“I bet I do too,” she says, then spins around. “Daddy, can I try soccer?”
Yup. Abracadabra.
“Sure, cupcake,” I tell her, then lift her in my arms, and give her a big hug.
Then, I say goodbye to Bridget, toss my carry-on in the trunk, and slide into the car, onto the cool leather seats.
Asher joins me, the door clicking closed behind us, the partition rolled up. He deals me a sly smile, gesturing to my polo. “Did you bring me one just like that? Please say yes.”
And it’s on. My strategy locked down. “Of course. We can practice our matching looks before Hannah walks down the aisle. Every day, we’ll look like twins.”
There. Twinning is so not sexy.
“Good. Practice is so important,” he says, lingering a little on that word as the car peels away, and it’s just us now.
Maybe if I’m lucky, there will be a chatty, little old lady next to us on the flight. Preferably one who knits and wants to tell me how to make an afghan the whole plane ride down to Florida.
I’d listen to every detail as it’ll take my mind off my traveling companion who speaks French, and looks good when he sweats, and says words like practice in a smoky voice.
When I was a kid, I used to count down the days on the calendar before the trips we took to Cedar Point, the amusement park a couple hours from where Hannah and I grew up in Columbus, Ohio.
I still love checking items off a list, and marking the X, since it’s rewarding. Once we’re past security, we’ve chopped an hour and a half off this trip already so that’s some progress.
Along the way through the terminal, Asher fiddles with his phone more than I’d expect a grown-up to do.
That’s fine. It keeps us from talking.
When we reach the boarding area, there’s no line at our gate. “Perfect. I’m going to see about an upgrade for us,” he says.
I jerk my gaze to him. Is he speaking French again? “What for?”
“Well, you don’t want to fly coach, do you?” He says that like it’s preposterous.
I’ve never flown anything except coach. But it’s not like I want to say, hey I’m a first-class virgin. “You don’t have to spring for first class. I’m fine,” I say, assuring him, since I’m not flashy. I don’t need extras. I also have literally no clue what I’m supposed to say to a guy who wants to upgrade me, too.
Asher claps me on the shoulder, curling a hand over my muscle. “Banks, I might be an asshole sometimes. But I’m not a total ass.”
Tension blankets my body from the feel of his hand on me, and it’s joined by heat sizzling under my skin. Great. Just that touch and I’m lit up. “I’ll bite. How are you not a total ass?” I ask, trying to focus on what he’s saying, not how I’m feeling.
With a playful glint in his eyes, he says, “I’m not going to upgrade just myself. And I’m not going to fly coach if I don’t have to,” he says, then grins mischievously. “And I don’t have to. Ergo, we don’t have to either.”
Wait! This is brilliant. This is an out. Three hours to escape from this rampant lust if I can wiggle away from his offer. “You should definitely do it, Asher. Live large. Enjoy yourself. But listen, I’m completely fine in coach. I sleep on planes anyway, so it’s not a problem for me to just crash the whole time.”
That’s a lie. I hate sleeping on planes. Your head falls to the side, your mouth lolls open, and you look stupid. But he won’t want to upgrade someone who’s just going to snooze the whole time.
“That sounds miserable. You’ll sleep better in first class.”
I try harder, upping my negotiation game. “Save the miles for yourself, and you can upgrade again the next time you go to Fiji or São Paulo or wherever.”
Asher shrugs. “This is why I have credit card miles in the first place.”
I want to find a reason to say no. Because him spending points on me—or money in the form of points—makes me uncomfortable. It’s a little too close to everything I’m trying to avoid with him. Nonetheless he’s already striding toward the gate agent, flashing the kind of smile that can probably charm the underwear off anyone, man or woman, in seconds.
His eyes stray to her name tag. “Hi, Karina I see your upgrade list has just enough room for two more.”
I roll my eyes so hard I nearly pull a muscle.
“Why, yes it does! Let me get you all situated.”
“That would be fantastic.”
A few minutes later, he wheels around, waggling his airline app like it’s the spoils of war. “And we’re in 3A and 3B.”
I wince, but do my best to show my gratitude. “Thanks. If I can repay the favor sometime, just ask.”