Manesto Nights
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S. L. Adams
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501K
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75
Chapter 1
VICKY
My quads screamed in protest. My lungs burned with each ragged breath.
Keep going.
Don’t give up now.
Adrenaline fueled me through the field of lady slippers. I ran as fast as I could, the lush grass tickling my bare feet. My wedding dress billowed around me, the breeze lifting it above my knees as I sprinted toward the finish line.
The airfield loomed on the horizon. Flungfarwood Airport was nothing more than a few hangars and a small terminal surrounded by the trees and mountains of Northern Alaska. But on that warm summer day, the tiny airport was my ticket to freedom.
I stopped when I reached the asphalt, bracing my hands on my knees while I caught my breath. My chest heaved, my heart thundering against my ribs while I recovered from a mini marathon I clearly wasn’t prepared for.
My phone was tucked safely in my Spanx. I fished it out and fired off a text.
Vicky
I’m here.
A response came less than a minute later.
Arlo
Hangar two.
I shielded my eyes in the late-afternoon sun, scanning the buildings. Hangar two was straight across the clearing. I slipped on my heels and hurried over the asphalt.
Arlo appeared in the open doorway. “I knew you wouldn’t go through with it,” he said as he hustled me around the hangar to where a small plane was waiting.
“I got closer than last time,” I said.
“I see that. How did you escape?”
“I climbed out the bathroom window.”
“Why did you put on your dress? It would’ve been easier to run in regular clothes.”
“I thought if I was in my dress, I might be more inclined to walk down the aisle.”
“How did that work out for you?”
“Well, it didn’t, obviously.”
“If you didn’t want to marry those guys, why didn’t you just say no, Vicky?”
“I don’t know.”
“You have to stop getting engaged just to keep your dads off your case.”
“They seemed okay at first.”
“You should’ve told them you didn’t want to get married. Imagine what they’re going through right now.”
I glared at him. “I didn’t know I didn’t want to get married until this morning, Arlo,” I snapped. “Get off my ass. You promised to help me escape.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling me into his arms. “Happy birthday, beautiful. You don’t look a day over twenty-five.”
“Very funny.”
“What are you going to do when you get to Anchorage?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“Did you bring a change of clothes?”
“No.”
“ID?”
“Of course.”
“Where is it?”
“Hidden in the back of my phone case.”
He shook his head, gesturing for me to climb the steps to the plane. “Let’s go. My other passengers should be here any minute.”
“I thought you said you were flying solo down to Anchorage and picking up people there to bring back?”
“That was before three flights were diverted here from Fairbanks on account of the fires burning in the Yukon.”
“Well, that’s just annoying. I thought I was gonna have the plane all to myself.”
“Sorry, princess.”
“Don’t call me that, Arlo.”
“Then stop acting like one, Vicky.”
I made my way to the back of the cabin. The plane had six rows of seats. Hopefully, the other passengers would sit up front and leave me alone.
I wasn’t in the mood for company.
I was no stranger to flying. I grew up in Alaska. I’d flown to Fairbanks many times for various reasons. Shopping, medical appointments, dental cleanings.
Flungfarwood was an isolated town with a population of just over eight hundred and one commercial street that offered only the basic necessities for daily living. If you needed something that wasn’t available, it was quicker to jump on a plane than wait for it to be delivered.
But this flight was different.
I wasn’t coming back.
There was no future for me there.
I wanted more out of life than to be a wife and mother. Being a twenty-something single woman in Flungfarwood was unheard of. People looked at me like I was some sort of freak.
Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. A tall, muscular dude appeared, ducking his head as he entered the cabin. He glanced briefly in my direction with a stern scowl before taking a seat in the first row.
Another man appeared a moment later. Unlike the grump up front, this one actually smiled and nodded as he came down the aisle and settled in the seat across from me.
“The back of the plane is the safest place to be in a crash,” he advised, his deep, sexy voice resonating right between my legs.
Seriously? He’s old. Did you miss the gray hair?
“I did not know that,” I said.
He leaned across the aisle and extended his hand. “Hollis Becker.”
I reached out to accept, his long fingers swallowing my hand with a firm shake.
“Vicky Vespa.”
“Nice to meet you, Vicky Vespa.”
I glanced up when the next passenger entered. “Nice,” I murmured under my breath while I checked out the hot hunk of a man sauntering down the aisle.
Oh yeah. Finally, a guy my age.
You just ran out on your wedding. You’re still wearing your wedding dress. And you’re checking out another guy? Look at him!
Shoulder-length, curly blond hair. Thick sideburns with a short beard and mustache.
Luscious lips. Captivating light-blue eyes.
The sexy Viking gave me an indifferent once-over before folding his long, lean body into a seat a couple of rows up.
“Are you on your way to your wedding?” Hollis inquired.
I returned my attention to the sexy silver fox. “From,” I replied.
He scratched the back of his head. “Um, where is your groom?”
“Grooms,” I corrected.
His bushy gray eyebrows shot up.
“How many people are out there?” I muttered when a fourth man appeared, putting an end to the streak of hot flying companions.
Redheaded guys didn’t really do it for me. There was one in the harem I left at the altar, and I faked it every time I had a one-on-one with him.
Palmer was a sweet guy, but he had serious performance anxiety.
And yet you got up this morning and put on a wedding dress, with the intention of marrying him.
Not just him. He was part of a package deal.
“Hello,” he said slowly, his nasally voice a bigger turnoff than his ginger hair and pale skin. “I’m Sutton.”
“Vicky,” I said. “Before you ask, I ran out on my wedding.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”
If this plane crashes on a deserted island, you’ll be shit out of luck.
I’d fuck the two grumps and the old dude before I’d let you near me with your freckled pecker.
Heck, I’d bang Arlo before a pasty white carrot top who looks like he never goes outside.
Arlo is gay.
I could ungay him.
You can’t ungay someone, and that’s not a word.
One night with me, and he’d be straight, and ungay would be added to the dictionary.
The skinny shoe salesman loosened his tie before sitting down in the row in front of Hollis.
Arlo’s deep voice came through the speaker. “Good afternoon, folks. I’ve been advised that all passengers are onboard, and we’ve been cleared for takeoff. We will be landing in Anchorage at approximately six o’clock.”
The engines roared to life. I gazed out the window as we taxied to the small runway.
The little plane picked up speed, the wheels lifting off the ground, carrying me away from the only home I’d ever known.
I was too excited to be sad. My escape from Flungfarwood was long overdue.
I should’ve left the day I turned eighteen. Not twenty-five.
I couldn’t get back all the time I wasted. All I could do was move forward with my new life.
Hollis turned to me. “Can I ask how many grooms you left behind?”
“Three.”
