Dirty Secret: A Bad Boy Romance (Bluefield Bad Boys Book 3) (3 page)

Chapter 5

Dawson

Airports were just one notch below the Department of Motor Vehicles on the list of shittiest places to be in the world, but they still beat having to drive several thousand miles of empty road with no one to talk to. Plus, driving to California would have wasted two of my nine vacation days and that seemed like a raw deal.

I’d needed this time off and away from Bluefield. With my dad riding my ass for everything from leaving too much water on the bathroom floor to slamming the back door too hard, Kellan still hardly talking to me and Tommy blathering on about his damn farm, I was ready to explode. I’d already warned my sisters, Aubrey and Megan, not to expect me to be a great vacation mate. They warned me back that if I got too grumpy, they’d ignore me and I’d be conveniently forgotten on the morning donut runs.

I shuffled into the security check line. Some of the people in front of me had turned to look at something going on behind me. I glanced that direction. A small crowd of people was sweeping through the terminal, most of them curious onlookers who were trying hard to get a glance at someone.

The woman in front of me was staring at her phone. “It’s the band Ice Cake. That’s what all the excitement is about. My friend was at the coffee counter, and she snapped this picture.” Without me asking or showing any real interest, the woman showed me her phone. It was a blurry image of a tall, thin guy with black hair, who I recognized as the band’s keyboardist. The singer, a hot little red head with signature long bangs and equally recognizable golden eyes, was standing off to the side with a black fedora hat pulled low over her red hair.

The crowd and the entourage drew closer. The other band members were there too, with an older guy in a cheesy blue suit. I could only guess that the massive guy with white blonde hair and shoulders that were too wide to fit through the metal detector was a bodyguard. The singer was nowhere in sight.

I turned back around and stepped up to the tower of plastic trays. I pulled one off and dumped my backpack, my wallet and my phone into the tray and watched them disappear along the conveyor belt. I grabbed another tray for my shoes. As I leaned down to pull them off, I caught a glimpse of the singer, Lenix Harlow. The band was good and their songs rocked, but it was the deep, sensual, gritty tone of the lead singer that really made them great. She did not disappoint in person. It seemed all the energy from the frenzied crowd was pointed toward her.

Wearing a pair of jean shorts and a blue tank shirt, she had stepped out of line to favor a cluster of young girls with some selfies. She stood with her arms around them as they snapped away.

“Lennie, let’s go. Enough pictures. You need to take your shoes off.” The middle aged, badly dressed man, a manager most likely, called angrily to her.

Without making any movement toward the line, the famous singer reached down and slipped off her sandals. One of them flew in an arc through the air and landed on my shoe tray. It disappeared through the x-ray machine before I could grab it.

I walked through and picked up my stuff at the end. I sat down to yank on my shoes. The cute white sandal sat alone in the plastic tray. I picked it up and stood.

“Ah, you must be the prince who has found my glass slipper.”

She was stunning up close, but I wasn’t surprised. Still, it stole my breath for a second.

The singer pushed up the narrow brim of her hat a few inches, revealing more of her long red bangs. Then she let her jewel-toned eyes graze me from head to toe. “I’m really liking this new prince thing that’s going on. The tattoos, the muscles, the altogether menacing look, it works. I mean who needs a clean cut prince in a finely tailored suit when you can have this.” She waved her hand in front of me.

A large figure loomed behind her, and I pulled my eyes away from her stunning face to make quick eye contact with her bodyguard. He didn’t need to say a word to let me know I was one wrong move from getting my ass pounded. I almost wanted to see him try. I’d been in need of a good fight. Although, I probably would have been on the losing end of one where the beast outweighed me by one whole human.

“You might like the whole new prince look, but I’m not as happy about the new transformation of fairy godmother.” I motioned with my chin, and she glanced back over her shoulder.

She waved off the giant as if he was no more than a speck of dust in the air. “That’s just Axel. He’s harmless. Unless he’s mad. Then he’s pretty close to lethal.”

“Lethal is kind of the opposite of harmless, isn’t it? Here’s your sandal. It sort of took a ride with my shoes. You’ll be happy to know your sandal is not part of a terrorist plot.”

Her bandmates hurried past.

“Let’s go, Lennie. We’re boarding first.” I recognized the guy as lead guitarist, Brick, or something.

She ignored him completely. Her dark lashes fluttered down over her gold flecked eyes as she stared at the sandal in disappointment. “Aren’t you even curious if it fits?” She lifted her breathtaking gaze to me again, and I quickly realized that no matter what happened at the beach, this moment was going to be the fucking highlight of the vacation.

“I could try it on your foot, but it wouldn’t get me very far because I don’t have a castle to sweep you off to.”

“That’s all right. I’ve learned it’s not the castle that makes the prince. It’s the prince that makes the prince. That sounded silly. So, now, I’m going to take my glass slipper and be on my way.” She placed her hand on my arm to steady herself as she slipped on her shoe. As she took it away, I could still feel the heat of her fingers on my skin. “Thank you.” She winked and walked away with the giant
lethal
man in tow.

Lenix Harlow looked back at me once more with those incredible eyes before disappearing into the crowd.

Chapter 6

Lenix

I’d taken extra steps to make sure I was sitting next to Duff in first class by basically gluing myself to his side until we sat. After all that effort, I’d made the mistake of sticking in my ear buds and closing my eyes. Graham had taken advantage of my sudden state of sensory deprivation and quickly switched seats with Duff . . . just as the seatbelt sign clicked on.

I opened my eyes and caught Duff’s pathetic apology shrug as he disappeared to the seat behind me. I slumped down farther, crossed my arms and turned toward the window to make sure Graham understood that I didn’t want to talk to him. But by the time we’d taken off and the cheese trays were being wheeled down the aisle, the earphones were giving me a gnawing headache and I could no longer pretend to be asleep.

I busied myself with tasting the various cheese samples and tried my damndest to ignore the man next to me. But he wasn’t easily ignored.

“Now, keep in mind, Lennie, that this is a resting vacation. You can’t go out partying or running on the beach or swimming in the ocean.”

“Maybe you could just wrap me up in a bed sheet when we get to the house, and I could just lie there like a mummy for the week.”

“Actually, that’s not far from what I expect of you this week.”

I dropped the stinky white cheese on the tray, no longer hungry. “What you expect from me? How about this, Graham? How about you leave me the hell alone, and I’ll pretend we’re on different planets for the next week.”

The flight attendant, a cute guy with a crooked smile and a nice, boy next door face had been watching me. It seemed he’d finally worked up the courage to ask me for an autograph. He walked over with an airline cap that had a number of autographs on it.

Graham stuck up his hand to stop him from handing me the hat. “I’m sorry, but Miss Harlow is not signing autographs right now.”

I glared at Graham as the embarrassed attendant pulled the hat out of my reach. His shoulders sank as he turned away. I picked up the plate of cheese, dropped it in Graham’s lap, snapped shut the food tray and slid past my asshole manager.

I hurried to catch up to the flight attendant. I tapped his shoulder and took hold of his cap and pen. “Who should I make it out to?”

His face darkened with a blush, which only added to his wholesome appearance. “Ronald, please. And thank you so much, Miss Harlow. I’ve been collecting names on that hat for three years.”

“I see you’ve got an impressive collection of autographs.” I finished signing the hat and handed it back to him. “Uh, Ronald, one question. Are there any empty seats in coach?”

His smooth brows knitted together. “In coach?”

“Yes, I’m feeling a little claustrophobic up here.” I smiled sweetly as he glanced past me toward Graham.

“Oh, I see. Yes, as far as I know we’re only about half full back there. With summer ended, this is no longer a popular flight. But there are a few vacant seats up here as well—if you are just looking for a little more space.” He smiled back, and his gaze once again flitted to Graham. “They are only serving peanuts, soda and juice on that side of the curtain.”

“Peanuts and juice sound divine. Thank you so much for your help.” I turned around. Graham’s bushy, chocolate brown eyebrows were doing that little dance they did whenever he was quickly trying to figure out what I was up to.

I walked back to our seats, and he moved his legs to make room for me to slide over.

I didn’t say a word as I continued past our row. Duff glanced up from whatever he was reading on his tablet. He didn’t question me as I walked by. My biggest obstacle was still to come. Axel was sitting alone, taking up nearly both seats with his mass. As if my movements were always on his radar, his big eyes popped open as he was ripped from the nap he’d been taking. He sat forward like an unwieldy, startled giant. It almost seemed as if the entire plane shifted with his movement.

“Lennie, where are you going?”

I patted his oversized hand. “Shh, go back to your dreams, sleepy head. I’ll be fine. I’m just going to take a little walk.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, you’ll probably upset the whole physics thing going on with the plane. Stay here. I’ll be fine.”

He sighed. “You’re going to be the death of me, Lennie.”

I leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Stop worrying.”

I continued on toward the heavy curtains that separated first class from coach. I pushed through them. The two flight attendants organizing baskets of warm cookies for the privileged front section of the plane looked up in surprise.

“Would it be terribly against the rules if I took a few of those cookies right now?”

“Uh no, yes, well no, Miss Harlow, please help yourself.” The attendant waved her hand toward the trays. It was always so strange to have people call me Miss Harlow or to be treated as if I was somebody. Especially when, for the majority of my life, I was nobody. In fact, if there was a term for being less than nobody that had been me. Human vapor in a strong wind, that was how I’d felt for most of my life until Graham Rushton, the man who I’d grown to dislike immensely, walked into my shadowy existence.

I took two cookies, thanked the attendants and headed toward the coach seats.

“Miss Harlow,” the woman said, “first class is the other direction.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you again.” I pushed through the curtains.

Ronald had been right. There were a lot of empty seats but no empty rows. It took a few seconds for the curious glances and then full on stares to occur. I smiled and nodded at the stunned faces as I slipped down the aisle, not completely sure where I was heading. If necessary, I would just stand by the restroom for the last two hours of the flight. It would still be far more pleasant than sitting next to Graham.

I heard my name being whispered, and it was hard to hold back a grin. It had taken some getting used to having people recognize me in public. I’d hated it at first, but I’d come to grips with it being part of the business. I was used to it now. Most people were like Ronald, the flight attendant, or the cute group of teens in the airport terminal. They just wanted an autograph or a picture to show friends. It was cool to think that I mattered enough to give them something fun to share and talk about. The paparazzi and tabloid reporters were another matter altogether. They only seemed interested in discovering dirty secrets about celebrities, and my past, if ever brought to light, would give them plenty to write about. I avoided them like a plague.

I reached the back of coach, and it seemed luck was on my side. The extremely hot
prince
, who had kindly taken my sandal through security, was sitting alone in a row. He didn’t need to stretch up to see over the seat in front of him. His dark blue eyes landed right on me.

I headed to his row. He stared up at me. “Guess we were getting on the same plane.” His deep, sexy voice went nicely with the rest of him. His legs were so long, he had a hard time sitting in the seat.

I pointed to the seat next to him. “Is it taken?”

He shook his head without lifting it from the seat. He was obviously not the least bit impressed with celebrity status, and that made him even cooler. “Be my guest, but I’ve got to warn you, you missed the crappy bag of peanuts and Dixie cup of apple juice. It’s like being in preschool back here in coach.”

I held up the cookies. “That’s all right. I brought in some contraband from first class.”

He curled his long legs back to get them out of the way.

I smiled as I shimmied down into the seat. “They don’t really make these coach seats for above average humanoids. Good thing I’m of the mini version. We make a nice fit together.” I handed him a cookie. “They’re still warm.”

“Damn, so this is how the other half lives. Or should I say, this is how the one percent lives? Warm cookies on airplanes.” He took a bite. “Hmm, and good ones too.” His handsome face was even more striking up close. The guy would absolutely stand out in a crowd.

“Kind of ridiculous isn’t it? The difference between this section of the plane and first class.”

He shrugged. “Nah, if you earned the money, then you earned the good life.”

“I applaud your attitude.” I reached over with my free hand. “I’m Lenix Harlow.”

“I know who you are. Think everyone on this plane knows who you are.” He stared down at my hand a second as if he was trying to decide if it was real. His big hand came up and nearly swallowed mine. “Dawson Sullivan.”

I curled my fingers around his hand, so he couldn’t pull it away. I turned it over and rubbed my fingers over his callused palm. I was sure I heard him hold his breath as I touched him. Even though I’d done it just to show him that I noticed the calluses, I was a little breathless myself. “Let me guess. You’re not a businessman who sits behind a computer all day. You’re not a musician because the calluses are in the wrong place.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I can pound out a pretty awesome drumbeat on my steering wheel when the mood hits me.”

I laughed. “I’ll bet. You look like the steering wheel drummer type. No, I’m thinking you’re in construction.” I reluctantly released his hand. “Guess that would explain the shoulder width too. And the fact that you’re pretty damn dreamy. Dreamy just seems to go with a rugged construction job.”

“Then sorry to disappoint you, but I’m a coal miner.”

I scooted over against the arm of the seat to face him. “You mean like those guys with the lights on their helmets who go way down in the earth to dig for stuff? Coal, I guess, in your case.”

He laughed at my elementary school description. “Something like that. Only machines do the digging. I shove metal bolts into the roof of the mine to make sure it doesn’t collapse.”

“That sounds dangerous and scary and rugged and . . .” I looked him up and down. “I’m not going to lie, Dawson, I’m just a little turned on right now.”

His eyes rounded, but there was a full sized grin hiding behind his shocked look.

“Guess that was too forward. It’s the altitude. Makes me sort of lightheaded, and maybe just a little horny too. Or that might be these arms and the tattoos. I’ll just nibble on this, so that I shut up.” I sat back and took a bite of the cookie.

“So were things just a little too comfortable at the front of the plane?”

“Annoying is more like it. Sometimes when you spend too much time with people, they start to grate on your nerves.”

“Gotcha. And I understand completely.”

I handed him the last half of my cookie, which he accepted and ate in one bite.

“What’s it like down there underground? I get panicked if my sweater gets stuck on my head. I can’t even imagine standing inside a dark chamber surrounded by tons of earth.”

The faint grin on his face looked extra appealing. It seemed he was a guy who’d lived a hard life, and at his young age, already had plenty of stories to tell. “It’s sort of like that,” he said after some thought. His eyes were the kind that could look right into your soul. “It’s those seconds of panic when the sweater gets stuck on your head. Only, it’s all day and it comes and goes. You just don’t think about it. Otherwise, the panic gets to you.”

I thought about what he was telling me, and even though he was dealing with the terror of being underground, where the guts of the earth could swallow you forever, I faced a similar kind of terror whenever I walked on stage. Only for me, it was the stage set, the massive, thunderous crowd and the noise that were all waiting to swallow me. Only I hadn’t found a way to not think about it when I was up there. And so the panic followed me right out onto the stage, ready to consume me and suck the life from me.

I looked over at my handsome, new friend. “If it’s not a bother, can I sit here for the rest of the flight?”

“Not a bother at all.”