Page 22 of Breaking the Alpha (Serpent’s Tongue Ink #2)

A ngelina looked over River’s shoulder at the line forming for the airport security check.

“Text me when you land, okay?” She straightened his bloodstone necklace.

“Eat something before you board because you didn’t have much for breakfast. And make sure to drink lots of water on the flight so you don’t dehydrate. ”

“I will.” Smiling down at her, he tucked a stray stand of hair behind her ear. “I think I like this whole getting-driven-to-the-airport thing. It makes you all cute and bossy.”

Yesterday afternoon’s discussion over her driving him to the Omaha airport two hours from Epson was a long one bordering on a full-fledged fight, and damn near culminated in him attending his birthday party alone.

While River insisted that she didn’t have to ‘risk an accident on those damn roads’ taking him, she’d dug her heels in, reassuring him that she’d be fine driving home alone and refusing to entertain his position that she’d be wasting her day off.

Crossing his arms and telling her that he’d flown hundreds of times without anyone seeing him off only solidified her position, and she mimicked his pose in silence until he finally relented with a resigned sigh.

“I’m not being bossy,” she corrected as she glanced at the stern faces of the security, putting her on edge. “I’m upholding a commanding presence.”

“And it’s cute,” he said, hiking his backpack higher onto his shoulder. “Maybe next time you’ll come with me?”

“Flying makes me nervous,” she admitted, hugging him tight.

She thought she felt his lips on the top of her head before he released her. “I couldn’t tell,” he said with a smirk. “I better get in line.”

Nodding, she took a step back to avoid clinging to him like a spider monkey. “Remember to text me when you land.”

“Remember to text me when you get home,” he replied with a wave before he put his ball cap on and joined the scads of people lining up to be scanned and searched.

She waited until he was out of sight, then waited a little longer.

For a woman who spent more than a decade doing her best to need no one, she sure was unhappy with the knowledge that she’d be returning to a silent, empty home.

Though River’s presence wasn’t necessary, it was comforting knowing that if a raccoon managed to break into her kitchen, she wouldn’t be alone in trying to capture it and release it outside the town’s limits.

Frowning, she fired off a quick text to him.

Would you help me catch a raccoon if one broke into the house?

His response was immediate.

Is it rabid?

She smiled.

No.

Then yes.

Satisfied with his reply, she left the airport and drove home.

*

River pointed at the baggage carousel while Jodie stood impatiently near the airport exit.

Her short blue-black hair stood out amongst a sea of blond as she tapped her wrist. He shrugged as he pressed his phone to his ear to drown out the noise surrounding him.

“I’ll call you back once I’m done with this meeting with my agent and I’m settled in my hotel.

Make sure you lock the doors and I’ll text you Birch’s number in case you have any problems.”

Angelina laughed, her voice significantly more relaxed than it had been at the airport hours earlier. “I think I know how to handle a few nights alone.”

“You worry about me flying, I worry about you being home alone. Fair’s fair.”

Once they’d said their farewells, he fired off his brother’s number to her and walked to the baggage claim, hauling his suitcase out and following Jodie out the door to her waiting car.

“Snap a picture of the tarmac as we leave,” she instructed without a hello, her sky-high heels bringing her eye to eye with him. “Your followers will want to know you’re here.”

Doing as she said once they were away from the loading zone, he uploaded a photo and tagged the location while avoiding the comment sections of his recent posts.

“I’m doing the shoot Monday and Tuesday.

Wednesday is auditions. Thursday I’m finalizing the divorce at the lawyer’s office.

Why aren’t I flying out until next Sunday? ”

“Networking, River.” Jodie turned her attention to merging into the relentless freeway traffic. “You’re going to spend Friday at a few select hotspots to boost your visibility. Saturday is a day-long music event down at Venice Beach. You look good wet, so expect to be in the water.”

By the time Jodie had hauled him in and out of a new ‘it’ restaurant for dinner, grumbled over his need for a haircut, and gloated over the superior action his social media posts were garnering over Windy Leigh’s, he was dragging his feet into his hotel room, wanting nothing more than a shower and Angelina’s voice.

But this week, work needed to come first.

He ran through his new workout app, pushing himself for close to two hours, then messaged Birch to ask him to thank Jocelyn’s parents again.

Physically exhausted, he showered off and checked his photo shoot instructions. He groaned when he realized he would need to shave tonight to ensure he had the scruff they required in the morning.

It was almost eleven when he collapsed into bed and rolled onto his back before tapping Angelina’s number and smiling for the first time since he’d left Epson when she answered.

*

If anything was going to sour River’s mood more on Tuesday night, it was the text buzzing his phone to life as he trudged down the hall to his suite.

He’d spent twenty-two of the past forty-eight hours completing the shoot Jodie booked thanks to the drive to and from the site, which had added another eight hours.

The oils, powders, and makeup the stylists had used still had him ready to jump out of his skin, and the sand from the beach location that morning was still embedded between his toes.

And then there were the women.

Most of the people he worked with treated him like a commodity, which he technically was.

A few were friendly, fewer still were actually nice.

But there was always a handful of older women on those shoots who circled him like sharks circling a rowboat.

They were bolder than the younger women on site.

These were women who’d been in the business for a long time and knew how to play the game.

Except he didn’t want to play.

His skin crawled every time one of them touched him.

It didn’t matter if it was the innocuous brushing of a hand against his hip or a more forward trailing of a finger along his collarbone.

Every graze churned his stomach and darkened his mood because he knew damn well what he was to them, and also what he never would be.

Jodie’s texts came like clockwork for two days: reminders for him to post teasers of where he was, comments on the stills the photographers forwarded, and suggestions for his Friday exposure tour.

He hadn’t spoken to Angelina since Sunday.

Their only communication consisted of a few rushed texts he managed to send when he had a rare moment to read her cheerful messages about her newest acquisitions.

And the next few days weren’t going to be much better.

His meetings and appointments were booked from one end of the greater area to the other.

The second to last thing he wanted to see after a long day was Windy Leigh’s name on his phone screen.

The very last thing he wanted to see was her message.

Saw you’re back home. Why don’t you meet me at The Suds tomorrow after eight. Reconciliation costs nothing but the payoff would be huge. Miss you, babe.

Scrubbing the day’s work from his skin and hair, he worked over possible response after response in his head, bouncing between anger and annoyance until he made his choice.

Turning the shower off, he wrapped a towel around his hips, picked up his phone, erased Windy Leigh’s message, and tapped on Angelina’s number.

She answered after two rings and her voice settled him immediately, the rustling of her blankets letting him know she was already in bed.

“Hey, Angel,” he greeted her as he towel-dried his hair. “Did I wake you up?”

“Of course not.” He heard her stifle a yawn. “I was just in deep meditation. With my eyes closed. In bed. For the last hour.”

He glanced at the time and winced. “Aw, hell. I didn’t realize it was so late. Why don’t I call you tomorrow?”

“Why don’t you talk to me tonight?” she countered, sounding more alert. “How did the photo shoot go?”

Hiking a pair of boxers over his hips, he flopped onto the bed.

“It was long, but the coordinator is already talking with Jodie about another campaign in a few months, so he must be happy with the pre-touchup results.” Scratching at his chest absently, he reached over and turned off the bedside lamp.

“Hopefully the next one will be something nice and body-covering, like sweaters or suits, because whatever brand of makeup they used on my scars is irritating as shit and took two hours to do.”

She was quiet for a moment, her voice holding a faint growl of possessiveness when she finally spoke. “This is going to sound incredibly selfish, but I’m glad they covered them. They have no right to those markings. I do.”

“Damn.” He laughed, shocked by the bite his gentle little bohemian suddenly had. “Did you just get territorial on me?”

“Yes.”

“I like Territorial Angelina as much as I like Bossy Airport Angelina,” he said with a grin as he added up the hours until he would land in Omaha Sunday.

*

River rolled out of bed with a groan, checking the time as he opened his hotel room door. “Come on in,” he grumbled, backing up as Jodie marched past him with her phone pressed to her ear and two bags in her hand. “And good morning to you, too.”