Skylar couldn’t have been more excited about Kris and Nate’s relationship than if she’d gotten into Stanford and met Shawn Mendes on the same day.
When Nate broke the news, Skylar contained herself for all of thirty seconds before she blurted, “I told you you guys would be perfect together!” and demanded bridesmaid privileges at their wedding. She’d then rushed off and returned an hour later with a list of romantic date ideas because she would “not let Nate mess this up.”
The entire ordeal had been disconcerting. Nate supposed his sister had been right about him and Kris up to this point, but they weren’t getting married. For one, he doubted Kris’s father would approve. For two, they’d both agreed they wouldn’t do the long-distance thing. He’d seen the toll such relationships took on other couples—the missed calls and texts, the frustration over not being able to see the other person when you wanted, the resentment over being tied to someone thousands of miles away. That was only the beginning. After that came jealousy, suspicion, irrational fights, and finally, a resigned, inevitable breakup. Days and weeks and hours wasted, clinging on to something that never had a chance.
Nate didn’t want that to be them. He’d rather they end things at the height of their heat and passion, untainted by broken promises and faded dreams—even if the thought of not seeing Kris again twisted his insides into suffocating knots.
“You okay?” She peered at him beneath thick, dark lashes. “You have a weird look on your face.”
“Yeah.” Nate stroked her shoulder, savoring the soft warmth of her skin. “I was just thinking about the shoot.”
Screw it. If they were on borrowed time, he would enjoy every second while it lasted. So far, dating Kris had been a blast. They bantered and bickered like normal, only now there were a lot more makeout sessions and date nights involved. They both drew the line at handholding, though—too juvenile and cheesy, they’d agreed.
Plus, Nate hadn’t entirely been lying when he said he’d been thinking about the shoot. His appearance in Six Doors Down, the Oscar Bravo thriller, had him on edge. Shooting started soon, and while the role wasn’t Tom Cruise in Risky Business or Brad Pitt in Thelma and Louise big—Nate only had a few lines—he could parlay it into something much bigger down the line if he played his cards right.
“You’ll blow Oscar’s socks off.” Kris snuggled deeper into his side. “You’re hotter than him, anyway.”
Nate chuckled. “Thanks, but that’s not exactly a bonus.” Oscar was mega talented, but he was also notoriously vain and competitive. He couldn’t stand being upstaged.
“Hey, guys. Sorry I’m late!” What had to be Tesla Teague loped toward them, looking particularly douchey in a pale blue polo shirt and khakis. “Traffic.”
“No problem,” Kris said. “Nate, this is Teague. Teague, this is Nate.”
“Her boyfriend,” Nate couldn’t resist adding, baring his teeth in a semblance of a smile.
Teague looked amused, but at least he was smart enough not to offer his hand for a shake. Nate would’ve been liable to bite it off.
“Nice to meet you, and hey, congrats.” The blond’s eyes sparkled. “Not every guy has what it takes to date Kris Carrera.”
“I’m taking that as a compliment,” Kris said.
“It was,” Teague reassured her.
Nate growled. Maybe the guy wasn’t so smart after all, if he was flirting with Kris right in front of him.
His Six Doors Down role involved knocking a few guys around. He could punch Teague and write it off as character prep.
The blond cleared his throat and took a tiny step back. “Anyway, you guys ready? I have a sport pilot license and have taken a half dozen friends on flights before, so I know what I’m doing. Don’t worry.”
“I’m sure you do.” Kris twisted her hair up into a bun. “Conquering the seas and now the skies? Not bad.”
“You know me, always chasing the next thrill.” Teague glanced at the sleek white aircraft waiting for them. “I’m going to fire Maverick up. You guys decide who wants to go first.”
Kris arched an eyebrow. “Seriously? You named your plane Maverick?”
“Top Gun,” Nate and Teague said at the same time.
She sighed. “I’ll never understand men and their obsession with naming their vehicles, land-based and otherwise.”
“We have deep bonds with our cars,” Nate informed her while Teague walked off to ready the aircraft. “Or planes, if you’re a douche.”
“Nate.”
“Just saying.”
Kris tilted her head and examined him. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said. “Not if you don’t want to.”
He looked away, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I do.”
When Kris mentioned Teague had invited her on a private flight to show off his flying chops, Nate had invited himself along because he didn’t trust that Tesla-driving, Kris-kissing (it had been on the cheek, but still) fucker as far as he could throw him. He soon realized it didn’t matter if he was here, because sport pilot rules stipulated the pilot could only bring one passenger at a time, which meant Nate would be waiting on the ground like a chump while Teague took his girlfriend on a romantic flight in the skies.
That was bad enough, but then he’d gotten the bright idea that this would be a good time to get over his flying phobia, which had manifested itself…yep, five years ago. Right after his mom died in a plane crash.
Imagine that.
Nate wasn’t completely debilitated by the thought of being in the air, but as he’d told Kris earlier this summer, he would rather not fly if he didn’t have to. Why tempt fate?
“You sure?” Kris didn’t seem convinced.
He ran a hand over his face, his heart thumping with nerves as the hum of the plane’s engine filled the hangar. “Not at all. But if I don’t do it now, when am I going to do it?” His features tightened. “I chewed out my dad for not facing up to my mom’s death and drowning his sorrows in alcohol. My method of coping has been…different, but it’s been five years, and while I will always miss my mom, I need to let go of the hang-ups I have around how she died. That includes getting over my fear of flying. So no, I’m not sure this is what I want to do. In fact, I know I don’t want to do it. But I need to.”
Now that he’d gotten all of that out, he could breathe easier, but a coil of tension remained at the base of his spine. Fuck, why were plane engines so loud?
“I understand.” Kris squeezed his hand. “I’ll be here waiting for you when you land. Maybe you and Teague will become friends during your joy ride in the sky,” she teased.
Nate snorted. “Yeah, I think the chances of me getting my own sport pilot license and private plane are higher.”
Teague popped open his door, looking like the preppiest pilot on the planet with his aviation headset and polo shirt. “Ready when you are!” he shouted over the engine noise. “Who’s first?”
Kris glanced at Nate.
“I’ll go first,” he said, controlling the shake in his voice. “Rip it off like a Band-Aid, right?”
“Exactly.” She kissed him, and he felt marginally better about marching toward his death. “You got this.”
Nope. As Nate walked toward the plane, he most definitely did not have it. His palms were sweating like a motherfucker’s, and his heart was about to climb its way out of his chest.
But it was too late to turn back.
He settled into the passenger seat and slipped on the headset Teague gave him.
Get your shit together. You can do this.
“You okay, man?” Teague cast a concerned glance in Nate’s direction as he taxied onto the runway. “You look a little green.”
“I’m fine,” Nate said in a clipped voice.
“All right.” The other man sounded dubious, but he didn’t push it.
Despite what Nate said, his mild aerophobia had ratcheted up in intensity.
Shortness of breath? Check.
Increased heart rate? Check.
Waves of nausea rolling in his stomach? Check.
Mental images of the plane crashing in a fiery ball? Check.
Fuck. Nate should’ve never gotten into this tiny death craft. What would happen to Skylar once he died? God knew their father couldn’t take care of himself these days, much less his daughter. And Kris. He would never see Kris again. He should’ve kissed her harder, longer. He should’ve told her—
The plane ascended, and there was a strong possibility he was going to throw up.
Nate closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. The last—and only—time he’d been on a plane since his mother died had been two years ago, when his family had flown to North Carolina for his cousin’s wedding. If Nate hadn’t been a groomsman, he would’ve skipped the whole thing.
Fortunately, he’d taken an Ambien and knocked out for the entire flight.
He didn’t have that luxury now.
“…that view.” Teague’s voice came through his headset, staticky and irritating.
“What?”
“Look at that view,” the blond repeated. “You seen anything like that before?”
Nate forced himself to crack his eyes open, because no way in hell would he admit his phobia to Teague.
Thump. Thump. Thumpthumpthump.
Yeah, his heart wasn’t happy at all, but Teague was right about one thing—that was a helluva view. From this vantage point, L.A. was a canvas of green interspersed with tiny boxes that, on the ground, were massive mansions and studio sets and theaters. Dark mountains loomed in the distance, their outlines sharp against the afternoon sky.
“It’s pretty cool,” Nate managed.
It was the truth. There was nothing like a bird’s-eye view to make even the biggest earthly concerns seem like small, trivial matters. Here, it was just Nate and the sky and…a scrap of metal kept afloat by an engine that could fail any minute—
“I’m glad you and Kris are together,” Teague said.
“Is that so?” Nate’s suspicion overrode his phobia for a brief second.
“Yeah. She and I, we’ve been friends for a long time, but I’ve never seen her let anyone in. She doesn’t date often, much less date guys she’s only known for a month or two.” Teague flicked a glance at Nate. “Except for you.”
Nate’s smile was equal parts warning and satisfaction. “What can I say? Guess I’m special.”
“Guess you are.” Teague maneuvered the plane to the right. “I know what you’re thinking, but Kris and I aren’t like that. We kissed once—”
“What?”
Fuck crashing because of engine failure. Nate was about to toss the pilot out of the plane with his bare hands.
“A long time ago, and we were sloshed,” Teague added quickly. “Confirmed what we both knew, which is that we’re better off as friends, and—can you please stop growling?”
That was when Nate realized the low, threatening snarl reverberating through the cockpit was coming from his own throat.
He simmered down but continued glaring at the other man.
“All I’m saying is, I hope you can bring Kris out of her shell. She hasn’t had the easiest time, with her mom gone and her dad not around much.”
I can relate, Nate thought, his heart pinching at the thought of Kris experiencing the same dark emotions that kept him up late at night.
“Our relationship is our business,” he said gruffly. “But Kris…yeah. I’m gonna do my best. She’s worth it, though she doesn’t always make it easy.”
Teague laughed. “No, she doesn’t. That sharp tongue of hers can slice a man in half.”
“Try in quarters.”
Another laugh, then sudden, absolute silence. As in, no engine humming.
What the…
Nate’s head jerked around. He expected to see the earth hurtling toward him in the last moments of his life, but everything was still and quiet.
Concrete. Grass. Kris waving in the distance.
Holy shit, he’d survived. Not only that, he’d been so caught up in his conversation with Teague that he hadn’t noticed their descent.
Relief fizzled through Nate’s body in a rush, leaving him lightheaded and woozy. He took off his headset, mumbled his thanks to Teague, and clambered out of the plane. It took everything he had not to run to Kris, who watched him approach with a half-hopeful, half-wary expression.
“How was it?”
He responded by sweeping her up in his arms and kissing her senseless. God, holding her felt good. He’d been so sure he was going to die up there and never seen her again.
“I take it it went well,” Kris laughed when they broke apart. “And Teague isn’t sporting a black eye or any broken bones, so that’s good.”
“It went okay.” Nate tucked her protectively into his chest. “I’m still not a hundred percent comfortable with flying, but it’s one of those things I have to ease back into, I guess.”
“It’s a good first step.” Kris brushed her lips over his jaw. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks.” He flashed a quick smile. “Does that mean we can go now? No need for you to be alone with the dou—uh, Teague—in that tiny aircraft. He’s not that good of a pilot.”
He glared at the blond, who was waiting for Kris in the plane.
“Nice try.”
Nate’s shoulders slumped. “Had to give it a shot.” Then he remembered what Teague said and straightened up, narrowing his eyes. “Before you get on that plane…tell me when, exactly, did you two make out? And who’s the better kisser, him or me?”
KRIS WAS STILL FLYING high (no pun intended) from her time with Nate and Teague when she and Gloria left for their Roger-mandated “bonding time” the next day. Once she’d assured a grumpy Nate that he was a superior kisser to Teague—whom she’d have to kill for telling Nate about their ill-advised makeout session all those years ago—she’d had a blast. Teague was a fantastic pilot, and after they left the private airfield, they’d all gotten dinner at a restaurant that served some of the best seafood in the city. Teague had split after that, and Kris and Nate had gone back to her house, where they’d had multiple rounds of mind-blowing sex.
As usual, Kris’s father had been holed up in his study and had missed Nate’s coming and going. Gloria, on the other hand, had spotted him on his way out, and now she glared at Kris in the backseat of their Uber like Kris had stolen her favorite Hermès Birkin.
Kris ignored the Stepmonster and examined her nails.
Hmmm, might need to get a touch up at the spa…
“I’m surprised you and Nate have lasted this long.” Gloria’s drawl carried more bite than usual now that Roger wasn’t around.
“Why is that?” Kris asked, bored.
She and Gloria hadn’t been able to agree on whose car to take for their oh-so-wonderful bonding sessions and had settled on a private Uber to take them to the spa. Not a regular Uber either, but an Uber XL, so they could sit as far from each other as possible.
Usually, these car rides were filled with nothing but the sound of the driver’s music of choice and the clack-clack-clack of Gloria’s talon-like nails as she e-shopped Nordstrom on her phone, but it appeared the Stepmonster was in a chatty mood.
Lucky Kris.
“You’ve never been able to hold on to your men.” Gloria clucked. “So disappointin’, darlin’. If you’d only come to me, I could give you a few tips.”
“Thanks, but I have no desire to learn how to dig for gold. I have my own.” Kris let out a deliberate yawn. “Excuse me, but Nate kept me up all night, and I didn’t get a lot of sleep.”
Gloria’s smile turned nasty. “I’d just be careful your boyfriend doesn’t go straying on you. That would be a tragedy.”
Her Southern accent had all but disappeared—Kris knew the other woman played that shit up. According to the background check she’d run on Gloria when the Stepmonster first started dating Roger, Gloria had been born in Georgia, but her family moved to Washington when she was nine. That whole Southern belle thing was basically a fraud.
Whatever. Kris had bigger fish to fry than the Stepmonster’s Dixie delusions.
Gloria was acting so smug because she thought Nate was unsatisfied with his relationship and stepping out on Kris, per his now-canceled hotel engagement with the redhead.
If you only knew…
Kris was tempted to spill the truth about Nate’s “interest” in Gloria, if only so she could knock that triumphant smirk off the woman’s overly glossed lips, but that would be a huge tactical error.
There’d been a brief period when she thought she and Gloria might get along—before she met the woman. But the moment they laid eyes on each other, it had been animosity at first sight, with Kris seeing right through the redhead’s fake smile and fake boobs and fake (or at least overplayed) accent, and Gloria looking Kris over like she was her competition in a Miss Georgia pageant.
Which was so inappropriate, considering Gloria was marrying Kris’s freakin’ father. Then again, Gloria was only a few years older and a few dozen IQ points slower than Kris.
“I’m not worried,” Kris said coolly. “You focus on your relationship, and I’ll focus on mine. There are still a couple of months left until the wedding.” A tight smile. “Wouldn’t want anything to go wrong before The Big Day.”
“Oh, nothing’s going to go wrong.” Gloria fiddled with her engagement ring—on purpose, no doubt. “Since we’re dispensing advice, I’d caution you to be careful with your spending, darlin’. I’ve been talking to your father, and he’s not happy. I’d hate for anything to happen to your trust fund.”
Kris was over this conversation.
Gloria was getting desperate if she was trying to threaten Kris’s trust fund, which was rock solid and would come into her possession in less than two years.
“Once I get my trust fund, I’ll buy you a new perfume,” Kris said as the Uber rolled to a stop in front of their destination. “Eau de Desperation doesn’t suit you.”
She thanked the driver, exited the car, and sauntered toward the spa without a backward glance.
