Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Still, it almost felt like a part of me was missing, like he’d taken it with him when he closed that door. Part of me wanted to pursue the chemistry we had at the bar. Another part of me, the one that was raised only to have sex with someone special, fretted that I’d done something wrong, but the stress I felt now was nothing like my normal level, so I had to admit it did some good. I felt like things would level out.
“Cranberry, no ice.”
The man beside me groaned as he sat forward to accept the drink. The flight attendant eyed me, but before she could ask what I’d like to drink, I said, “Water, please.”
After taking a sip from my water, I turned on my phone. I half expected to see missed calls from my mom, but instead, the lock screen showed a little boy with a somewhat familiar face, albeit one that was quickly filling me with a sense of dread. I recognized those sincere eyes. Clutching the phone, my breath hitched, and I swallowed. The phone had a lock code. The one thing I never did was put a password on my phone. If anyone found it, it would make it easier to return it if they wanted to.
Ryan wouldn’t have done this on purpose, would he? There wasn’t some grand phone ransom scam going around the country, right? Maybe it wasn’t a ransom at all, and they just took phones to steal whatever personal information was stored in there. Which was a lot. Well, if he thought he would get rich emptying my bank account, he would be very disappointed.
My knee bounced as I tried to crane my neck out to see into the aisle seat, wishing, praying that Ryan was on this godforsaken flight. The chances of that were slim, but an optimist wasn’t an optimist because they were realistic.
The man grumbled something, but I ignored him, scanning the heads I could see for any hope for a coincidence and a prayer that he had my phone.
“Ma’am, can I help you?” a flight attendant asked.
“Not unless you can find the guy who took my phone,” I murmured, my face turning cold when I realized how crazy that sounded.
She frowned. “Someone took your phone?”
“Well, yes but ...” I exhaled a deep breath and ground my teeth. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure he isn’t on this plane.”
That earned me a somewhat confused look from the flight attendant, who reminded me there was a paper sack in my seat pocket if I needed it. When she walked away, I continued my search, scanning the few heads that stuck out over the seats or created silhouettes between the headrests.
I wasn’t going to find him like this; what were the odds that he was even on this flight, and I certainly wasn’t going to run up and down the aisle looking for him. I wish I’d asked where he was flying. It was just a simple mix-up. He left his own phone, which meant he wasn’t a con artist. What kind of con artist left their phone behind? It wasn’t a burner phone, but it did have a lock screen, so I couldn’t access it, so maybe he was a con artist.
No, no. I was overthinking this. We had real chemistry. He could have left in the middle of the night; he could have run out without waking me, and he was the one who purchased the hotel room. This had to be a simple mistake. I just had to use my brain. He owned a business, didn’t he? I remembered him saying something about a business trip. I had his phone, so he would surely want it back, right?
I was helpless until we landed, which seemed to take a lifetime. I tried to read and opened my presentation after pulling down my laptop—anything—but I couldn’t focus, knowing I had my quick notes on my phone, and I couldn’t remember if the picture of the map I’d taken backed up to the cloud yet.
Thank God for the cloud. At least I had everything else.
It took more effort than I imagined not to think of Ryan as a con artist after coming up with elaborate ways and reasons he could have done it, but I also had every opportunity to negate the possibility when I thought of his kindness, sincerity, and respectful nature. Con artists could fake generosity, but could they fake chemistry when I wasn’t looking for it in the first place?
I’d never been conned before, so I didn’t have an answer for that one.
When the plane finally landed, everything was a blur. I all but climbed over the man in the aisle seat, who started chewing me out and didn’t seem to stop as his voice fell away in the distance. I shuffled off the plane with the others, my mind on getting to baggage claim for one last hope of seeing Ryan.