Page 4 of The Sweetmate (Check-In #2)

Casey

Therapy is not going to be enough after this tour. I’m going to need a full baptism, maybe a double dunk, and possibly with a side of an exorcism. I wonder if they offer that as a package…

Going through security always brings out the ugliest version of me.

It’s what I loathe most about travel. Even more than adjusting to time zones and jet lag.

I don’t even know who I am right now. Somebody not capable of standing here with his shoes off as a guy argues about his giant bottle of cologne in his carry-on after walking past the three signs that read no liquids over so many ounces will be permitted.

I can’t do this. I’m typically the nicest guy in the room, but as soon as I get in an airport security line, I turn into an asshole.

In my defense, it’s the same routine repeatedly in every airport.

One person has a problem, and now it’s everyone’s problem because they’re going to argue and we’re all going to be delayed.

Possibly miss a flight. Right now, they’re cutting into my getting a coffee time.

Notice how I didn’t purchase my coffee before going through security.

No liquids. I’ll wait and purchase it on the other side.

“Excuse me, sir.” I chime in. “One time I purchase a snow globe before going through security – ”

“What the hell does your snow globe have to do with this.” He interrupts.

“Well jackass, if you would’ve allowed me to finish, I was going to offer advice from my experience of ignoring all the signs.

You can mail your bottle that exceeds the permitted amount of liquid to yourself.

There’s a post office over there. They’ll package it and you’ll get it in a couple of days. ”

He ignores me and glares back at the TSA agent. “Why do you have the stores if I can’t carry it through security?”

The agent sighs as this is clearly not the first, or even the fiftieth time, he’s had to explain this. “There are people coming in the other direction, sir. Just like there are stores on the other end of the airport.”

“Dumbass.” I mumble.

Jensen, my bodyguard for the time being, is on the phone with my uncle confirming the rest of my schedule and reservations. He mutes his call and narrows his eyes at me. “You’re going to get yourself blasted on social media again, sir. Let it go.”

I huff and get out of my spot in line to walk over to the guy. “Here allow me to reimburse you for your cologne. You can buy some on the other side so we can all move along.”

“Mind your fucking business! I don’t want your money. It’s the principle.”

“Can’t you deal with this after you’ve gotten out of everyone else’s way? These people are trying to do their job by following protocol.”

“And who do you think you are?” He steps into my face and puffs out his chest.

“I’m a tired passenger who wants to get through this line and not miss my flight over some asshole who can’t follow simple instructions.”

Jensen ends his call and comes to step in between us. “That’s enough.” He turns to the moron and politely tells him, “You have enough nice day, sir.”

The guy shoves both of us. “Fuck you and him! And this bullshit!” He grabs his items from the bin.

As I turn around to wait for my stuff to go through the security machine my heart drops.

There’s some dickhead with a phone pointed straight at me.

Sure enough this is going to be on social media. Shit. Maybe they won’t recognize me.

“Casey Riis?” A little voice calls out.

Welp, so much for that. I look down to see an adorable little girl. Typically, I’d lie in this situation, but I can’t to her. Call me a sucker, but I can never lie when the kids are a fan. “Yes, ma’am.”

“My daddy and I watch your videos. My favorite was your Halloween cupcakes.”

I crouch down to her level. “Not the spooky witch cupcakes?” Her head bobs up and down with enthusiasm. “Really? Because that was my favorite, too!”

A man and lady come forward holding a pen and boarding pass. “Could we possibly get your autograph?”

The little girl’s lips stretch, revealing a few missing baby teeth. “See Daddy, I told you he was nice and wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind. You just made my day. And you know what, I’ll be sure to bake those witch cupcakes again. Or should I try something new?”

“Siren cupcakes.”

“Sirens! Mermaids would be fun.”

“I like the story of the sirens more. They lured the sailors to their deaths with their pretty singing.”

Oh this kid is awesome. “What’s your name?”

“Emma.”

“How old are you, Emma?”

“I’m seven.”

“Well I plan to make siren cupcakes soon and I will dedicate them to you.”

“Thanks Chef.”

And that has to be the best fan I’ve ever met.

I tell the nice, though little twisted, girl and her parents bye.

“Do you think anyone checks the MD and PhD credentials when making reservations? Nobody asks for verification, right?” I ask Jensen as I grab my carry-on. “We should try it.”

“Try what, sir?” Jensen asks. His voice is deep and polite, but I hear how heavy it is from exhaustion.

“Booking with initials after our names.”

“Jr. might not make a difference.”

I pause my step and turn to him. “Did you just crack a joke, my man? Good one!”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Or”—my voice rises as the thought crosses my mind—“put something before our names. Like ‘Lord’ or ‘Sir.’”

“Might be a hard sell since they’d expect a proper-sounding British accent. Not that your southern twang isn’t pleasant to the ears.”

At that, I lay my Southern accent on thicker. “I don’t reckon any Lords are strolling ’round Mississippi. Or Tennessee, for that matter. However, there are MDs and PhDs. We got plenty of those.”

“I wouldn’t discredit your celebrity status, sir.”

Celebrity status? I’m flattered.

I give him a smirk and narrow my eyes. “You think I’m a celebrity?”

“They did send me to be your bodyguard until you make it to your destination.” He sighs and continues in his polite yet somehow still bored tone. “Usually, only people of importance need a bodyguard.”

Ha. People of importance. Let’s not kid ourselves.

People who also need constant supervision get a bodyguard.

He’s basically on babysitting duty. Uncle Brox is pushing hard to ensure this last-ditch effort is a success.

It wasn’t my idea to have a bodyguard. Just like it’s not my idea to have a public relations person tag along for the final stop of my tour.

I’m a free spirit, but the idea of having my time in Chicago broadcast through social media sounds obnoxious.

“You know who else has a bodyguard? Mafia. They’re people of importance. Do you think I could pass for a mobster?”

Jensen merely stares at me. Guess not. My wavy blond hair, which is mostly hidden under a cap, tan skin, bright blue button-up shirt, and khaki shorts make me look more like a surfer.

“Prisoners have guards,” I mumble.

“That they do.”

I drag my feet over to Gate C17 and fall into one of the chairs.

I immediately regret it. My ass is going to be bruised.

I’ve only been in Chicago for two hours, and I haven’t had a chance to adjust to the time zone from my international tour.

With my baseball cap low, I throw my sunglasses on, cross my arms, and lie across the bench chairs. I allow my body to just shut down.

Something jerks my foot, making me aware of the presence of people moving about. I peek my eyes open to see Jensen holding my foot in one hand and my carry-on in the other. Shit. I jump up and don’t see what could be the minion.

“Have you seen the minion?”

He shakes his head and hands me my boarding pass. “Maybe we’ll find them on the plane. I’m seated two rows behind you. The representative from Brunner PR is supposed to be in the seat next to you.”

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and they won’t show.”

Again, Jensen just stares at me. Yeah, I probably won’t get that lucky. There’s no telling what uptight bore my uncle has sent after me.

We board the plane and shuffle along the narrow aisle. I turn back to Jensen and say, “Moment of truth. Let’s see what awaits us.” Fingers crossed for an empty seat.

No such luck, but I still feel lucky. In the seat next to mine in first class is the most delicious delicacy.

This can’t possibly be who was sent to babysit me.

If she is, I’m going to owe my uncle and the universe an enormous thank-you for this sweet little blessing.

I’ve never laid eyes on such a sweet face—even if she’s scowling at me.

Such an adorable pinch between her eyebrows.

I want to ravish her, but that would be a travesty.

This divine creature is meant to be cherished.

Savored bit by bit. I’d love to spend my time tracing every curve and fine line with my tongue.

Tasting every part of her and determining what wine would pair perfectly with each part of her body.

A vision of pouring Chardonnay on her pussy and licking the last drop off has my pants getting uncomfortably tight.

“Can I help you? It’s rude to stare.” Her voice is somehow polite, but with a slicing undertone. It fits her. She appears like she’d be gentle yet feisty. I think I’m in love.

“My apologies for staring. It’s just, I think you’re the person I’ve been waiting for.”

There’s a round of awes and a hushed, “So romantic.” My intended audience, however, narrows her eyes in evident disgust and zero amusement.

“Cute.” She turns in her seat to look down the aisle and then the front of the plane.

“Are you looking for someone, too? It’s me, isn’t it?” I raise my eyebrows because she’s either searching for a flight attendant to ask me to leave or me , because she probably doesn’t realize who I am. At least I hope she’s not this rude to all her clients.

“Yes,” she says shortly.