking incessantly about how hot he is to his face, the blaming, the embarrassment... I look at him and my eyes widen in astonishment over all of the things I’ve said in his presence over the past day.

“Oh, so it’s hitting you, is it?” He grabs my arm.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie through my teeth.

“Well, let me refresh your memory. My hotness, my awesomeness, you saying you’re not attracted to me anymore, the shrimp incident…Need I go on?” He’s beaming, and I’m ready to throw up again. That is, if I had anything in my stomach besides 7up.

Suddenly, I feel two hands grab my arms and a low voice say, “Come with us, please, ma'am.”

I mean, honestly, I don’t even look like Angelina right now. Oh my gosh. This is how my life is going to end. I’m going to get kidnapped in Maui!

Preston’s face pales slightly as a man in a police uniform asks him the same. We’re escorted to the side of the building to a door which reads Security Office. You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding.

“Ma'am,” the man in the uniform asks me. “Do you realize it’s a federal offense to make death threats in an international airport?” I look up at him and lock eyes on his nametag. Jorge. Seriously, what are the odds? And come on, it's not like I said bomb. I then proceed to explain just that to Jorge, who looks at me like I just confessed to having a bomb.



Chapter Eighteen



So, word to the wise, never say bomb. Ever. Not even as a slang word, because apparently, it's like a free ticket to jail. Which I found out the hard way, since I’m currently sitting behind the bars of a Maui airport holding cell, looking out and wondering if I’ll ever, in fact, see freedom. I mean, seriously. They didn’t go over what you could and couldn’t say on the stupid safety video on the plane. Oh sure, they tell you what to do if the plane crashes. Gee, thanks. But if the plane does, by some miracle, manage to stay in the air, you better be careful to say only kind words to other people, or else…

The office door opens, and I hear footsteps coming down the hall toward my cell. I strain against the bars in an effort to see who it is, until Preston appears with the smuggest of all smug grins on his face. Naturally, he didn’t get arrested. He was the one being threatened, and he had the foresight not to say bomb like I did. I mean, he’s not a complete idiot. Which I’m just now realizing as I see he hasn’t come to laugh at me, but to free me from my prison.

He shakes his head and stuffs his hands in his pockets as he walks up to the bars and chuckles. “How you get yourself in situations like this, I’ll never understand.”

“Wow. Stating the obvious. You shouldn’t have.”

“Ha ha! I love it when you get so sentimental. It warms my heart.”

“I’ll warm your heart,” I sneer.

“I’m counting on it.”

Okay, and now I’m blushing and looking away. Why is he torturing me?

“You know,” he says. “It’s only fair I keep you in here a little bit longer after all the hitting and threatening. Plus, you aren’t so good at listening when you’re busy chasing me.”

The man had a point, not that I was admitting anything in my current position.

“So, I’ve decided on a compromise.”

“How kind of you, good sir,” I say in my British accent that sounds more like Australian.

“Give me five minutes, and then I’ll free you. You can either get on a plane and never see me again, or…If you like what you hear, you can stay a few more days with me before we go back to Boise.”

It didn’t sound too bad. I mean, I can listen for five minutes if it indicates freedom. All I truly want to do is break through these metal bars superman style, but I’m pretty sure any effort to escape is frowned upon in these cases. So I'll resign myself to the only choice I actually have.

“Deal.” I sit by the nearest wall and cross my legs. The metal bench might have been a good way to escape, minus the fact it’s literally chained to the wall.

“Good,” he says, then he starts to pace in front of my cell. Wow. There’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear come out of my own mouth. Awesome.