Landing the Air Marshal (Snowpocalypse) Read online

  She blew out a breath and tapped her pen against her desk. The real world blew now that she had a taste of fantasy. It was proving hard to focus on the contract she was working up with the Winchester to use their penthouse for filming. Her little oasis was going to be in a blockbuster hit, and she definitely wouldn’t be thinking about Gage when she went to the premier.

  Rob knocked on the doorframe, steam from his mug of coffee swirling in the air. “Abby. I just saw the pictures you sent. Absolutely amazing. Great work.” He saluted her with his mug. “Not that I’d expect anything less.”

  She smiled. But something didn’t feel right. A compliment from Rob used to mean everything. It was her whole point in life. Sad. But true. Now, she didn’t feel nearly as satisfied.

  Oh, that jerk. He had to go and ruin her at work, too. Nothing seemed as important now. Maybe he’d done her a favor, putting things into perspective. Work really wasn’t the end-all-be-all, she was quickly realizing. It just would have been nice to find that out without putting her feelings on the line. It was much easier to be closed off to any type of relationship.

  Now? Well, now her browser history was filled with the quest to find the perfect silicone companion. And Tumblr. Jesus, that place was a dirty, dirty rabbit hole of smexiness. She’d been home for less than twenty-four hours, and she’d turned into a completely different person. Hell, she’d take those naughty GIFs and her newly ordered pocket rocket and go down in a blaze of lusty glory.

  What she wouldn’t do? Miss Gage one bit. Nope, not him being ten kinds of wonderful. Definitely not how he’d shown her what it was like to truly be taken care of in the bedroom, and how romance and chivalry weren’t dead. Okay, so she’d chew on those lies for at least a few weeks while she nursed her wounded pride. But really, romance ended. It was only real in novels and chick flicks, and news flash, last time she checked, she wasn’t in one. He’d done her a favor, really, because now that she knew what it was like to be all consumed by a weekend fling, she wouldn’t let her guard down again. It wasn’t worth the potential heartbreak.

  She looked up and found her boss still standing there, sipping at his coffee. How long had she zoned out? Obviously not too long, if he hadn’t cleared his throat or given her funny looks.

  Rob smiled at her again. “It’s the perfect location for Blurred Lines.”

  “I think so, too.” Although, deep down, she felt a protective need to keep that penthouse to herself. A secret that only she and Gage kept. Which was ridiculous. It was a hotel penthouse suite. People used it. She wasn’t the first, and she certainly wouldn’t be the last. She had no claim on it. And yet, she felt like she was being sucker punched in the gut. This was exactly why she kept to her planner. It was safe, sterile, and didn’t make her heart go into palpitations. Whatever. She needed to forget Gage as quickly as he’d been able to kick her to the curb.

  “Keep this up and you’re looking good for taking over my position when I retire in a few months.”

  “Thanks, Rob.” She sighed. Dammit, muster up some enthusiasm, girl. You’ve been busting your tail for years for this.

  “I’d like to send you to Dublin to scout out a new set for the Irish film that we just bought rights to. Would you be up for that next Thursday?”

  “Sure thing.” Anything to keep her mind off this. So what if, for the second time this month, she’d be strapped into a hunk of metal that could plummet into the ground? At least her mind would be focused on something productive—like staying alive.

  Jeremy would be so pissed. This should have given her a little thrill, because the man really needed to be taken down a few pegs, but a dull ache pulsed in her chest, and she didn’t know if she was exhibiting heart attack symptoms, or just the fact that she felt friggin’ empty for the first time in her life. She didn’t like this feeling. Not one bit. Damn Gage Michaels and his stupid magic dick with mind altering powers.

  She wished she could go back to a couple weeks ago, when she was pleasantly numb to any form of human contact. That would be much preferable to this…she didn’t even know what this was.

  The to-go coffee cup in her hand had turned cold, and she’d barely even taken two sips from it. Those two sips sent her back to the penthouse when Gage had brought her coffee in bed. Was that what nice guys did? Then again, nice guys didn’t slip out in the middle of the night—even if it was easier to deal with.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Gage paced in the hallway of Jill’s home. Emily was taking a nap, and he didn’t want to face the wrath of his sister if he woke the kid up early.

  “You’re going to wear a hole in my carpet. Sit down,” she ordered.

  Bossiness was a hereditary trait on their mother’s side. The whole damn family, including him, wanted to be in control. Which was fine in small doses with one another, but anything past a dinner or two a week and there was bound to be a smackdown in the near future.

  “Man, brother, who stole your Halloween candy? Why so glum?”

  He regarded his sister. She’d been through so much lately. With Derrek leaving her, and being a single mom, it was enough to drain even a seasoned Ironman competitor. Jill used to have this vibrant light about her, always brightening a room. With the two-year age difference, they’d always been close. He could tell her about Abby if he wanted to, but did he really? He didn’t generally talk about his feelings to anyone, especially about people he hooked up with, but this was different to Gage. His stomach rolled, and he felt like he might vomit. Two-night stands were not supposed to end this way.

  “I met someone.”

  Her face brightened. “Is it Mrs. Barker’s niece? I heard she just came into town.”

  “No.” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “I met someone while traveling to New York.”

  “Oh. Well, New York isn’t too far away. Just a couple hour flight,” Jill amended. For someone who had gone through a whirlwind of unfortunate events, it always surprised him how she managed to have a positive outlook on everything, never pitying herself, and definitely not pitying others. Maybe it was all those damn Disney films Emily made her watch. And here Gage was pouting like a teenager about a hookup over the weekend. It didn’t feel right to think of Abby that way, but really, it wasn’t going to make it better thinking about her in terms of a relationship.

  “She’s from California.”

  “Oh.” The one word held all the weight of what he knew his whole family would feel. An outsider. Someone who didn’t belong. Someone not Southern.

  “She’s special, Jill. Something about her, I can’t get her out of my head.”

  “Then why don’t you call her?”

  Gage chewed on the inside of his lip. “I can’t.”

  She raised a brow.

  “I didn’t get her number. Or anything. I have no clue how to get in contact with her. She’s gone.”

  “I don’t understand. If you like the girl, why didn’t you get her number?”

  ’Cause I’m a shithead, Jill. A coward and a shithead. He let out a loud sigh and threw his hands above his head. “Because I’m an idiot.” He thought he was doing Abby a favor by cutting all ties, pretending that the weekend was just a blip on his radar. Now, on the other side of the situation, with no number, no address, nada, well, that decision was fucking stupid.

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Mom loves me better.” He shot his sister a grin.

  She smacked his arm and gave him a wry smile. “She does not. I gave her a grandbaby. You’re one peg below me on the totem pole, now.”

  A pang hit Gage square in the gut at this. He was by no means ready to be a dad himself, but he wanted to be someday, and he’d never felt the urge to be in a steady relationship—or the semblance of one anyway—until he met Abby. What was she doing right now? Was she at work? At her next big set? He frowned at the thought of her traveling alone and having another panic attack during takeoff or landing. Or both. He wanted to be there with her, to comfort her, and th
at honestly scared the shit out of him.

  “Come to dinner tonight. Maybe our dinner guest will get your mind off this girl.”

  “Yeah. Good idea.” Even if he didn’t want to, it was probably safer to forget Abby as quickly as possible. Anything to get rid of this pain in his chest.

  …

  That evening at dinner, Gage’s mom had sweet tea on the table along with her county fair blue ribbon winning pecan pie. Suzanna Troy, the honored guest to grace his mother’s dining room table that night, wore a pale pink dress and sensible shoes. Gage laughed to himself at the thought of Abby wearing these shoes. Something told him she’d never be caught dead in flats. Not even in a fucking blizzard in New York…

  “This pie is out of this world, Mrs. Michaels.” Suzanna took little nibbles of the slice on her plate, and it drove Gage up the fucking wall how she’d barely touched her dinner. He liked a woman who could eat. Someone like Abby. And dammit, he was doing it again. Ever since he left her, she’d been on his mind like a song on constant replay.

  “Bless your heart,” his mom said to Suzanna.

  He could feel his mother’s gaze on him before he even looked up. He was being rude, he knew that, but he didn’t have anything to say to this woman who talked on and on about a pageant life that was ten years prior. Other than earning a few titles, she didn’t seem to have much going for her. She definitely didn’t seem as driven as Abby career-wise, something he found completely sexy. Abby would understand why Gage had to work so much—hell, she even offered to meet up every few weeks. What was wrong with him that he turned that down?

  A lot was wrong with him, that was certain.

  He couldn’t stand one more minute of this sugary sweet girl who was all fake smiles and propriety. He wanted Abby—wanted her lazy smiles and the way she drove him half mad. That was that. He had to do something. Sitting around, moping wasn’t his style. No, he was a man of action. Something needed to be done about this situation. The chair screeched against the wood floors as Gage pushed away from the table.

  “What are you doing?” His mother looked at him, her face pulled into a tight smile, but she clutched the fork in her hand hard enough that he thought she might bend it in half.

  “I need to go. I apologize.” He nodded toward Suzanna. “It was a pleasure meeting you. I wish you the best.”

  There. He’d done his part, played in his mother’s charade, but he was officially done. It was time to get the girl back. Somehow. He didn’t quite know the logistics of it yet, but hell, he had the will, so he’d damn sure find a way.

  He tossed his napkin onto his plate and then moved toward the small entryway of his mother’s house. She rushed through the hallway and put a hand on the door as he went to open it.

  “What do you think you’re doing? I set up this dinner for you.” She was doing her best to keep her voice down, to not let Suzanna know that anything was wrong.

  Anger simmered low in his gut. “No, you didn’t,” he said, matter-of-factly. “You set it up for yourself. But I already have someone in mind, and it is definitely not someone who has been in pageants or drinks sweet tea.”

  His mother stepped back, flabbergasted. “Do I know this woman?”

  “No. I don’t even know where she lives. But when I do find her, you will treat her as nicely as you do all the other women who sit at our dinner table,” he warned. He’d never raised his voice to his mother, but he was dead serious that he wouldn’t come back around his family unless they were nice to Abby—if he was able to find her.

  He felt so goddamn ridiculous saying this aloud. Really, he wasn’t even sure he’d ever see Abby again. How the hell was he supposed to track her down without even a phone number? But not trying was the worst possible mistake he could make. He had to at least give it a shot. And the only way he knew how was boarding a plane and making a call to lost and found.

  …

  Abby stared at the computer monitor, head in her hands, scrolling through locations for the new western movie they’d acquired this morning. Her fingers drummed along the hollow of her cheek, and she let out a heavy sigh. It had been five days, and she still couldn’t get her mind off Gage no matter how hard she tried. Oh, and she tried. She tried so hard, in fact, that she might be flagged by Amazon for the number of sex toys she’d had overnighted in the past few days. Ugh, nothing was the same as Gage’s hands. Or mouth. Or…she banged her head against her desk. Sex sickness was a real thing, and she was a junkie going through cock withdrawal. She’d always thought those internet memes that said “she wants the D” were so corny. But she totally wanted the D. Badly.

  Maybe she’d set up her online dating account tonight. That would give her something to focus on other than the fact that she missed someone she shouldn’t. How could she have these feelings for someone who she barely knew? Someone who left her without saying a word. Yep. Whatever. She needed to forget him. Obviously, it was a weekend fling. Weekend was over. Case closed. End of discussion. Time to move on and get back in the saddle of the dating world before her sex toy collection spiraled out of control.

  Her sister’s number flashed across the screen as her phone buzzed on her desk. Abby let out a heavy sigh and then answered. “What’s going on?”

  “Just letting you know I’ll be on a conference call for the next hour. Wanted you to know, in case you need to reach me.”

  Abby gave her sister major side-eye. If only her sister could actually see this, it’d be way more effective. “Okay, why are you really calling?”

  Ella paused, probably contemplating not coming clean. But her sister always spoke her mind, and a few seconds later, she said, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You sounded really mopey on the phone yesterday. I worry about you.”

  The last thing she wanted was to be pitied, or for someone to worry about her. She was a big girl. Big girls handled weekend flings like pros, so that’s exactly what she’d do. And in the meantime, instead of being an old cat lady, she’d become the old dildo lady. Wow, that did not sound appealing one bit.

  “I love the whole big sister concern, but I’ll be okay.” One weekend wouldn’t ruin her for a lifetime, right? She’d get out of this funk, and then she’d be okay.

  “Right. I know you’ll be okay, but you don’t have to put on a front with me. It’s okay to let your guard down every once in a while.”

  She scoffed. “Wasn’t worth it.”

  “Really?” Ella asked.

  “No.” Okay, maybe it was, but she was too proud to admit that. Plus, if she ever did see him again, she’d tell him to go take a long walk off a short pier. After she eye-fucked the shit out of him…and maybe tasted his lips one more time.

  “I’m here if you need to talk.”

  “Thanks.” She sighed and hung up the phone. She glanced at the clock and was startled to find that it was well past seven. This was why a relationship would never work out with a normal person. They’d expect her to be home at a suitable time every night. They didn’t understand that her work was demanding, and it was her life. She blew out a frustrated breath and her bangs fanned across her forehead. Ah, the life of a young professional. So glamorous, so lonely.

  She shut her laptop and shoved it into her leather travel bag. The palm trees outside her window were lit up with twinkle lights, and at this time of night, she had a nice view of the Hollywood sign. She was meant for this, right? She sure as shit hoped so, because this was where her life was heading. If she didn’t find a guy who could accommodate her schedule, then he didn’t deserve her anyway. But at this rate, odds were looking slim that she’d ever have time to even go on a date, let alone find someone to date.

  She sighed and turned back to her desk, grabbed her belongings, and then left the office. After picking up Chinese on the way home and singing some Adele at the top of her lungs, she was feeling slightly better and maybe slightly silly. She never thought she’d be the type of person to act like a sad country song over the loss of a guy, singing cheesy
love songs in the car. But here she was. Hell apparently did freeze over.

  Abby parked her beat-up Corolla in the driveway of her apartment complex and cut the engine. She grabbed her takeout bag, laptop case, and her purse and headed for the door. She paused in front of the dented door of her apartment and gave a wistful sigh, thinking how she would give back all her sex toy binge purchases to be back in the luxurious penthouse, snuggling into the soft goose feather comforter and crisp, clean linen sheets. She procured her key from her purse while juggling all of her bags in the other hand and managed to unlock her door without dropping her egg flower soup and mandarin chicken.

  Something immediately felt off when Abby opened the door. First, there were dozens upon dozens of sunflowers in her kitchen. She didn’t have a roommate, so there was no one to let a delivery in. The only person that could have was her landlord, but he was a lazy ass who barely took the time to fix a leaky pipe, let alone make sure flowers didn’t sit out in the hall.

  “Hello?” she called. She looked around for something to hit a potential intruder with but the best she could come up with was her dictionary on the end table. Really, that would maybe stun them for a second before they slaughtered her. She could chuck the egg flower soup in their face and scald them, but dammit, this was the best in the city. Not worth going on some intruder’s face. She walked into the kitchen and inhaled the fresh scent of the sunflowers and closed her eyes. There were hundreds of flowers in here, way too many for such a small kitchen. Who in the world would be sending her these? Maybe her boss? Although, that seemed a little weird, even though they were close. It wasn’t even her birthday.

  She looked at all the vases, but there wasn’t a card from a sender, nothing to say who her admirer was. Whoever it was knew that these were her favorite flower. Maybe her sister? She had been concerned that she was down, but it wasn’t like her to spend money on something like this. A singing telegram? Maybe. But not on a shitload of flowers that smelled amazing and really lit up her dark, should-have-been-demolished-in-the-eighties apartment.