In the end, I decided I could live without the leash, but found I couldn’t part with the eclectic and wonderful pages upon pages of sundry contraptions. I’d become infatuated with its weirdness.
Presently, I was still debating whether to crack open the unexpected treasure trove of esoteric eccentricity now, or wait until we were airborne, when I was unceremoniously yanked out of my indecision by a familiar voice.
“What the bloody hell are you doing here?”
I was a tad startled, but didn’t need to glance up to know which primate had addressed me with such apish manners. Ronan Fitzpatrick.
“I’m sitting on an airplane,” I responded evenly, determined to enjoy SkyMall’s eclectic offerings despite Ronan’s untimely appearance.
“You’re sitting in my seat.” My teammate’s voice dropped an octave.
“Oh,” came a feminine squeak from the vicinity behind him, drawing my attention away from the pages of SkyMall.
Ronan’s exceptionally pretty, brilliant, and odd girlfriend stood at his shoulder, cheeks rosy and tanned, and with wide eyes peering at me with surprise.
“Ms. Catrel. How pleasant.” I grinned at her.
“What are you still doing in Spain? I thought you left weeks ago?” Ronan growled.
I ignored him, addressing my question to Annie as I patted the seat next to me. “Is this your seat?”
Ronan shifted to the side, effectively hiding her from my view. “That is her seat, but you’re in mine. So I’ll thank you to get your arse up and out.”
The grin slid from my face as I pulled my ticket stub from my suit pocket and showed it to my rival. “You’re in error. This is my seat. I’ve just purchased it.”
Ronan’s Cro-Magnon brow furrowed, meant to display the severity of his disdain; he didn’t look at my ticket. “I don’t care if you’ve purchased the whole godforsaken airline. That’s my seat, and you’re in it. Get. Up.”
“Oh dear.” The stewardess appeared, holding my cocktail and casting concerned glances between my hulking teammate and me. “Is there a problem?”
“This man is harassing me,” I responded flatly.
Mother Fitzpatrick turned an alarming shade of red.
“No,” he growled, tossing his thumb in my direction as though the action would smite me where I sat in seat 1B. “This arsehole—”
“Ronan,” Annie soothed, placing her hand on his arm.
He began again after taking a breath and holding up his ticket for Dorothy the stewardess. “This person is in my seat.”
I held my ticket up as well. “That’s impossible. I just purchased this seat two hours ago.”
Dorothy’s eyes moved between our offerings and her forehead creased with worry. “Oh dear. This is a mess. May I have these tickets? I’ll ring the ticket agent.”
“Certainly.” I relinquished my slip of paper proof and exchanged it for the cocktail she held.
Ronan likewise handed over his and Annie’s tickets, sliding into seats 1C and 1D to wait as Dorothy disappeared into the galley.
“The flight is sold out, Mother Fitzpatrick. You can’t steal those seats either.” I indicated to where he waited, sipping my bourbon and 7. I was glad Dorothy had made it a double.
“I’m not the stealing kind, Cassidy. I’ve no need,” Ronan shot back, his eyes pointedly not meeting mine.
“I suppose you’re referring to Brona? Really, isn’t that bad form of you? Bringing up your ex in front of pretty Ms. Catrel.” I winked at her. She rolled her eyes heavenward.
What Ronan didn’t know—what no one but Brona O’Shea and I knew—was that I never touched Brona O’Shea except for publicity purposes.
Actually, that wasn’t quite right. Lucy Fitzpatrick knew.
I scowled, recalling how I’d told her the truth. In retrospect, I couldn’t fathom why I’d allowed her accusation of bad taste to piss me off so much. I didn’t have bad taste. I had impeccable taste. I just didn’t act on my impeccable taste because . . . no point.
Regardless, Brona and I had staged the whole scene, our relationship, hoping to enrage Ronan and push him over the edge. Unsurprisingly, it had worked. Ronan was nothing if not predictable, his emotions far too close to the surface.
His loyalty and candid affection for his loved ones would be his downfall.
I couldn’t relate. I had no loved ones.
Well, that’s not quite right. I had a loved one. I had Eilish, but I didn’t go blathering on about her.
Presently, to his credit, Ronan managed to sound bored and threatening at the same time when he responded, “Keep pushing, Cassidy, see where it gets you. You and Brona deserved each other seeing as you’re both dead inside. Really, it must be nice not to give a shit about anyone but yourself.”