Page 21 of Dream Chaser

Of course it would, for him.

“Thank you,” I whispered, not meeting his eyes. Even now, each time I looked at him, I remembered the disappointment in them when he called me a liar. He’d probably gotten over that already, and I needed to do the same. “It’s my first time flying,” I added and cringed inwardly. Now he’d think I’d never seen a plane.

The only planes I’d seen the inside of came from pictures I pinned to the Pinterest boards I made back when I thought I’d travel the world. A dream that had evaporated into thin air after I said “I do.”

Now I was flying business class to Spain. In a way, I’d gotten what I’d always wanted. At the hefty price of a fruit diet and sleeping in my car.

“No airports in Millford, I take it?” Alejandro asked, his lips twitching.

“Only cows and tractors,” I said.

Not entirely true. There was also Marshall Elementary School. Marshall Public Library. Marshall Street.

Preston Marshall.

Alejandro rubbed his hand over his jaw, the twitch of his mouth morphing into a smile. “I’m familiar with both. Still prefer planes.”

“Me too, I think. As long as they don’t shake.”

His eyes glimmered, the green in his irises turning more vivid. I quickly looked away.

A long sigh came from him. “Nova.”

Now he used his boss tone, confident and assertive. I didn’t dislike it—just the opposite—which was both inexplicable and frustrating. “Yes?”

He ran his long fingers over the silver edge of his laptop. “I’d love to think everyone working for me is comfortable. When we’re in Barcelona, trying to get Asher more sponsorship deals, you and I will represent the agency. At some point, you’ll have to look at me.”

Scorching heat blanketed my cheeks. Of course, I wasn’t subtle, and of course, he’d call me out. Again.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” he asked.

Alejandro Guerrero was nothing but straightforward.

“Kind of,” I whispered.

He leaned his head against the back of his seat, groaning. “Por favor.”

Please. Who would’ve thought my high school Spanish would come in handy one day?

“¿Por qué?” he asked. “Sorry, why?”

I liked how smooth his voice was in Spanish—another thing I had no business noticing, let alone liking.

I studied my nude nails. I could lie, but I needed this job, and I had two weeks of trial left.

“I guess I’m still embarrassed about lying to you at the interview.”

Alejandro nodded thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “I see. But I wouldn’t have hired you if I hadn’t thought you were a good fit. Let’s just put that behind us, vale?” He held out his hand. “Alejandro Guerrero.”

I clasped it. Tingles spread over my skin when my fingers brushed his.

“Nova Lockhart.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Nova

August