Page 7 of Scandal
“Is there anything I can get you, miss?”
I look up, bleary-eyed, from my laptop to find a flight attendant standing at my side. She’s perky, blonde, stunningly beautiful, and her British accent makes her sound sophisticated and fancy.
I instantly hate her.
She looks down at me with a warm smile, and I try to remind myself it’s not her fault the sleeping pill my brother swore would knock me right out didn’t work—like at all.And now I’m stuck on a billion-hour flight, wide awake, and cranky as hell.
“I don’t suppose you have any tea, do you?” Her lips quirk, and then I remember where I’m headed. “Right. Sorry. Of course you do.”
“First time traveling to the UK?”
“First time in Scotland, but I went to London once on a family vacation when I was a kid, but I was young, and all I really remember is Big Ben and those grouchy soldiers at the palace.”
She laughs. “They’re called the King’s Guard. They do garner quite a bit of attention, don’t they? But you’ll never see them react. Stone-faced, they are.”
“Intense, for sure. My brother is an amazing actor, and I don’t think he could even keep a straight face in those circumstances.”
She tilted her head. “Is he in any films? Is he famous?”
I shake my head. “Not yet, but he will be.”
A smile tugs at her lips. “He’s that talented, then?”
“Yeah,” I answer, wishing I could have seen Myles before I left. He’s the youngest of my three brothers, and right now, probably the busiest. Between his schedule and mine, we rarely see each other outside of family dinners, so it’s no surprise we couldn’t meet up in the short time I had before I left.
But he wished me well, sending a good luck text in our sibling group chat—currently called No Creed Left Behind, thanks to Hendrix—teasing me not to get into any trouble while I was there.
I mentally snort out a laugh. I am the last person anyone ever worries about getting into trouble. In the Creed family, I am and always was…the good kid.
I never had a bedtime or curfew growing up, and I never skipped class. I had perfect grades and would have had perfect attendance if Myles hadn’t given me the flu in fifth grade.
While others thrive in chaos, I prefer order.
I like having a schedule and a plan. I like knowing what’s going to happen and where I’m supposed to be when.
So going to Scotland on a whim?
Not my idea of fun.
Not at all.
If it had been up to me, I would have spent weeks researching every region and city, then created a detailed itinerary with perfectly selected hotels and restaurants.
But, instead, I’m just…winging it.
Ugh, I hate that word.
My hands feel clammy just thinking about all the things that could go wrong, like the fact that I don’t know exactly where I’m staying.
Why? Oh, because Asher still doesn’t know that I’m coming.
So I might be flying halfway across the world, driving through the scenic countryside, only to be turned away at the gate. My dad made reservations for me at a nice hotel in a village near Asher’s family estate, “just in case.”
I let out a sigh and then quickly realize the perky flight attendant is still standing there.
Did she ask me something? How long has she been standing there? Maybe that sleeping pill is working better than I thought.
“Just the tea, then?”
