Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“Public relations.” I fought back a laugh. “I’m usually pretty good with people, until you stick me on a plane.”
“I think you’re doing just fine.” He grinned, and God help me, a dimple popped in his right cheek.
“What about you? Why go into the army? Why not go to college?” I shut my own book, leaving it in my lap.
“Wasn’t exactly an option. My grades were good, but not good enough to get a scholarship, and there isn’t enough money for cable, let alone college. Honestly, my parents needed my help. They own a small farm just south of Shipman, Illinois.” He looked away. “It’s my mom’s farm, really. My grandfather left it to her. Anyway, the army will pay for college, so off I go.”
I nodded, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think I understood. It was the complete opposite of the way I’d grown up, where the question had been where I was going for undergrad and not if. Mom and Dad jokingly called my tuition a parentship, since they were paying for my education. I’d never had to struggle with the kind of choice Nate was making. “And what do you want to do once you graduate?”
His brow knit. “I haven’t gotten that far yet. Maybe teach. I like English. Something with literature. But maybe I’ll like the army. Special Forces seems pretty awesome too.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. First off, I’d like to welcome you all aboard flight 826 with nonstop service to Atlanta. You may have noticed, but there’s a rather thick layer of fog that’s slowing everyone down this morning, and it looks like we’re twenty-second in line for takeoff, which means it’s going to be about forty minutes or longer before we’re in the air.”
A collective groan sounded from the passengers around us, me included. Forty minutes wouldn’t keep me from my connection to Syracuse, but it would make it tight.
“The good news is that the weather looks good once we break free of this fog, so we’ll try and make up the time in the air. Bear with us, folks, and thanks for flying with us.”
There was a series of pings around us as people pressed their call buttons, no doubt stressed about their own connections.
“Are you connecting in Atlanta?” I asked Nate.
“Yeah, to Columbus, but I have a few hours before that one.” He thumbed the split in his lip and shifted in his seat.
“I have some antibiotic ointment in my purse,” I offered. “Tylenol, too, if it hurts.”
His eyebrows rose. “You keep a first aid kit in your purse?”
My cheeks heated again. “Just the essentials. You never know when you’re going to get stuck on the tarmac with a stranger who has a long story about a split lip.” I smiled slowly.
His laughter was soft, barely discernible. “I’ll be okay. I’ve had worse.”
“That’s not reassuring.” Huh. There was a slight bump in his nose, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d broken it at one point.
He laughed louder this time. “Trust me. It will be okay.”
“That must have been some disagreement.”
“Usually is.” He fell quiet, and my chest tightened at the realization that I’d poked where I had no business poking. Again.
“So, what else have you read off your one hundred must-read books?” I asked.
“Hmm.” He glanced upward, like he was thinking. “The Outsiders, by—”
“S. E. Hinton,” I finished. Shit, I interrupted him. “Go figure. I’m pretty sure they hand that out to every prospective bad boy their freshman year of high school.” I couldn’t stop my smile.
“Hey now—” He drew back like he was wounded. “What about this”—he motioned down his frame—“says that I’m a bad boy? I grew up on a farm.”
I laughed, forgetting that we were moving steadily forward through the takeoff line. “That body? That face? That cut on your lip? Those scraped-up knuckles?” I glanced at where his sleeve met his arm, noting the swirls of black ink. “Oh, and tattoos? Quintessential bad boy material right there. I bet you left a plethora of broken hearts in your wake.”
“Who says plethora in a normal conversation?” His smile only made mine bigger. Bad boy or not, I knew Nate’s smile must have dropped its share of panties, because if we weren’t on this plane, I might have considered my first one-night stand. “I’ll tell you who. Good little college girls.”
“Guilty as charged.” I lifted my brows at him. “You even have the hot, broody reading vibe down. Very Jess Mariano of you.”
“Jess who?” He blinked in confusion.
“Jess Mariano,” I managed. Those eyes were going to be the death of me. The shade reminded me of the Ice Lakes up by Silverton, not quite glacial. More like aqua. “You know, from Gilmore Girls.”
“Never seen it.” He shook his head.
“Well, if you ever do, just remember that you’re pretty much Jess, just . . . taller and hotter.” I slammed my lips shut.