Page 1 of My Ex-Best Men (Ex Marks the Spot #4)

***Claire***

S printing across the JFK Airport in a four-year-old bra that I’d stitched back together a dozen times because I wasn’t willing to lose my comfort bra wasn’t a great idea.

Between the boob sweat and bounce from my C-cup breasts the bra was having a lot asked of it.

A lot, a lot. As much as it was shocking to feel my tits spring free in the middle of my mad dash, it shouldn’t have been surprising.

The bra was hanging on by a literal thread.

I couldn’t slow down. My connecting flight to Miami was leaving in minutes.

So, sweat pouring, boobs bouncing, I dodged a slow-moving family and played a small game of Red Rover with a line of people doing their best to get their favorite chicken sandwich.

I wasn’t a gym girlie. I wasn’t even a long walks kind of girlie.

I was more of a sit in my favorite chair and read a dozen manuscripts before moving again girlie.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had to run.

Junior High, maybe? It wasn’t for me. I couldn’t catch my breath and I was sweating in a way that made me want to apologize to the people around me.

When I got to my gate and saw that I’d made it I doubled over and struggled to take a deep breath.

Wiping my forehead on the back of my arm I straightened and hurried to the desk.

My glasses were fogged over as I slapped my ticket down on the counter. “Sorry. I… Whew. I need to work out more. This is embarrassing.”

The woman on the other side of the counter took my ticket with a slight curl of her nose. She tapped at her computer for a moment and frowned. “Your seat’s been changed.”

I let out a polite laugh, hoping she was joking. I didn’t think it was all that great of a joke but I knew when to stroke someone’s ego. As far as I was concerned, she was the next great comedian. “You got me.”

“Ma’am?” She looked at me like she thought I was insane. “Your ticket was upgraded to first class.”

“Are you still joking?”

She frowned and motioned for me to measure my carry-on to make sure it fit.

“I’m not joking, ma’am. Please place your luggage here and- Great.

It fits perfectly. You’re the last passenger to arrive so just go up the ramp and a stewardess will be waiting to show you to your seat. Enjoy your flight, Ms. Morgan.”

After a travel day from hell I felt like the flight gods were finally smiling down on me. Or maybe it was Sophia and Jake. Upgrading my flight to first class was something they’d do to spoil me. I went to move past her and she suddenly shot her arm out to stop me.

“Um… I think there’s something wrong with your…” She gestured at her own chest and winced.

I looked down and saw that my bra was open in a way that made it look like I had four boobs.

I groaned and did the only thing I could think of to make it better.

I slipped my arms inside my shirt and took the poor, broken bra the rest of the way off.

I shoved it into my carry-on, unwilling to leave it behind.

I hunched forward in an attempt to hide that I wasn’t wearing a bra and smiled awkwardly at the woman. “Thanks. I’m not normally like this.”

She held up her hands. “You’re going to miss the flight if you don’t go.”

I lifted my purse higher on my shoulder and juggled my laptop case and carry-on so I could wave at her.

Groaning as I realized how weird I was being, I hurried up the small ramp and tried to put the morning’s events behind me.

I was still a sweaty mess, but at least I was a sweaty mess with a first-class seat.

The stewardess waiting at the top of the ramp for me smiled brightly and motioned me onto the plane. She was great at her job because she didn’t react to the state I was in at all. “Here you are, ma’am. As soon as we’re in the air we can get you something to drink.”

My face burned as I felt everyone in the first-class cabin look up at me.

If the stewardess was already offering me something to drink, I had to imagine I looked worse than I thought.

I followed her a few feet down the aisle and thanked her when she opened the overhead compartment for me.

I shoved my carry-on in first and then struggled to get my laptop bag to fit.

Wrestling with it, I shot an apologetic look over my shoulder at the stewardess and then glanced down to apologize to the person sitting next to me who was probably getting an eye full of tits with the way I was struggling.

When my gaze collided with the familiar pale green eyes staring back at me, it took my brain a solid ten seconds to catch up.

The flight gods were definitely not smiling down on me.

They were smirking and probably letting out evil laughs.

Those pale green eyes slowly moved lower until they were focused on my chest. “Long time no see, Claire.”

Zane Wilson. The ex who broke my heart. The lead singer in the massively successful band, Velvet Moon.

The man who single-handedly ruined rock music for me.

He was right there, lounging three inches from my personal space, that gravel-filled voice washing over me like a pot of boiling water.

Painful. Scalding. And way too familiar.

I could still hear that voice whispering dirty things in my ear like it was yesterday.

“Ma’am? If you’ll have a seat I’ll put your bag away for you.” The stewardess was at my side, speaking to me, but she could’ve been an eight-feet tall dinosaur for all the attention I paid her.

“C’mere, babe. Let the nice lady put your bag away.” Zane reached out and grabbed my waist, like he had any right to touch me, and pulled me past his knees to the window seat. He had to pry the computer bag from my fist to give it to the stewardess. “Thanks, ma’am.”

“Oh, you’re so welcome, Mr. Wilson.”

I cut my eyes at the woman, disgusted by the breathy way she spoke to Zane.

She should’ve saved her lust for a man who deserved it.

Finally able to control my own motor functions again, I yanked my seatbelt on and rummaged through my purse for my earbuds.

Of course, in the chaos of traveling, I’d misplaced them.

I never misplaced things. I was usually organized and put together.

It was incredibly unfair that on the day that I ran into Zane for the first time in over half a decade I was a complete and total mess.

“So, Claire…” Zane turned his body toward mine. “Miss me?”

I slowly lifted my eyes to his and let all my hatred and anger show on my face. “About as much as I’d miss a fucking hammer to the head.”

He didn’t flinch at my coldness. Instead, he leaned in closer, his voice warm and low. “I know I deserved every word of that, and every dagger you have to throw. But if you’re telling me you never missed what we had…?”

He smiled, gentle and sure. “Then you’re the best liar I have ever known.”

My heart slammed into my ribs. And every fiber of my being hated that he was right.

“Fuck off Zane.”