Unmistakable by Abrams Lauren

Author:Abrams, Lauren [Abrams, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781494364083
Amazon: B00HDPIYG2
Barnesnoble: B00HDPIYG2
Goodreads: 19377084
Publisher: Lauren Abrams
Published: 2013-01-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Major achievement of the day number two—I get to the airport in time to make my flight. As a reward, I decide to treat myself to a broad sampling of reading material. I pick up every single one of the weekly tabloids, which all feature the same starlet. However, each has a different headline—engaged, pregnant, in rehab, teaching orphans in Africa. I shove the one about African orphans back on the shelf. I don’t need to read about all of her good deeds, because that would just make me feel like a terrible person, and I already feel that way most of the time. Then, I spend a long time debating whether to pick up the National Book Award winner or one with the half-naked man on the cover.

Screw it. It’s not like I’m going to see anyone I know. That’s the beauty of airplanes. You can read what you want, drink what you want, and say what you want. No one will ever be the wiser. And the half-naked man on the cover is far more tempting than the maudlin description of one man’s journey from a wheelchair to long-distance running.

I settle into a leather armchair at the gate, and twenty minutes later, I’m already pretty pissed at Armando, the stable hand. If he doesn’t have the nerve to tell Felicia, the duke’s daughter, that he loves her, then how the hell does he think he’s going to win over her family? I’m about thirty pages in, and the most exciting thing that’s happened is a “clandestine” touch of her bare arm. Lame. I’m thumbing through to see if it picks up any speed when someone coughs conspicuously.

Holden, a cup of coffee in hand, smiles down at me.

“Miss Walton,” he says, adding a boyish wink.

He hasn’t called me that since our first meeting that day in the lecture hall, and I’m wondering what kind of massive mistake I’ve made on one observation form or another when I realize, with no small degree of horrified embarrassment, that his eyes are resting on the book in my lap. I shove Unforgettable Love into my bag. There’s got to be some chance that he hasn’t seen the cover.

His quick, easy grin tells me that I wasn’t fast enough.

I really need to get myself a Kindle.

“I see that you’re planning on doing a lot of studying this trip.”

I scowl. “We all have our guilty little pleasures.”

His eyes gleam with laughter, and I melt. Staying pissed would be a lot easier if he wasn’t so goddamn attractive.

“Journey,” he whispers conspiratorially. “I can’t get enough of Journey.”

That is not even close to a guilty pleasure. Everyone loves Journey. I shake my head in disgust.

“Weak. That doesn’t count.”

“Fine. That was a half-truth, as you call it. It’s Star Trek, actually. All of it. The TV shows, the movies, the terrible serialized novels. I even have the action figures.”

I would never have guessed. “Slightly better,” I concede.

He’s forgiven—as if that were ever really in question. I shift my belongings and pat the seat next to me.

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