In Flight (11 page)

The group of New Yorkers made a few raunchy comments about me loudly enough that I heard it as I passed them while I was doing a seat belt check.
 
I ignored them easily.
 
It was nothing unusual.
 
In fact, it was par for the course on this particular flight.
 

It was Saturday morning, and there was usually a group of old school New York men on this flight.
 
They were heading to Vegas, had just paid for an upgrade to first class, and were getting their party started.
 
They were obnoxious and rude, but also a common feature on JFK flights.

I paused briefly by James.
 
His fists were clenched, his hard face tilted toward the small window.
 
He looked very out of sorts.
 

 
“Can I help you with anything, Mr. Cavendish?” I asked him quietly.
 
I couldn’t begin to imagine what had him so agitated.
 

He shook his head slightly.
 
He quickly contradicted himself.
 
“Tell Stephan I want to speak to him as soon as he’s available,” he said shortly.

“Okaaay,” I said, confused, and moved on.
 

CHAPTER NINE

Mr. Angry

“What was that all about?” I asked Stephan, as we buckled into our jump seats.
 
He and James had had a brief but intense looking exchange right before Stephan came to sit beside me.

He just shook his head, looking out the window.
 

I elbowed him in the ribs.
 

“Ow,” he said, shooting me a surprised look.
 
“What’s gotten into you?”
 

My eyes widened with incredulity.
 
“Me?
 
What about you?
 
How did Mr. Beautiful over there get you in his corner so fast?
 
You’re supposed to help me avoid guys like that.
 
Instead, you’ve been helping him.
 
And now you’re close-mouthed about talks you’re having with him.”
 

He sighed.
 
“It was about that rowdy crowd in rows five and six.
 
They’ve been keeping up a non-stop dialogue about you, and it’s not sitting well with James.
 
I need to have a word with them once we reach ten thousand feet.”
 

He smirked suddenly.
 
“Or else I think Mr. Beautiful might start throwing punches.”
 

I
 
rolled my eyes, shooting an exasperated look at James, who was directly in my view.
 
He still had his gaze trained on the window, but his eyes were glassed over, his fists clenched hard.
 
He looked even more agitated now.

“It’s just the usual good ol’ boy Vegas crowd,” I told Stephan.
 
“Same type of crowd we get almost every week.
 
The’ve been easy to ignore so far.
 
Don’t get them unnecessarily riled up.”

Now it was Stephan’s turn to look exasperated.
 
“I don’t think you heard the worst of what they’ve been saying.
 
James told me, and it wasn’t pretty.
 
They are being particularly raunchy and using a lot of profanity loudly enough for the rest of the cabin to be disturbed.
 
I need to address it.
 
Better to nip it in the bud.
 
And look at James.
 
He is seriously agitated.
 
Better to piss off a few jerks than to have an all out brawl on our hands.”

I did look at James.
 
I studied him closely.
 
His agitation seemed to be growing by the second.
 

His eyes snapped wide suddenly, his gaze shooting to us, his hands going to his seat belt as though he were preparing to get up.
 

“Ah, shit,” Stephan muttered, trepidation in his voice.

James seemed to get himself under control, carefully letting go of his seat belt and unclenching his hands.
 
He closed his eyes, his lips moving.
 

“He’s counting to ten,” I said stupidly.
 
“Can you hear what they’re saying that’s getting him all riled up?
 
I can’t hear a thing.”

“I can hear their voices, but I can’t make out what they’re saying at all,” Stephan said, watching James carefully.
 

Stephan was painfully tense.
 
I knew he hated fighting more than just about anything else in the world.
 
I had also seen him fight several times, though it had been years since he’d had to.
 
He was exceptionally good at it.
 
Whatever happened, he would be able to handle himself, I knew.
 
But he would hate it.
 
He abhorred violence of any kind.

James opened his eyes suddenly, looking more furious than I’d ever seen him.
 
Apparently counting to ten hadn’t worked.
 
His hands shot again to his seat belt and I watched in horror as he shot from his seat, striding to the troublemakers with violence in every quick step.

“Fuck,” Stephan cursed.
 
“Stay here.
 
Please,” he pleaded, going after James in a flash.

There was a very tense exchange.
 
James was leaning down close to speak to the man who had addressed me earlier, and I couldn’t see his face or hear what he was saying.
 

Stephan was pointing at one of the other men and his voice was raised, though I couldn’t make out the words over the plane engine and the distance.
 
I was surprised that Stephan didn’t even look at James, making no attempt whatsoever to make him return to his seat.
 

Shit,
I thought.
 
That probably meant his own temper was flaring up as well.
 
It really would be a brawl if Stephan started throwing punches.

I saw the man who Stephan was clearly reaming out raise his hands, as though in surrender.
 
That didn’t seem to appease Stephan, though, who just turned to the man who James had taken special exception to.
 
I assumed he was still talking to the man, though I couldn’t hear him.
 

He was speaking quietly, while Stephan was just getting louder.
 

“I mean it.
 
One more word out of any of you, and we are diverting this plane and there will be law enforcement waiting for you at the gate.”
 
With that, Stephan stormed back to the seat beside me.
 
He still hadn’t bothered to make James take his seat.
 

A few tense moments later, James straightened, walking stiffly back to his seat.
 
He didn’t look at me, just sat, buckled up, and closed his eyes.
 

I felt a relief so huge it almost shamed me.
 
Seeing that, although he’d really wanted to pound someone, he had restrained himself, was something I’d almost needed to see.
 
Whatever else I didn’t know about him, at least I knew he could practice self-control.
 

Uncontrolled violence and aggression were the monsters of my childhood, and I felt almost limp with relief to see that I wouldn’t find them in James.
 
Not in the way I had feared.
 
The way I always feared, despite a decent amount of time and therapy.

“What happened?
 
What were they saying that would involve law enforcement?” I asked Stephan finally.
 

He just shook his head.
 
“I’ll tell you later.
 
Please, just give me a minute to compose myself.”
 
His voice was pleading, so I dropped the issue.
 
If he said he’d tell me later, I knew he would.

I was up the second I heard the double ding that indicated we were at ten thousand feet.
 
I started my usual routine, preparing my galley for our breakfast service.
 
I liked the routine, liked routines in general.
 
I found them soothing, in a way.
 

The chaos of my adolescence made me crave stability in my adult life.
 
So my life, even with all of the traveling, followed a schedule and routine that I enjoyed.
 
Saturday morning breakfast service out of New York was a part of that.

Our airline prided itself on it’s first class service, so our breakfast service was extensive.
 
We would be busy until we landed.
 
With first class full, Stephan stayed up front to help me.
 

I worked the galley, and he served.
 
That suited me, especially today, with a volatile James, and some apparently degenerate men in the cabin.
 

Stephan and I didn’t even speak for the first hour as we worked.
 
He was brooding, and we didn’t really need to talk to communicate.
 

We worked together effortlessly, after all these years.
 
He took the passengers’ orders and I read them and made them.
 
As he served, I worked on the next step.
 
We were fast and effective even without speaking.
 

I loved this part of the job.
 
I wasn’t even sure why.
 
Just the busy feel in the air, the familiar galley routine, making sure everyone felt like they had received exceptional service, and like we had done a good job.
 
I supposed I had just spent a large part of my life feeling worthless and lost, and this job, on a good day, made me feel like I had some worth.
 
When I thought of it that way, it sounded pathetic, but that didn’t make it any less true.

I noticed everything we served to James, of course.
 
He drank water exclusively, that I had seen.
 
No ice, just the bottle and a glass.
 
I started putting a slice of lemon in his glass, and he didn’t complain, so I continued to do so.
 

For breakfast, he ordered the only healthy thing we served on the first flight of the day.
 
It was greek yogurt with fresh blueberries and raw pecans.
 
I wasn’t surprised that he was the only one to order it.
 
We usually didn’t have any takers, so Stephan and I often had it for breakfast ourselves.
 
I could’ve guessed from what I had seen of his body that he ate healthy, but that confirmed it.
 

Could I ever be comfortable getting naked with someone that good looking, who had a flawless body, so far as I could tell?
 
I didn’t know how.
 
I tried to stay in shape but I had junk food sometimes, and I probably didn’t work out as often as I could.
 

I thought my thighs were too big, and my ankles were too small, like toothpicks.
 
And my arms were thin, but my hips were a little wide and my shoulders were too broad, to my critical eye.
 
Like every woman, I had body issues.
 
Would James notice them when I was naked?
 
I tried not to dwell on it, but I did anyways.
 
I was relieved when we got too busy for me to think about it anymore.

It was a solid two and a half hours into the flight before Stephan could make his way back to check on the main cabin.
 

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.
 
Brenda is baking the cookies back there right now.
 
I’ll bring some back to add to the cheese service,” Stephan told me as he hung up the inflight phone.
 

I nodded absently.
 
I was prepping our three-tiered cart for the cheese service.
 
There was nothing he could help me with in first class for at least ten minutes, so it was good timing.
 

I heard the bathroom door opening on the other side of the curtain, and shifted the cart to make sure the passenger could get back to their seat before I moved it into position.
 

I was startled when James entered the enclosed galley.
 
He looked much calmer than he had before.
 

I offered him a small smile.
 
“Hey,” I said, studying him carefully, trying to read his mood.

He gave me a small smile back.
 
He moved my cart for me, seeing that I was bearing it’s weight.
 
He used it to block the aisle completely, just outside of the curtained area, managing to stay behind the curtain completely as he did so.
 

“Oh,” I said softly as I watched him rearrange the galley, getting an inkling of what he intended.
 
He was arranging a moment of privacy for…something.
 

I just watched him, mesmerized.
 

He set the brake on the cart with the toe of his shoe easily, as though he did it every day.
 
He took a deep breath, his back to me for one long moment.
 

Abruptly, he turned, pacing to me.
 
He grabbed my braid, pulling my head back.
 
He kissed me, and it was hot and angry and hungry.
 

In spite of myself, I melted in an instant, melding my body as close to his as I could get it.

He backed me up against the counter, lifting me onto the only small bit of empty counter space available.
 
I barely fit.
 
He didn’t stop kissing me.
 

I murmured a protest as I felt his fingers inching my fitted skirt up my legs.
 
He had my thighs bared in a flash, and I pulled back, panting.