Almost Pretend Read Online Nicole Snow

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Tags Authors: Nicole Snow Advertisement
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We’ll be landing soon, which means I’d better brace for round two of crushing pressure changes.

At least my own brain isn’t trying to claw its way out of my head like a starving animal.

With a heavy yawn, I poke my head out of my blanket nest. My hair floofs into my face as I peer out from the hood the blanket’s turned into. I’m sure I look deranged.

Good thing Jet Daddy doesn’t give a damn if I’m cute or not.

I peek at him, rubbing one sandy eye, and consider trying to talk again. But I think I’ve learned my lesson.

So I watch him tapping away for a few seconds, check my watch, and wiggle my laptop out from under my hip and prop it open on my tray table.

As soon as the in-flight Wi-Fi connects, there’s an email waiting from my grandmother.

Subject: Dinner tonight

From: Grandma Jackie

Elle Dear,

I hope you’ll see this before your flight. I wanted to make your favorite for dinner tonight, but I do hope you still love five-cheese tortellini. Please let me know before your flight lands, my darling. If you have something different in mind, we can always stop by the grocery on the way home.

Yours always,

Your loving Gran

My smile feels too big for my face.

Jacqueline Lark always talks that way, like she’s trying to remind me how much she loves me with every word. She’s practically my mother at this point, although my real mom is happily retired with my father down in the Florida Keys.

I tap out a quick reply.

Subject: Re: Dinner tonight

To: Grandma Jackie

Gran,

You know I’d never turn down your tortellini, especially if you’re making your special cream sauce. But I told you—no coming to the airport. You shouldn’t be on your feet if you’re still in your knee brace. I’ll Uber, and we can order anything else. See you soon. Love you!

Elle

Knowing Gran, she’s probably already at the airport, and I’m too late to stop her.

I’ll just have to take the keys and drive so she’s not hurting her bad knee. After her hiking accident last summer, her doctor hoped that she’d be able to walk unassisted with her new knee plate after recovery, but she refused the surgery in favor of other options.

Over six months of physical therapy and she’s still struggling—which is partly why I’m here.

Sure, life wasn’t working out that great in NYC.

But I could’ve roughed it out until things started looking up.

I just didn’t want to, not when Gran needs me more.

I glance at the time again. I should have a few more minutes before I have to put everything away, so I kill time looking for local jobs.

Might as well get a jump start on settling in. As I sink back in my chair, I prop my elbow on the armrest between me and Jet Daddy.

He’s so quiet I’d forget he’s there, if not for the heat of his thigh stretched out next to me and my aching skull quieting enough to be very aware of just how close his mile-wide shoulders are to touching mine.

But I remember him well when my elbow bumps his and knocks it off the armrest.

“Oops,” I say. “So—”

I never get the word out before he plants his elbow back down and sweeps mine off. He never stops typing—and he’s still not looking at me.

I narrow my eyes.

Look, I’m grateful to him for turning off the lights and giving me his pocket square, but a single human sentence from him would be nice.

Annoyed, I nudge my elbow back on the armrest and send his dropping back down into his lap.

Then he does it right back without missing a beat.

Oh, now it’s on.

Hiding my smile, I sweep his elbow back off again, this time more forcefully—and there he is again, his huge arm brushing mine as he pushes right back.

Again.

Again.

Again and again and again until I’m hard pressed not to grin. He never pushes hard enough to come close to hurting me. Mostly, this feels like some weird game.

Okay.

I may look like a corpse and my hair is probably sticking up everywhere, but maybe I am getting to flirt with Mr. Walking Daddy Issues a little bit.

Even if he’s still no closer to showing the slightest hint of a smile, let alone breaking that no-nonsense expression. He still wears the same broody look of intense concentration as he scrolls through the data on his screen.

It looks like financial projections and profit reports that seem negative, I think.

But our weird little game ends as the Fasten seat belt light dings on, and my amusement turns into dread.

Here we go.

I just hope I don’t cry this time when the shifting pressure crushes my head like a grape.

As the pilot announces our arrival, we put our laptops away.

Jet Daddy keeps very pointedly ignoring me, but as we both fasten our seat belts, it happens.


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