"Do you always talk to yourself?"
I turned my head and looked up at Mr. Hottie.
"I'm sorry?" I asked, confused. My brain was still processing how my career was going into the toilet at an alarming pace.
"I just wondered if you always talk to yourself this much."
Reality crashing back in on me, I blushed hotly, then looked away, seeing the flight attendant work his way down the aisle.
"Oh, um. Only when stressed." I laughed drily. "That means yes. I talk to myself all the time."
A little V formed in his brow, then glanced at my computer. "Stressful job?"
The flight attendant came to our aisle. "Since we're stuck here, drinks are on us, folks. Beer, wine, liquor?"
"Liquor," Mr. Hottie and I said it at the same time. We looked at each other and smiled.
"Name your poison then," the flight attendant replied, pencil and paper ready, looking to me.
"Vodka tonic," I said. "Make it a double."
"Same," Mr. Hottie replied.
When the flight attendant moved down the line, Mr. Hottie turned back to me. "You seem to need that drink."
"Or ten," I muttered.
"That bad?" he asked.
"Drowning my problems in alcohol is the only thing I can do at this point. Since I've been on this plane I've had a phone call from my ex, an IM from a coworker and a text from my boss. On top of that, I won't make my appointment in Montana on time." I waved my hand toward the plane's window and the water streaking down it. "I can't go back to New York and, after months of hard work, they're giving my case to an ass-" I bit my lip. "An associate because I'm stuck here."
Mr. Hottie's dark gaze was focused on me. Like a laser. It was as if he couldn't hear the storm brewing outside or the screaming baby two rows back or the conversation of the couple in front of us. He was listening solely to me, and the attention made me hot all over. I had to fist my hand at my side to keep myself from finding out just how soft his hair would feel sliding through my fingers.
"Being stuck isn't so bad," he told me.
I arched a brow, my gaze flying to his lips as he spoke. Lingering because I couldn't seem to remember that it was impolite to stare. "Oh?"
"Mmm," he murmured. "Being stuck with a beautiful woman? Every man's dream. Aren't I lucky?"
I licked my lips and forced myself to face forward, like a reasonable, logical woman. How many times was this man going to make me blush?
"I'm Jack, by the way."
I licked my lips again, the slight dampness left by my tongue teasing me with possibilities as I answered. Maybe this was how it worked, picking up a man. Maybe Elaine was right. Maybe I could do this. "Catherine."
Jack shifted his legs so they stretched out into the aisle a bit. "What is it you do that has you so stressed?"
I considered lying for a split second, but my instincts rebelled at the thought. If he couldn't handle a woman with a brain, I wasn't interested anyway. "I'm an attorney."
"My cousin's a lawyer, too. I usually crack jokes about lawyers, but I don't think they pertain to you."
I laughed and nodded my head. "Yeah, I've pretty much heard them all." I tugged at one of my wayward curls. "And I'm blond, too, so I'm pretty much doomed in the bad joke department."
"So what's the big issue that has you so wound up?"
He placed his hands on top of the book in his lap, interlaced his fingers, clearly settling in to the wait. I just looked at him for a minute, trying to figure out why he cared.
Perhaps he sensed my thoughts, because he said, "Look, talking to you is much more enjoyable than my book. Besides, we've got nothing else to do. You might as well tell me." When I still paused, he said, "What happens on the plane, stays on the plane."
"I thought that was only for Vegas," I countered, then grinned. "Fine." I turned so my back was against the bulkhead of the plane and I faced him.
"My biggest issue is that I'm up for partner and an ambitious co-worker took over my biggest case. I've been gone-" I glanced at my watch and did the math on the time change. "-six hours and he's poaching my clients."
"Partner. That's impressive, especially for someone so young."
I frowned and looked at him carefully. "Thanks. I'm not that young and I don't think you're old enough to claim old age just yet."
"I don't dare guess a woman's age. My mother taught me better manners than that, but I'm thirty-two."
"Then I'll just say you've got a few years on me." Five to be exact, but he didn't need to know that.
"Like I said, impressive."
I looked down at my short nails. "Making partner has been a goal for ten years. I've worked my tail off and the thought of the jerk in my office stealing the partnership out from under my nose makes me want to strangle things."
"You always wanted to be a lawyer?"
"Yes."
"Why's that? Someone in your family put away for a crime they didn't commit?" The corner of his mouth tipped up and his dimple appeared. I stared. I couldn't help it. I wanted to kiss him there, find out what his skin tasted like.
Holy shit. Elaine was right. I needed to have sex. The long dry spell since my divorce was making me lose my mind. "Um … no. My father's a lawyer. My mother's a lawyer."
"Following in their footsteps then."
I thought of my parents. Not warm and fuzzy, not loving in general. But, they'd put me through college and law school so I shouldn't complain. "I guess. I never really thought about it. It was always just what I was going to do." I'd said enough about me. Time to turn the tables. "What about you? What do you do?"
"I'm a rancher."
"What does that mean exactly?"
"Ever been to Montana before?"
"When I was young. My uncle lived there."
He gave a slight nod. "I run a horse ranch."
"I pegged you for a cowboy."
"I pegged you for a city girl."
I glanced at my laptop and my phone. Saw my crisp white blouse and slim jeans. "Yeah, you can take the girl out of the office, but you can't take the office out of the girl. Right?"
He looked at me for a minute. "I don't know about that. Maybe you just need to try."
I bristled at his words, then sighed. "Believe me, it's not that easy. I've been trying my whole life." I'd done everything the books said to do to relax. Beach vacations. Yoga. White noise machines and a monthly massage appointment. All they got me was stacks of unanswered emails, a sore shoulder from too much downward dog, nightmares about buzzing insect attacks and complete mortification as a stranger rubbed lotion into my less than perfect body while pretending not to notice how utterly far from perfect it truly was.
The flight attendant brought our drinks on a tray, handed me mine, then Jack his.
I took a swig of the frosty drink and felt the alcohol sit on my tongue, then slide coolly down my throat.
"Headed to Montana to visit your uncle?" he asked, adept enough to know he needed to change topics.
"My uncle died a few months ago."
"I'm sorry to hear that," he murmured.
I offered a small shrug. "I was twelve the last time I saw him. My parents had some kind of falling out and we never went back."
"Falling out?"
I took another sip of my drink. "They never told me. I asked, believe me, but they wouldn't say. Surprisingly, he left his house to me and I'm going up there to clean it out and sell."
"It's in Bozeman then?" If this plane ever took off, we'd land there.
"No, Bridgewater. A small town about two hours away." Was it my imagination, or did his eyes narrow at the mention of the town? I was about to ask, but the buzzing of the airplane's intercom system drew my attention.
"Okay, folks." The captain's voice boomed through the overhead speaker, preventing Jack from saying more. "While you can see it's still raining, the storm's headed east and the runway's open. We're fifth in line for takeoff."
The flight attendant came around then to collect the cups. Not wanting to waste the drink, I downed the rest in two gulps before handing it over. I had no choice but to put my laptop away since the tray table had to go up. We started to move then, slowly up the line as one plane took off after another. Quicker than I expected, we were in the air and the effects of the alcohol were kicking in. Now I was buzzing on both his scent and the vodka, and all I could think about was finding out more about this sexy cowboy.
"I never thought to ask, but are you heading home to your ranch in Montana or is it in Colorado?"
"Montana," Jack replied. "Born and raised. I was in Denver for business. My turn."
When I frowned in confusion, he said, "My turn to ask a question."
"Okay. Shoot." The alcohol was filling me with a warm fuzzy feeling and I knew I wouldn't normally open up like this. But what the hell? I'd never see him again anyway.