Page 18 of Naughty or Nice?
The guy, who barely looks old enough to be out of college, gives a hapless shrug. “Sorry, lady. Can’t help you much. As far as I’ve heard, pretty much all flights are either canceled or on hold. Some bad weather’s about to come through.”
I can’t keep from growling in frustration as I spin away from him and stalk off.
It would be my luck that I’d book a flight out of Morrow after discovering my fiancé wanted nothing to do with me days before Christmas…
…and then that exact flight would be canceled.
Did I mention this is after I fucked said ex-fiancé’s father the night before?
I cover my face with my hands and release a breath that shakes my lungs. My head’s pounding and flashes of last night still play in my mind’s eye. A constant reminder of what I was doing just twelve hours before.
I had sex with Nate’s dad.
The man who was supposed to become my father-in-law!
He fucked me against the bar counter and I came. Twice.
The moment was spontaneous and raw. It was bursting with passion, even through the haze of alcohol.
I hadn’t had sex like that… in a very, very long time. If not maybe ever.
Definitely not with Nate.
Who would’ve guessed it’d be his father who really made me feel things? His dad who made my pussy spasm and tingle like never before?
I couldn’t even look him in the eye once it was all said and done. My entire face heated up, and I fled the scene as fast as I could.
He’d texted me earlier, on the way to the airport, and I’d told him I was leaving. Back when I was certain nothing else could possibly go wrong.
Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about him.
I chastise myself all the way out the automatic sliding doors of the airport. It’s not until I’m standing outside with my luggage that it sinks in what I have to do.
It looks like I’m going to have to spend Christmas in Morrow after all.
“Damn it,” I sigh. “Could this holiday get any worse?”
The Uber pulls up to the Airbnb, and I discover the recent snowfall isn’t the only thing waiting for me—Nicholas stands by the door with his arms folded as if the house isn’t in his name and he can’t walk in at any time.
I’m getting out of the Uber as he approaches to help me with my luggage.
“It’s okay. No, seriously. I’ve got—do you have to help every time?” I interrupt myself.
He’s skipped over my protests and grabbed hold of both large suitcases, one in each hand. I hurry ahead of him to unlock the front door.
He heaves my things up the front steps and past the threshold, dusting his hands off once he’s done.
“I have to help because what kind of man stands around and watches a woman struggle with her things?”
My gaze diverts from his, focusing on my pieces of luggage. “Why are you here, Nicholas? It’s Christmas Eve.”
“I wanted to check on you.”
“I had my flight today.”
“Which is why I came by this morning.”
“I left early.”