“Amie.” I give her shoulder a gentle shake and smile, appreciating the shortened version of her name now that I know how she came by it.
She blinks and looks around, disoriented. She scrambles up, the blanket falling away, giving me yet another glimpse of those blue-ball-inducing garters. She looks around frantically, blows out a breath, and settles in her seat. She touches her lips. “I had the strangest dream.”
“Oh yeah, what was it about?”
Her cheeks flush as she looks me over. “Oh, um . . . I can’t remember.” She busies herself, adjusting her skirt and blouse. “I’m a wrinkled mess.”
“You’re gorgeous.” I realize I’m staring and focus on the menu. “They’re serving breakfast. Are you hungry?’
“Starving.” She yawns and stretches. “Wait, breakfast? How long have I been asleep? How many more hours until we land?”
“Less than two according to the flight attendant.” I set the menu on the console between us.
“Seriously? I slept for nine hours? I think the last time I did that was in high school.”
“You obviously needed it.”
“Clearly.” She browses the options. “Everything sounds good. Oh God, waffles. I think it’s been more than a year since I’ve eaten a waffle. What’re you getting?” She leans in, her forearm resting against mine.
It really shouldn’t feel this natural to wake up beside her. “I was thinking the yogurt parfait or the muesli.” I tap the options under the healthy selection.
Amalie wrinkles her nose. “Seriously?”
I laugh. “No. Not seriously. I’m either feeling the bacon and eggs or the omelet.”
“Oooh, those both sound good.” She bites that plush bottom lip. “It’s so hard to decide. I haven’t had bacon in forever, either.” After a few more seconds of mulling, she grabs my forearm. “I have an idea. Why don’t I get the waffle, and you get the bacon and eggs, or the omelet, and we can share?” She withdraws her hand. “Unless you’re worried about germs.”
“I’m not worried about germs unless you plan on licking everything on the plate first.”
She makes a face. It’s so fucking cute. I don’t know how one woman can be so sexy and so sweet at the same time. “Um, no, that’s just gross.”
“I think we’re good then.”
The flight attendant returns with the breakfast cart. Amalie declines the mimosa and opts for coffee and water. We eat off each other’s plates like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It feels like too short a time before we begin our descent. I’ve never wanted a flight to be longer, but today I do. Amalie is quiet, staring out the window as we approach the island. She grips the armrest when the wheels touch down. I note her crossed fingers and then the way she relaxes when the plane slows.
“Are you afraid of flying?” I ask.
She looks over at me. “What?”
“You were crossing your fingers when we landed.”
“Oh.” Her smile is wry. “I’m not afraid of being in the air. It’s the takeoff and landing that make me nervous. It’s why I always have a couple of drinks before I fly, cuts the nerves.”
“I’m pretty sure an entire bottle of champagne qualifies as more than a couple of drinks.”
Amalie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. She retrieves her purse from under the seat, pops a square of gum into her mouth, and checks her reflection in a small compact mirror. “I look like last night’s hooker. Why didn’t you tell me my hair was this bad?”
“It looks good to me.”
While she works on fixing her perfectly acceptable appearance, I put all my files back in my bag and make sure I have my phone, iPad, and laptop. Last year Bane left his phone and iPad on a plane and couldn’t communicate with anyone until he had them replaced. That caused a shit show with Ruby, his now live-in girlfriend. And while I don’t have anyone waiting for me back home, I can’t afford to be without my laptop on this trip, or my phone.
“Could you pass me my jacket please?” I point to the floor at her feet.
Amalie reaches down and picks up my jacket. “How’d that get over here?”
“It was a makeshift blanket until the flight attendant came by with a real one.” I leave out the part where I did it to cover her thigh highs and the thin strap of her garters.
She passes it to me. “Thank you. That was thoughtful.”
“It was really nothing.”
“Armstrong would’ve been too worried I’d wrinkle his jacket to do something that considerate.”
“That’s because Armstrong’s a dick.”
Amalie regards me for a few seconds. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” I shrug into my jacket, adjusting my collar and tightening my tie.
“Why don’t you two get along?”
“Because he’s a dick.”
“Funny. That’s the same answer I got out of him.”
I sigh. I don’t want to get into this with her. “Sometimes people just don’t see eye to eye. Armstrong and I are like that. And he’s an actual dick who does dickhead things because he enjoys it.”
“I learned that too late, I think.”
The seat-belt light dings and the first-class cabin begins to disembark. I help Amalie with her carry-on and we head for baggage claim together.
“Where are you staying?” I ask as we wait for her bags to come around. She has more than one, likely because she’d planned to spend half of her vacation in lingerie. I throw a mental middle finger at Armstrong for missing out on it. Then I consider that someone else, some random hook-up, might get to see what Armstrong is missing.
“At the Haven.”
“You’ll love it there.” Of course she’s staying at one of my family’s properties. I can’t believe I didn’t ask before now. It’s on the opposite end of the island from where I’m staying, but it’s a small island, so it’s still not very far. I can’t decide if being at the same resort would be good or bad. I’d be tempted to find reasons to see her, and that would inevitably lead to more flirting, which could lead to other, more complicated adventures. If she offered the opportunity, I’d be hard-pressed not to take it.
“Armstrong and I came here several months ago and stayed a couple of nights at each of your resorts. I liked the Mills Resort and Spa best, but Armstrong thought this would be nicer. More private.”
He was right about that. The Haven is far more secluded, with private beachhouses set into the lush landscape. The Mills Resort and Spa is set on the water with a fabulous view of the inactive volcano, which is where I’m staying for now. I imagine Armstrong wanted the beachhouse because he’s not a huge fan of water and the shallow beach would be a better option. Where Amalie is staying is also our honeymoon resort. It’s the newest, the most recently updated, and needs the least of my attention while I’m here.
I collect our bags from the carousel and we head out into the beautiful, hot sunny day. Amalie slips on a pair of huge sunglasses. “What about you? Where are you staying?”
“On the other side of the island at the Resort and Spa.”