It was the judgy Steward from earlier belting out Adele, which would have been entertaining if the plane hadn’t dropped again, throwing me against the sink. That was going to leave a mark.
“This is Gary, the steward. Are you okay?”
“Yes, I think so, but the door’s stuck.”
“Miss, I’ll try to find some tools to get you out. But I have to take my seat due to the turbulence.”
“What about me?” What in the hell was I supposed to do?
“Well, umm, just hold on. We’ll get you out as soon as possible.”
Hold on? I looked around the tiny bathroom. What could I hold on to? I put my hands on the itty-bitty faucet, but that was stupid. Another dip, and my body hit the door.
I had no fear when it came to flying, but now I was shaking, given I’d never experienced turbulence like that before. I said a little prayer when the plane plummeted yet again. It was then that I realized I had no choice but to drop to my knees and wrap my arms around the toilet.
Holy shit! We were going down. It was happening. I knew it with every fiber of my being. Suddenly, I realized I’d done nothing in my entire life by which to be remembered. NOTHING.
I would be remembered for being the dumbass girlfriend who was humiliated at the surprise party and then died hugging an airplane toilet. It would be all over the papers. Humiliating, yes, but as my mother always says, ‘All press is good press.’
And what about finding Mr. Right after the cheating, lying, lipstick-sucking Steve? No true love. No happily ever after and riding off into the damn sunset, nothing. It looked like I was dying alone in the stupid-ass airplane toilet. Well, crap. Or crapper.
I closed my eyes tightly, embracing the toilet bowl and preparing for death. I knew if I looked at the toilet and there was anything or any type of residue from the MANY passengers’ asses that had been on the seat in the past two hours, I would hurl.
I finally peeked up and saw a little grab bar on the wall. As I stood up, the plane dipped again, and when I reached for the grab bar, I fell once more, my knees hitting the floor, my head dropping into the toilet just as my hand came down heavy on the flush button. Apparently, when you flush the toilet at the same time the plane drops, weird shit happens.
I felt water fly onto my face and heard screeching when my ponytail was being sucked down the toilet. I heard myself yell as I wrangled my soaking hair from the formidable jaws of the toilet. I started coughing and gagging, certain a drop of toilet water had landed in my mouth.
The turbulence subsided, and after what seemed like an eternity later, someone got the door open, and I exited the bathroom to cheers and applause from my fellow passengers. It was like I was a rock star, minus the wet shirt and toilet water hair.
Twenty minutes later, I stood on the sidewalk outside the airport where cars and people were milling about. Warm sunshine hit my face while I observed several people close by wearing cowboy hats. It was almost like it could’ve been a play: a city gal coming to Montana surrounded by country folk. We’ve all seen it a million times, but there I was.
I looked to the right and felt my mouth drop open. Holy shit. There was a guy—late twenties, in jeans, what I assumed were work boots, and a t-shirt that showed off his muscular chest and broad shoulders. His face was gorgeous, with a strong jawline. Cell phone to his ear, his sunglasses blocked his eyes as he talked. He had thick, dark brown hair, the perfect kind that was trimmed around his ears but a little longer on top, the kind you could run your fingers through and maybe pull a little from time to time.
He was one of those guys who was too good looking. Like you knew how amazing he would be ateverything. Many visuals were zipping through my mind, like him feeling me up in a forest somewhere, rendering me incapable of pulling my gaze from him for even a few seconds.
He really should be the poster boy for Montana. I mean, someone should ring up the Tourism Division because he was all the state needed to get flocks and flocks of horny women visiting.
As he turned fully around, my stomach did a little thing when I saw he was holding a piece of paper with my name on it. My dad said he’d send someone to pick me up, but I’d assumed it would be Daisy or a friend, not a sizzling hot Uber driver.Oh bloody hell, how was I going to afford to be driven an hour from the airport? The answer was I couldn’t. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, waiting for a solution to pop into my brain, but nothing. Na-da. Zip. Screwed, I was screwed.
CHAPTER6
JAX
“You’re outside of American Airlines, right?”
“Yes, I’m here. I won’t lose her. I’ll text when we’re on our way. Just concentrate on your appointment.”
“Thank you, baby.”
I disconnected the call and shoved the phone in my pocket. It’d probably be good for Madison if she was dropped off in the middle of nowhere, figuring out some survival skills that didn’t involve a personal assistant I was certain she had.
I grabbed the piece of paper I’d scribbled MADISON on and held it up, feeling like a douche and dreading the hour-long drive with a likely self-absorbed snob. I leaned against my latest purchase: my navy blue F-250 truck, which was nice and shiny now, but that would be short lived on the ranch. I’d worked to save the money to buy my truck and everything I owned. I couldn’t imagine the lack of character a person would have when they’d been given everything their entire life.
“Excuse me; I’m Madison.”
“You’re Madison?” As she nodded, my eyes were nearly blinded by the bright yellow overalls and her blue and purple tie-dye shirt. Her hair was in a ponytail and appeared to be dirty, which would normally be weird, but this chick was a walking advertisement for weird. To top off her look, on her feet were black and green fishing boots. She was wearing an outfit only a hobo would wear.WTF? Where was the jet-setting fashionista I’d seen all over social?And, no,fashionistais not a word in my normal vocabulary. I heard it from Daisy when she was describing Madison.
Did she knock her head andnotremember she was made of cash? Or was this her trying to mock the people of Montana like a condescending mean girl? (Nobody I knew in Montana looked like this train wreck.)
