Her First Last I Love You

Her Last First I Love You Brittany Larsen Also By The Grumpy Side of Paradise Landin' in Trouble Dizzy in Love Just One Look The Royal’s Enemy The Matchmaker’s Match Sense & Second Chances Pride & Politics Anthology Collections Wedding Belles Heart of the Frontier Horses, Hounds, and Happily Ever After Copyright Copyright © 2019 by Brittany Larsen All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Contents 1. Chapter 1 2. Chapter 2 3. Chapter 3 4. Chapter 4 5. Chapter 5 6. Chapter 6 7. Chapter 7 8. Chapter 8 9. Chapter 9 10. Chapter 10 11. Chapter 11 12. Chapter 12 13. Chapter 13 14. Chapter 14 15. Chapter 15 16. Chapter 16 17. Chapter 17 18. Chapter 18 19. Chapter 19 20. Chapter 20 Epilogue Before You Go Thank You About the Author Chapter one Geoffrey As soon as the woman in the Gucci track suit took the seat across the aisle from him, Geoffrey knew he was in trouble. He pulled down his Dodgers hat—a little souvenir he’d picked up when his agent took him to a game—and hoped she got the message that he was in no mood for socializing. She didn’t. She glanced at him, did a double take, then settled into her seat with a smug grin plastered across her face. The engines roared to life and a flight attendant stopped between their seats with complimentary glasses of champagne. “My name is Stacey. I’m here to make sure you have a first-class experience on British Airways. Can I get you anything else before we take off?” She gracefully set the glasses on their trays. “I’ll have a gin and tonic,” his Guccified neighbor said and let her eyes take a slow walk from the top of his head to his chest before turning back to the flight attendant. “He’ll have coffee, black, with a splash of Bailey’s in it.” For a split second, Geoffrey, who’d been about to order a cup of chamomile tea, wondered why this woman would think he wanted coffee, especially on a red-eye. Then he remembered. The bloody Tattler article. He opened his mouth to change his order, but the flight attendant had already moved on to the couple seated behind them. “I’m Blythe.” Blythe held out her hand and pressed it, and her chest, toward him. “I saw the spread about you in Tattler.” “Did you?” Geoffrey grasped the tips of Blythe’s fingers and shook them, being very careful not to accidentally graze anything else. He guessed from her accent she was from Manchester. He also guessed she’d be throwing herself at him for the rest of the flight. Even if she hadn’t ordered his drink, she still wouldn’t have stood a chance. He’d caught a glimpse of what looked like a Manchester United tattoo on her ankle, and he loathed Man U; every self-respecting Tottenham Spurs fan did. “I don’t actually drink much coffee.” He moved as far from her as possible, which wasn’t far. “Or Bailey’s, for that matter. I’m not sure where the boys at Tattler got that idea.” From him, that’s where. It had been a stupid question, so he’d given them a stupid answer. Who in the world cared what he liked to drink at teatime? Well, other than Blythe, who apparently cared enough to remember that “fact” six months after the article about him had come out. The lights dimmed and he pushed the call button. As the plane began moving backward, the flight attendant made her way to him. She bent forward to ask, “Can I help you, sir?” at the same time the pilot asked the flight attendants to be seated for take-off. “Tea—chamomile, when you have a moment,” he said. “Of course. As soon as we’re airborne.” She was about to sit when another flight attendant stopped her. “We’ve got a puker,” he whispered loudly enough that Geoffrey could hear. “She’s preggers, and the smell of the loo set her off. She needs to lie down.” Blythe peeked her head around the two attendants and held up her phone. “Do you mind opening the blinds so I can get a pic as we take off?” she asked Geoffrey. Geoffrey pushed up his blind but kept his attention on the attendants’ conversation. “We’re packed,” Stacey whispered. “Where’s she supposed to lie down?” Blythe’s phone clicked, and Geoffrey didn’t need to see the picture to know it was of him and not the scenery. “Pardon me.” Geoffrey stood and tapped Stacey’s shoulder as she and the other attendant walked toward their jump seats. “I overheard . . . the lady can have my seat.” Stacey glanced from Geoffrey to his first-class seat, not hiding her surprise. “Are you sure you want to do that? It’s in coach, sir.” The airplane picked up speed, and Blythe’s phone clicked again. She’d have a year’s worth of Instagram posts by the time they touched down in London. Geoffrey leaned close to Stacey and whispered, “Please. You’d be doing me a favor.” “He’ll be doing us a favor too,” the other flight attendant chimed in. “If she’s lying down, she can sleep. If she’s sleeping, she won’t be retching.” Stacey nodded. “Okay. Let’s get them switched. But after we reach cruising altitude.” “Thank you.” Geoffrey breathed a sigh of relief and sat down again. He breathed another sigh of relief when Stacey asked Blythe to put her phone away during take-off. In the meantime, he’d have to do a little damage control. “Blythe.” He leaned across the aisle and rested his hand lightly on her arm. “I hate to be a bother . . .” He gazed deeply into her eyes, firing up his best smolder. “But if you happened to get me in any of those shots, would you mind deleting them?” “Oh.” She turned toward him, leaning forward to give him a