Her Perfect Game (11 page)

F
elicity Stone eased her way past the crowd hovering by the boarding gate. God, how she hated airports. Most people were afraid of flying or crashing. For her, being crammed with over a hundred other people was torture. She sought out the farthest seat she could find while she waited for the announcement to board.

It had been bad enough that she had to switch planes, in Chicago of all places, but her first flight had been delayed. Her original thought when she found she had a connecting flight in Chicago was to convince her friend Charlie to meet her at O'Hare for lunch. Then, with any luck, she'd be able to convince Charlie she needed to go on spring break vacation even if it meant letting Felicity buy her plane ticket. The plane being late ruined that plan.

She huffed out her irritation and set her hefty backpack on the floor at her feet. She checked her phone and saw the text from Layla. Her car had broken down in Georgia. Felicity jumped from her seat. Another text said that her wallet had been stolen and included the license and picture of some guy that Layla had decided to go home with. What the heck was she thinking? Layla had always been too quick to trust. At least she left a trail of proof of who this guy was.

Felicity dialed Layla's number and paced. She'd barely gotten three feet when someone tapped her shoulder. She turned and looked up and up. The guy was probably about six feet tall, towering over her barely-over-five-foot height and had dark scruff covering his jaw. She widened her eyes in expectation of the reason for his interruption.

He lifted her bag from his side. “I think you left this—”

She blew out a breath and disconnected the call. “So what? I'm trying to make a call.”

“The thing is, we're in an airport, and I really can't afford not to get to Texas on time.”

“I don't control the plane.”

“But a bag left unattended might get reported.” He still had her bag, dangling from his fingers as though it weighed a few ounces.

“You're being a bit paranoid, don't you think? Every bag left sitting doesn't contain a—”

His other hand quickly covered her mouth. “I will pay you twenty dollars to not finish that sentence. Department of Homeland Security and the TSA do not take kindly to that word being used in an airport.”

She swiped his hand away from her and snatched her bag away from him. Swinging it over her shoulder, the weight pulled at her back.

The guy looked at her and smiled—seriously smiled—and then put out his hand. “I'm Lucas, by the way, and I'm normally not so paranoid, but I have a wedding to get to, and if this plane doesn't leave on time, my family might kill me.”

“So are you going around policing all of the passengers, or just me?”

He dropped his hand and shrugged. “I noticed your bag and was afraid it might be a problem. Sorry I bothered you.”

He turned and walked away, taking the seat two over from where she had staked out her spot. There were four other seats in that row. Did he have to sit within touching distance of her? Felicity took a deep breath. She knew her thoughts were slightly unreasonable. The stress was getting to her.

Layla was stuck in Georgia, but she'd be okay until Felicity landed and could get her some cash. Another deep breath. Layla would
not
leave her to attempt to do spring break on her own. She and Layla went to school mere miles from each other but hardly ever hung out. Their schedules were hectic, so Felicity was really looking forward to spring break. This would be their last spring break since they were all graduating, except Charlie who needed an extra year. By this time next year, Layla would be working at the NSA doing mysterious government security and Felicity would be working at her father's lab in the R & D department developing her own perfume. Frivolous vacations probably wouldn't happen.

Felicity walked back to her seat and wrestled her textbook from her bag. Working out equations would soothe her and ease the gnawing stress. She was scribbling furiously through an equation when she felt another tap on her shoulder. She glanced up and saw the guy staring at her again.

“They're boarding. You were pretty engrossed in what you were doing.”

She blinked rapidly to clear the numbers from her mind. He turned and walked away. She slammed her book closed, and in looking at her watch, realized that she had been working for more than twenty minutes. She watched the guy step into the boarding line. He probably thought she was crazy, or maybe stupid. She shoved her book back into her bag and got in line.

As if sensing her presence, the guy—what the hell was his name?—turned again and looked down at her. “Business or pleasure?”

Now that she really paid attention to him without irritation poking her, she realized he was cute. His dark hair was a little messy, but his blue-gray eyes somehow managed to be both inviting and piercing. “Huh?”

“Are you going to Texas for business or pleasure?” He'd slowed his rate of speech like he was speaking to someone without command of the English language.

“Pleasure. Spring break with a friend.”

His gaze wandered down her body and back up to her face. “What school do you go to?”

“Harvard.”

His mouth opened, he paused, and then did it a couple of more times. Now who looked like he didn't know English?

“South Padre Island?” he finally asked.

She nodded. The line shifted forward.

“You'll love it. It's a lot of fun.”

The flight attendant at the gate asked for his boarding pass and welcomed him aboard. Felicity handed over hers as well, grateful to finally be getting on the plane. Not that she should be in a hurry now since Layla wouldn't be arriving for at least a few days. A sharp spear of panic hit her. What was she supposed to do alone for days?

Once on the plane, Felicity hooked left, suddenly aware that she was following the tall guy. She paused to make sure she was, in fact, in first class. The flight attendant looked at her pass and pointed toward her seat to confirm she was going the right way. As she walked down the aisle to her seat, Felicity saw the same darn guy in her spot. She absolutely couldn't catch a break today.

“Excuse me, you're in my seat.”

He stood, checked his pass, and looked at the window seat beside him. He smiled at her again, this time flashing teeth and a dimple in his right cheek. Damn, he was cute. “Is there any way you would consider switching with me? Even in first class, my legs are cramped. Being in the aisle allows me a little more space.”

The smile dazzled her enough that it took a minute to process what he was saying. She didn't want to give up her aisle seat. Taking the window seat effectively trapped her.

A little voice in her head said that there were worse things to be trapped by than a hot dude with a killer smile.

“Fine. Whatever.” She stepped aside so he could move and she slid into place by the window.

“Would you like me to put your bag up for you?”

“No. I'll keep it here.” She smashed it under the seat as best she could. She would definitely need to be able to work some equations to get through this flight sitting next to him.

He took his seat. “Sorry, I didn't catch your name earlier.”

She leveled a look at him. “I didn't give it.”

His mouth slid into a half smile, enough to let the dimple peek. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. Hi, I'm Lucas. May I ask your name?”

“Felicity.”

“Nice to meet you, Felicity.”

She buckled her seat belt and willed the pilot to get moving.

“So, Harvard, huh? Where are you originally from?”

“Chicago.”

“I'm from Chicago too. Small world. What's your major?”

“Chemistry.” Even as she answered him, she knew he was trying to carry on a conversation and she should do more, but she wasn't good at it.

The flight attendant did her usual safety speech, and the pilot announced they were ready for takeoff. Lucas buckled himself in and suddenly got quiet. The plane began to move, and Felicity felt the waves of tension coming from her seatmate. She looked at him from the corner of her eye. He had a death grip on the armrest, his knuckles white.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded.

She turned back to look out the window.

“Actually, no, I'm not. I don't like to fly.”

“It's no big deal. The flight will only be a few hours.”

“The takeoff and landing are what get to me. My kids have a habit of rattling off statistics, and one of them told me that almost thirty percent of crashes occur during that time.”

“Kids?”

“I'm a teacher.”

She studied him. She'd never had a teacher who looked like him. “Gym?”

“Special ed.”

That surprised her. She couldn't imagine him in a room full of rowdy, out-of-control kids or kids who had a hard time learning. Gym teacher, she could picture. He looked like the athletic type.

“I'm also the baseball coach. Which is why I didn't want to come on this trip. I had to leave my assistant coach in charge of practice while I'm gone.”

She couldn't believe he was nervous. He continued to carry the conversation effortlessly. “Whose wedding?”

“My brother's. He met his fiancée in South Padre and they decided to have a destination wedding. And of course, it had to be over spring break.”

“I guess you didn't have a choice to skip it since it's your brother.”

He laughed. The warm, rich sound tickled through her and she couldn't help but smile back.

A small ping let them know they could release their seat belts, so Felicity did. “Takeoff is done,” she whispered.