Page 10 of The Love Ambush (The Sullivans #1)

Levi

I see Gentry before she sees me in the crowded airport. Like she’s a shop vacuum and I’m sawdust, I’m drawn to her no matter how many people are between us. And when she’s not in my vicinity, she’s almost always in my thoughts.

I wonder, if she had any idea of the hold she has on me, would it change her opinion of me?

She looks exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes, her dark blond hair pulled up in a ponytail that’s not at all the tidy bun she usually manages.

Worse than that, though, she looks defeated. Her shoulders are drooping, and she can’t even manage a smile for the baby waving at her over his mother’s shoulder.

I don’t know what happened, but I’d give anything to fix it.

Except, I’m the person who screws up everything according to her. I’m the last one she’d ever want to help her.

And keeping my distance is the smartest way to make sure we don’t cause any drama at Brodie’s wedding. Even if keeping my distance is the very last thing in the world I want to do.

She doesn’t notice me when she gets in line to board the plane. All her attention is focused on her sisters. Emily looks pale and miserable, and Sophie has earbuds in and is doing her best to ignore Gentry.

Instead of going to first class, where my seat is, I follow them into coach. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I know I need to at least find out what’s going on.

I’ll keep my distance once I know Gentry’s okay.

“No way,” Sophie says, her voice rising above the murmurs of the other passengers. Emily’s curled up in a window seat glaring at Sophie as Gentry stows a bag in the overhead compartment. “I’m not sitting next to her. I don’t want her puking all over me too.”

Gentry goes pale as she shuts the door to the compartment and looks around at all the people staring at them. “It’s not the stomach bug,” she says. “She just had… um, she ate something that didn’t agree with her. There’s nothing to worry about.”

No one seems convinced. Gentry faces Sophie, clearly frustrated. “I’ll sit next to her. You can have my seat. It’s twelve B.”

“Good.” Sophie stomps to the seat without a thank you to her older sister.

“I don’t want to sit with you,” Emily says. “I hate you.”

“Emily,” Gentry says, her shoulders dropping still farther as she hangs her head.

“I’ll sit with her.” Yeah, I’m not going to be able to stay out of this.

I ease past the two passengers between us and put a hand on Gentry’s elbow.

She’s wearing a soft cotton sweater and corduroy pants that are the color of red wine.

She is so huggable, it’s almost impossible to resist. “You can have my seat, Gentry.”

She looks at me, light green eyes wide. “Levi? I… No. It’s fine. She’ll get over it.”

Emily stares at me, her eyes so much like Gentry’s and just as wide. She’s only met me a couple of times and only briefly. I’m sure the last thing she wants is to sit next to a strange man, especially one her sister can’t stand, but I don’t really give a damn.

I slide my ticket to Gentry. “I’m in first class. Hurry before you miss the complimentary champagne.”

“Complimentary…? I’m not taking your seat, Levi.”

“Sure you are. I’m not such a monster that I’d make a child sit next to a sister she hates.

” I look at Emily, who’s trying to catch Gentry’s attention.

Probably to beg her not to leave her here with me.

“And you’ll really love first class.” I give her elbow a squeeze and lean in close, breathing in the sweet, fruity scent of her shampoo as I whisper.

“Go now before she works up the courage to argue.”

Gentry looks down at her sister, clearly torn.

“I promise,” I say. “I’ll be as nice to her as she deserves.”

Gentry’s expression shifts with new determination. “Be polite to Mr. Sullivan.”

“Gentry,” Emily says in a pleading tone. “You can’t—”

“I’m pretty sure I can. You’ve been telling me all day how much you’d rather have anyone but me as your guardian. Here’s your chance to try someone else.”

Emily’s pleading expression changes to one of pure rage, though there’s a bit of concern under the anger. “Fine. He can’t be any worse than you.”

Gentry pushes past me toward the front of the plane and first class. She pauses as she passes and leans in close to me. “If she’s too sick or if she’s mean to you, I’ll switch back.”

“I’m the youngest of seven brothers, sweetheart. I can handle one fourteen-year-old girl.”

She laughs, but there’s little joy in it. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

I stow my bag in the overhead compartment, keeping only a paperback with me. I don’t need anything else and am, in fact, looking forward to a break from being always reachable by phone or computer.

I slide in next to Emily and offer my hand. “Levi Sullivan. I don’t think we’ve officially met.”

She shakes my hand and pulls hers away quickly. “Emily Lendew. You don’t have to talk to me. I’m fine.”

Now, I have two options. I could read my book and ignore Emily, which is clearly what she wants. Gentry will get an enjoyable break in first class, and maybe she’ll be feeling better when the plane lands.

But that doesn’t feel like enough.

“Oh, no. We’re definitely going to talk,” I say. “How long we talk depends on how forthcoming you are.”

She stuffs her earbuds in her ears, crosses her arms over her chest, and stares out the window as the plane starts to move. “You can talk. I don’t have to answer.”

This section of the plane is just two seats wide, so there’s no one directly next to me and no one else on the plane is paying attention to us.

I pluck the earbud from one ear and, when she turns to look at me, mouth agape in shock, I pull out the other one.

While she watches in utter disbelief, I stuff them in my pants pocket.

“You can have these back when I’m done talking to you. ”

“Those are mine,” she says, face twisting with a concern that’s bordering on tears. “You can’t do that.”

I shrug. “Looks like I just did.”

She glares at me so hard I’m pretty sure a few brain cells just keeled over and died. “I’m going to tell Gentry. She’s going to—”

Just then the plane lifts off, tilting us back, and Emily grips the armrests hard, all her attention focused on the window.

“Scared of flying?” I ask. If she needs the earbuds to listen to music that soothes her anxiety, I’ll give them back. I’m not a sadist.

“No,” she says. “I’ve never flown before. It just surprised me.”

I wait until we’re up to flying altitude and let her enjoy the view for a few minutes.

“So cool,” she whispers as we glide through the clouds toward Denver.

"Do I need to worry about you throwing up on me?” I ask.

She doesn’t even glance my way, but says, “No,” in a small, quiet voice.

“You sure? I didn’t pack an extra change of clothes for this flight, so I don’t want what I’m wearing messed up.”

She shifts to look at me, sullen. “I haven’t even eaten anything today. I’m not going to throw up on you.”

“Ah, hangovers suck, right?”

“It’s really not that bad. I’m just queasy.” Her eyes widen as she realizes what she said, and she slaps a hand over her mouth.

“It’s okay,” I say. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“I’m just like hungover from eating bad food,” she says quickly. “You know, like I still feel bad. Not anything else.”

I tap my chin as I debate whether to let her continue with this lie.

Unfortunately, that won’t serve my purpose.

“So, you ate something bad and then threw up all over your sister? You’re what?

Ten? Can’t you make it to a bathroom on your own?

” I fully know how old she is. I’m purposely trying to rile her up.

Her cheeks redden. “I’m fourteen and it, um, I got sick, like, really fast. I couldn’t make it to the bathroom.”

“Yeah, you can keep lying to me, but I know you were drunk last night.”

She gasps, her face paling. “How do you know? Are people talking about it?”

“I know, because you’re a terrible actor and the scent of booze is leaking out of your pores. You stink of a night filled with poor decisions.”

She sniffs her wrist, but I doubt she can smell herself. She’s been living in that sickly-sweet scent for too long. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t tell anyone as long as you tell me what the hell happened. I know there’s no way you got drunk on Gentry’s watch.”

Her eyes flash, and she shakes her head. “It’s her fault. I had to sneak out because she wouldn’t let me go to the party. If she’d just let me go and dropped me off there, everything would have been fine. But everyone saw her when she came to get me. It was so embarrassing.”

“Interesting. How’d you sneak out to a party if you can’t drive?”

“I got a ride from my boyfriend.” She winces. “Ex-boyfriend. He doesn’t want anything to do with me after Gentry was so mean to him.”

I’m not a parent, but I used to be a rebellious teenager. And I know exactly how much danger this little girl put herself in last night. Gentry must have been terrified.

“Wow,” I say. “Are you trying to end up pregnant by fifteen? Or in foster care?”

“I’ll just go live with Brodie,” she says. “He’s a lot nicer than Gentry.”

I stare at her. I know teenagers can be irrational, but this is ridiculous.

“A lot nicer than a woman who spends her night tracking you down at a party you never should have gone to? Who takes you home and doesn’t leave you there as punishment, but brings you on a trip most kids would kill for?

A lot nicer than a woman who buys you books and cinnamon rolls even when you act like a spoiled, selfish brat? ”

Harsh, but someone needs to tell her the truth.

I halfway expect Emily to burst into tears, but not this kid.

Oh, no. She gives condescending glare almost as good as Gentry.

“You’re an asshole. And Gentry just dragged me out of that party because she’s jealous.

She doesn’t have an amazing boyfriend who invites her to the best parties.

She has like four friends who never do anything interesting. ”