The restroom was huge and luxurious. It made me think back to the beginning of my career. In those days, I had to pay to fly coach to various auditions. The restrooms had been so damn small I could barely fit in them.
But those days were long gone. I was an honest-to-god star. So how come Ronnie—and apparently the females of Iowa—preferred Tanner?
Shit, maybe it was best to just shut up and give them what they wanted. The Iowans—Iowettes?—would be getting my best Tanner impersonation. Maybe Ronnie should, too.
I walked down the aisle toward her. No, not walked… moseyed. My shoulders were relaxed and I had a mild expression on my face. I loved my brother, sure—but he could be a pretty uncomplicated guy.
Ronnie did a double take when she saw me, and then she frowned. “Are you okay? You’re not getting sick like Tanner, are you?”
I smiled and made my eyes light up at the sight of her. Tanner would’ve been impressed with her outfit. She had on skintight blue jeans, high-heeled sandals, and a clingy peach-colored shirt. It had the dual advantage of looking good with her dark hair and showing a significant amount of cleavage. Okay, so maybe I was impressed with her outfit, too.
“I’m not sick,” I said in a cheerful voice. “I thought I was, but I started feeling better the minute you left for the airport. So I drove really fast and boarded before you got here. You didn’t think I’d leave you with Aiden for a whole two days, did you? He’s the worst.”
Ronnie shook her head as she figured out the game, but she couldn’t hide the amusement in her eyes.
“So glad you could make it,” she said dryly. “Especially since I presume you’re familiar with your own signature.”
“Sure, but who wants to sign photographs instead of sitting next to a pretty woman? Scoot over.” Before, I’d sat across from her, but now I stood next to her, waiting for her to slide over to the window seat. Once she did, I sat down and slung my arm around her shoulders. “There, that’s more like it.”
Ronnie bit back a grin. “You do know that Tanner’s not a country-bumpkin, right?”
“You can call me whatever you’d like, sweetheart.”
She rolled her eyes, but I noticed she didn’t seem upset at how close we were sitting together. “I’m serious, though. You’ve got to act like him for two days. This isn’t the way to do it.”
I squeezed my arm around her. “I’m Tanner, but don’t worry. Aiden and I know each other like we know the backs of our own hands.” I held out my free hand to demonstrate. Hmm, when did I get that freckle over my thumb?
“Then try harder.”
I frowned. Okay, maybe my performance was a little overexaggerated, but it wasn’t that bad, was it? But maybe that was the whiskey talking. I tried again. “Okay, you were right, I was being silly. Must’ve been a lingering effect from my illness. But this is the real me, Tanner Scott Hunt.”
“That’s his middle name? What’s yours?”
“Scott,” I emphasized. “Tanner Scott Hunt.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Don’t do that, sweetheart. Maybe I don’t know how to express myself well around you, but I’m really glad we’re taking this trip together.” I used the most sincere Tanner voice I could muster.
Ronnie inhaled sharply and then looked out the window. But I could tell she was listening.
“I enjoyed our trip the other day so much. It felt amazing to have you sitting behind me on the motorcycle, your arms wrapped around me. And then when we had that delicious meal and whacked open that piñata—”
Ronnie snorted out a laugh and then went back to pretending she wasn’t listening.
“Maybe I’m misremembering the piñata thing, but the rest of it was great. The way we walked together, and talked about so many things… like how beautiful you are… and how great a guy Aiden is… He was the one who secured permission for you to go, you know. Because I told him how much you wanted to visit Mexico, and he agreed.”
“That was nice of him,” Ronnie admitted.
I reached over and smoothed a strand of hair away from her face. “You have the silkiest hair. So soft to touch… and it smells great, too.” I buried my nose in her hair and inhaled deeply.
Ronnie nestled against me, her body seeming to seek me out in spite of her mind. God, she smelled good. I ran my finger down the soft skin of her neck. Her eyes closed, her dark lashes resting on the bruise under her eye.
Dipping my head, I pressed my lips lightly on her forehead. With her eyes still closed, she turned toward me, lifting her face. I couldn’t stop staring at her lips. But when I lowered my mouth to meet hers, my brain kicked in. “This isn’t happening.”