Page 1 of Settling the Score (The Karma Club #4)

It was entirely possible that Sienna was the only person in the airport glorying in the flashing ‘delayed’ signs showing on every information screen, the only person grinning from ear to ear despite the overwhelming waft of other people’s travel fumes and already-stale festive cheer.

Maybe, if she got really lucky – and she knew given her track record over the past twenty-four hours (scratch that, the past ten years) that was pretty unlikely – the delays would last so long she’d get to catch a bus back to Ashbury Falls, instead of a sky-high death trap.

Except that would mean being home late, and disappointing her sort of step-daughter, Melanie. No way would she risk that by giving into something as childish as a fear of flying.

Nonetheless, she’d definitely take the reprieve of a slight delay.

Pulling her bag over her shoulder, she made her way deeper into the cavernous airport lounge, way too full of people, Christmas carols, baubles and raised voices. And yes, even here, in delayed-flight hell, there he was.

Aiden ‘Perfect Teeth’ Carter.

She stared at his bright, shiny picture, illuminated by a thousand LED globes behind it, and had an urge to pull the chewing gum from her mouth and whack it right between his too-perfect eyes.

His ‘I’ll promise you the world then rip it away’ eyes.

His ‘you can trust me with all your secrets’ eyes.

Or better yet, his ‘I’ll always be here for you’ lying lips.

She reached towards her mouth to do just that when the image changed to one of a little girl opening a Christmas present.

Aiden’s picture might have been gone, but he was burned into her brain. Though she hadn’t seen him in the flesh for a decade, she saw him every-damned-where and on this day, of all days, she was sick of it.

Stuff a delayed flight. That was the reprieve she really needed: a break from him.

Even now, ten years and a pretty serious (albeit failed) relationship with someone else later, how did this one guy still have the ability to put her in a bad mood?

She forced herself to focus on the falling snow outside, so fast and furious it reminded her of the snow globe she’d got as a kid.

She’d loved to shake it as hard as she could and watch the whirling white fuzz surround the little church in the middle.

For some reason, it had made her feel cosy. It had made her feel safe.

But even that memory was tainted by Aiden.

Aiden in her room, looking at her stuff like it was some kind of museum or tribute to the greatest person on earth, asking her questions that made her feel so special and valued.

Aiden shaking the snow globe and studying it, talking about churches and weddings as if that was their future.

Aiden who’d lied like most men breathed.

Her gaze drifted to the airline help desk. A queue snaked from one side of the concourse to the other and then back again, and the airline staff looked like they’d happily give their right arms to be anywhere but here, dealing with anything but this.

Everywhere she looked, people were pissed as heck, and not afraid to show it.

As if it was such a shock to be snowed in at Chicago O’Hare in December. What did they think? That if they harassed the staff long enough someone would be able to magic up a snow-safe plane to get them out of here?

Hell no.

The trick in life was knowing what you could change, and what you couldn’t, and Sienna had spent a long time honing her understanding of each.

She watched as a generously proportioned woman with a devilish smile and bright magenta hair handed out equally garish, hot pink leaflets to passersby.

From where she stood, Sienna couldn’t properly see what the flyer was advertising – maybe a massage parlour?

Or a nail bar? – but she was fascinated by the woman’s selection criteria.

Not everyone who walked past received a pamphlet.

She’d hand one out, then go back to smiling, looking around the concourse, pretending fascination with a sign, before randomly selecting someone else and pressing a leaflet into their hands.

Such was Sienna’s desperate need for distraction – Aiden had cycled back onto the screen, with his perma-tan looking all glowy and golden – that she actually started to make a game of it, trying to guess which of the passersby would be selected for the flyers and which wouldn’t make the cut.

When she started to lose interest and walk off in search of somewhere to sit for a while, a little girl, around eleven, came out of nowhere and ran right into Sienna’s legs.

Sienna instinctively reached down and steadied her, smiling.

‘You okay, hon?’

The little girl looked embarrassed, just like Melanie would have at that age. ‘Yeah, whoops. Sorry. My brother – he’s chasing me.’

She had to give credit to anyone who’d try to play tag in an airport as crammed as this.

It was more like sardines in a tin. The little girl ran off and a woman rushed by, not connected to the girl, but in just as much of a hurry as if she was also in their game.

She stood on Sienna’s foot with the spike of her heel – who wore stilettos to an airport?

– earning a sharp invective from Sienna.

‘Just Desserts?’

Having lost interest in the woman handing out the flyers, the woman had apparently discovered an interest in Sienna, or had at least deemed her worthy of one of the hot pink pieces of paper.

What box did she tick? Was it the murderous look in her eyes every time Aiden came up on screen?

Did Sienna look as close to breaking point as she felt?

The relief of having been granted a reprieve from having to fly had taken a severe dip with the realisation that she was going to be confronted by images of her superstar ex everywhere she went.

Of course. Because he was Aiden ‘King of Hockey’ Carter, beloved the world over. Ugh.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Go, grab a table, have some pie.’ The woman winked encouragingly.

‘Oh.’ Sienna looked around at the teeming mess of bodies and pre-Christmas disappointment. ‘Thanks, but I doubt there’ll be room.’ Everywhere she looked, chairs were stuffed, restaurants were flooded. Even the restrooms were like a hot new destination.

‘You never know.’ The woman shrugged. ‘You might get lucky.’

‘Yeah, maybe,’ she said, because why bother arguing with a woman who was just doing her job? ‘Thanks.’

The older woman winked and flashed a smile that could only be categorised as pure cheek, then wandered off.

Sienna shoved the brochure in her pocket and wandered aimlessly, the strap of her carry-on cutting into her shoulder because she’d chosen not to check baggage and had therefore crammed as much as she could into her bashed up old duffel.

As she walked past the sign, Aiden popped up, and in a weird trick of the angle or light, it was like their eyes actually met.

Despite all her anger with him, all her frustration, a shiver ran the length of her spine and she admitted – only for a second and only to herself – that she could never really hate him.

No matter what he’d done, no matter how much his desertion had hurt, she’d loved him so much, and with such purity, that it could never really turn to hate. Anger yes, hate no.

‘Bastard,’ she muttered under her breath as she passed the screen, doing her best not to look at any other signs in the airport – which was about as easy as not getting frostbite in Antarctica.

Her mood was going from bad to worse when she turned a corner somewhat against her will, having been caught in the tide of one large, travelling family who were moving…

somewhere? Sienna walked along with them, listening to their conversations in a different language – Italian – until a glow of pink almost blinded her and she stopped walking altogether.

Just Desserts, the sign screamed, echoing the writing on the flyer.

Sure enough, the place was full, packed to the brim with people needing sugar, alcohol and a seat, in no particular order.

Except… just as she was preparing to keep walking, a table cleared.

Hallelujah! Angels at work, surely. She ducked out of the Italian family, head down, beetling towards the table as though her whole life depended on claiming that space and making it hers…

But three other women had the same desperately determined expression on their faces and they’d all arrived at the table at basically the same time.

Sienna wanted to scream.

She wanted to cry.

A huge photo of Aiden eating a strawberry sundae was hanging behind the counter, and in the bottom corner, his signature had been scrawled. Even here ? Seriously? She glared at the picture then looked back at the women. She didn’t want a fight.

She just wanted a seat.

‘Fuckity-fuck!’ a British woman snapped, and Sienna 100 per cent echoed her thoughts. Fuckity-fuck indeed.

Each of the women held a flyer in their hands just like she did.

Sienna was about to leave hers on the table with a statement about her luck pretty much being the worst in the world when one of the women, all short and confident, with fascinating, curly red hair, shrugged one shoulder.

‘If none of you are with anyone else, we could share?’

Share? Of course they could share! Why hadn’t Sienna thought of that? Because she’d had the day from hell, on top of the year from hell, and lurching from one disappointment to the other had become standard. Somewhere along the way, she’d given up on even looking for an easy solution.

She sighed her relief and smiled a little tightly, scraping back her chair, and removing her deadweight of a bag with relief, placing it carefully at her feet.