Page 33 of Tied Over

He offered me his hand to shake. “I’m Davis Warren, the other best man. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I stood up to greet him. “The pleasure’s mine.”

His eyes mapped me, and he squeezed my hand tight, not letting me go. “May I sit with you, or are you going to try and get some sleep? I know you’re recovering from being shot, which is so completely outside of any frame of reference I have, I’m not even sure what I should say.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “You can say, ‘I’m so glad you’re not dead.’”

He laughed then, low and husky. “I am very glad.”

“Okay,” I replied, pleased that he released me so I could sit back down.

He took the one across from me and signaled for the flight attendant. Once she arrived, he said, “I could really use a Scotch and water, and do use Hayden’s Macallan Lalique, the fifty-year-old one he told you not to open.”

The immaculately dressed blonde woman with the perfect makeup and chignon gave him a hint of a nod and turned to me without uttering a word.

“Just a bottle of water if you would please, ma’am,” I said softly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said with a smile that crinkled her eyes. “Would you like it chilled?”

“If it’s cold already, great. If not, no worries. It’s just water. It ain’t that big a deal.”

She nodded and walked away.

Davis leaned forward, but Bodhi and Hayden arrived then, Bodhi picking up my duffel and putting it in the overhead compartment along with his, and Hayden taking the seat next to me. I wasn’t thrilled, but it was fine.

Bodhi didn’t sit, just stood there with his what-the-fuck face I normally was on the receiving end of.

“I thought this way we could all talk,” Hayden said.

“Jed was in the hospital for the past three days,” Bodhi reminded him. “He’s gonna pass out halfway there, so you should sit over there.”

What?

Bodhi had basically made a statement that meant nothing. Like what did my falling asleep have to do with where he sat? That made no sense, but Hayden didn’t question him. I certainly would have. Instead, Hayden got up quickly and sat down beside Davis.

I could feel my whole body unclench as soon as Bodhi leaned sideways in the wide chair and his shoulder was shoved up against my good one. There was really no reason for any part of us to touch—the seats were like those in first class that I’d seen walking by to business the few times I flew by myself or was making my way to coach when transporting a witness. We didn’t need to have any physical contact, but I was not the best flier, and of course, Bodhi knew that. I realized suddenly how much I’d missed having him with me when I was paired up with Pazzi. He knew me so well, I didn’t even have to speak.

“You’re never gonna guess what Jed did,” Davis rushed out, and it was nice of him to fill the void of silence because it was starting to feel a bit awkward.

“What?” Hayden asked.

“Bridget spoke to him.”

Hayden stared at his friend. “I’m sorry?”

“She spoke to him.”

Bodhi’s fiancé turned to me. “Really?”

I squinted at him. “Don’t you get fired if you don’t talk to people on the plane and make nice and chat?”

“No,” Hayden assured me. “She’s ridiculously overqualified, is a concierge chef when she’s not doing this, knows both regular and infant CPR, and can fly the plane if the pilot becomes incapacitated. Most importantly for us, she’s also an amazing mixologist.”

“Wow.” I was genuinely impressed.

“There’s also a gun and baton on board that she knows how to use. She’s well-versed in several types of self-defense.”

I grinned at him. “So what you’re telling me is that she’s an all-around badass.”