ground.
CHAPTER 3
“Taylor? Can you hear me?” Taylor felt a warm, rough hand stroking her cheek. “I need you to tell me if you feel any pain.”
She knew she was in a state of shock, but more than anything she felt too terrified to open her eyes and see the damage. Not to the plane, but to the people on board and to her own body. The plane had slammed belly first into the ground, the crushing metal groaning and screeching as they came to a grinding halt.
Still strapped into her seat, she carefully began flexing her limbs, fingers, and toes. She didn’t feel any discomfort.
Slowly, she opened her eyes and glanced over at Candy, whose red hair was a tangled mess.
“Taylor? Can you hear me?” Bennett bent down in front of her, those startling blue eyes intensely focused on her face. Taylor noted a small cut on his forehead and a little blood on his white shirt, but all-in-all he looked pretty damned pristine. Even his thick, brown hair was only mildly ruffled. As for the plane, bits and pieces of the aircraft’s interior covered the floor, but Taylor imagined the exterior resembled a junkyard sculpture.
“Is everyone okay? Are
you
okay?” she said, trying to catch her breath.
“Yes.” Bennett smiled, and it was a full-blown genuine smile. Luscious male lips curling up in the corners, complete with puckering dimples smack dab in the middle of each cheek. And those eyes: they were filled with a devilishly triumphant twinkle.
It was then that Taylor noticed a small scar right under his lower lip, running diagonally toward the tip of his cleft chin. The stubble of his beard didn’t grow in that spot, so it must’ve been a deep cut. She wondered what story he’d tell about it. Another plane crash, perhaps? Skydiving accident?
Why the hell am I staring at his chin? I just survived a plane crash.
The sound of sirens screamed in the background, growing louder as the vehicles approached.
“Where are we?” Taylor asked, unbuckling her seatbelt with her shaking hands.
“Portland Airport. You stay in your seat until the paramedics look you over,” Bennett said. “You might have head trauma or a concussion.”
Candy was already up and trying to pry open the door of the plane.
“How come she’s walking around?” Taylor asked.
“She’s an employee,” he said dismissively.
Taylor’s jaw dropped.
“I pay her well,” he added, “and it’s her job to ensure the safety of the passengers first.”
That didn’t mean she couldn’t be injured or that she wasn’t in shock and deserving of his compassion, too.
“She almost died because of you,” Taylor snapped.
“She almost died because the plane’s computer had a glitch, and she lived because I landed the plane safely. Well, Frank and I.”
“She works for you and almost lost her life on the job,” Taylor ranted. “Doesn’t that matter to you? Or what about you putting me on a plane against my will, and me almost dying because of it? But there you are congratulating yourself like you just won the gold medal in the Olympic daredevil medley. Do you have a heart or a soul anywhere inside there? Anywhere at all?”
His icy disposition returned, and it seemed he was about to speak—no doubt to dish a heaping helping of ego-infested insults meant to belittle her—but the door pushed open and the emergency personnel poured in past Candy.
Bennett stepped out of the way, and the paramedics descended upon Taylor. As they flashed lights in her eyes and held fingers in her face, Taylor caught a glimpse of his eyes, their expression somewhere between wounded and irate. Then they whisked Bennett away.
All of a sudden, Taylor felt like the heartless one. Bennett Wade had saved her life. Why had she yelled at him like that?
Shock. You’re in shock
. And she’d lashed out at the man because of it.
“Bennett! Wait!”
But he was gone. And had he stayed, Taylor didn’t know what she would’ve said.
Maybe…I’m sorry?
Two Weeks Later
Taylor
Marina Dyachenko, Sergey Dyachenko