Serendipity

By Lisa Chalmers

I'm about to say yes.

To spending an entire week alone, in a private villa, with a man I just met on an airport layover.

Is it crazy? Yes.

Worth it? Absolutely.

There's just something about Cillian that has me hooked. From the moment he took the bar stool next to mine, I knew. It was kismet. It was karma...It was crazy. And I was all in.

That layover was fate. That's the only explanation for the fact we each have a plus one to two different weddings. Seems like Serendipity.

But what happens when the week in paradise ends? Can we each go back to our separate lives on opposite coasts? Or will we say one last crazy yes to forever?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rebel Heart Ink
• Release date: Jun 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781999218560

Book preview

Serendipity

Lisa Chalmers

Rebel Heart Ink

Copyright © 2020 by Lisa Chalmers.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below.

Lisa Chalmers

Rebel Heart Ink

www.lisa-chalmers.com

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Cover art designed by Sarah Paige / Opium House Creatives

ISBN 978-1-9992185-6-0

Contents

1. Jade

2. Cillian

3. Jade

4. Cillian

5. Jade

6. Cillian

7. Jade

8. Cillian

9. Jade

10. Cillian

11. Jade

12. Cillian

13. Jade

14. Cillian

15. Jade

16. Cillian

17. Jade

18. Cillian

19. Jade

20. Cillian

21. Jade

22. Cillian

23. Jade

24. Cillian

25. Jade

26. Cillian

27. Jade

28. Cillian

29. Jade

30. Cillian

About Author

Also By Lisa Chalmers

Jade

Welcome to Atlanta...

A tired, weary sigh escaped me as I made my way through the international airport terminal. I hadn’t slept yet—I’d gone out last night with a few friends, and when I got home to finish packing, it was a few hours from me having to leave for the airport, so why bother trying to sleep. I’d gotten to LAX in plenty of time, cruised through security and everything, and had had two large coffees before I boarded.

But now, the caffeine was completely worn off.

My eyes felt heavy and dry and this really wasn’t the way I thought about kicking off my supposed week-long vacation.

Just a little longer and I’d be on my second and last flight of the day to Jamaica and my old college friend’s wedding.

Cupid was definitely working overtime among people I knew.

This was my third wedding this year, and my second destination event. The last one had been in Mexico. That flight had been non-stop, and the weather, like California’s, had been perfect, making that trip awesome. I hadn’t had to work and could spend my time outside, soaking up the sunshine and indulging in a couple of my favorite drinks and activities, including afternoon naps in my sweet air-conditioned room or in the cabana poolside.

For this one, I was practically going to a rainforest. The humidity was going to make my hair big, for sure, and the makeup run off my face. And while others may not care too much, I was a makeup artist and providing the makeup for the bride, although I had a feeling I might get roped into the entire wedding party as well, which was why I made sure I’d brought pretty much everything at my disposal.

My old friend Becca was a perfectionist and no doubt would want everything and everyone perfect.

But at least this was a destination wedding—it gave me an excuse for a bit of a vacation.

That didn’t take away the feeling that I had a lot to prove, though. Everyone I had gone to school with had gone on to what they deemed the more prestigious careers: lawyers, marketing, and I…I’d gone into makeup.

Despite having a contract with a major Hollywood studio and being a part of two really big movie franchises in the last couple of years, it always seemed like I’d come up short out of everyone I knew back then.

My phone began playing a familiar ringtone, and I stopped, pulling it out of my bag and looked at the screen.

So much for Welcome to Atlanta, a brief layover and on to paradise.

My phone notification had just informed me that my connecting flight was delayed, due to weather—some kind of wind issue grounding everything for the foreseeable future. They’d update when they could.

I’d known that had been a slight chance when we’d landed from LAX over an hour ago given the menacing clouds that had started appearing in the distance on our approach into the airport, but I’d been hoping maybe the weather would hold off long enough to let the next few flights, including my own, to get up into the air.

No such luck.

I checked the time on the phone before tucking my phone back into my tote bag. Just after eleven in the morning, or as my body clock knew it, just after eight.

I looked around the terminal.

I hadn’t been there before, totally didn’t know my way around, and at the moment didn’t really want to try and figure out what I was going to do for the next who knew how many hours. I had an inkling this wasn’t going to be something that passed quickly.

What to do, what to do...

A restless energy bubbled, making me too antsy to sit in the lounge and wait.

I walked slowly, looking into the shops along the way. Didn’t really feel like browsing. Even despite the hour, I wasn’t too sure I felt like eating a lot, either. The fast food place looked packed with families and little kids running around.

Nope, definitely couldn’t handle that on pretty much zero sleep.

I caught sight of a bar up ahead.

Bingo.

I could definitely go for a drink.

I was on holidays, after all. And I’d go for something light. A mimosa, maybe. Couldn’t get too tipsy on that.

I picked up my pace a little, noticing more people starting to stream into the terminal as no doubt they’d got a similar announcement to the notification I’d received.

I stepped inside the airport bar and welcomed the sudden change. Not as brightly lit as the area outside. The place for the moment was decidedly sparse, the collection of tables and chairs to the sides fairly empty, but I had a feeling with more flight delays and likely cancellations imminent, that wouldn’t be the case for long. More travelers were going to arrive to drink their time away.

I made my way past some empty tables, not wanting to sit alone, or worst yet, have a group of people decide to join me because there was no room elsewhere.

No, thank you.

Which left the long expanse of bar.

I scanned the lengthy counter that ran almost the width of the place, a glossy black and silver, with plenty of high-back stools running in front of it. Some were occupied, mostly lined up in front of the televisions overhead that were on.

It was fairly empty to the side. About a dozen people were scattered on stools off to the right, drinks and food in front of them, eyes glued to the screens mounted above. Eight TVs, three off, the others showing a different channel on each screen.

That worked for me.

I’d prefer to be alone, go find a book or something to read on my phone, and hope this storm was going to be short-lived.

I didn’t want to spend the afternoon sleeping in a lounge somewhere, hoping to make a flight that may or may not get eventual clearance for takeoff.

I maneuvered my way easily to the far side where there were a few empty spots and staked my claim. I sat down gratefully, tucked my rolling carry-on in front of me, and set my tote bag on my lap before placing my phone in front of me.

I smiled at the bartender further down the bar, and he nodded my way, so at least he knew I was here. I put my phone in front of me, happy to see it had a decent-enough charge.

The row of televisions mounted above the bar caught my eye. The ones that were on played various sports. The one at the far end? Someone must have had the remote for it, as channel after channel flicked by.

Nothing grabbed my attention, so I turned to my phone.

I checked emails—nothing. No new texts. I sent one, saying that I’d be late landing and would probably miss the afternoon get-together. For that, I was a little grateful.

I would be one of the lone singles there. Destination weddings weren’t necessarily my thing the last little while.

Correction, weddings weren’t my thing the last while.

Ten months ago, when the invitations had gone out, I’d happily accepted. I had been in a relationship...and then two months later, I hadn’t been.

And here I was, still single. My plus-one something that seemed laughable with the rate my love life was going.

Texts sent, I went to one of the weather websites and checked out the Atlanta forecast.

Perfect.

A wind warning. Chance of major storm, hopefully clearing by mid to late afternoon. Even better. I didn’t want to spend the rest of the day camped out in the airport. I’d done that once in my life, and it wasn’t an experience I was eager to repeat. Besides, all I had with me for carry-on was my makeup, a change of T-shirt, a pair of flip flops, my small tote bag, and my purse.

Literally, when it rained, it poured? I just needed to get in the air before the storm hit.

A jacket brushed against me, knocking me slightly forward.

I glanced over at the college frat boy type who’d squeezed his way into the seat to my right as his leg bumped against mine.

He grinned at me but didn’t say anything.

Great, just my luck.

He tapped his hands on the bar and gave me another grin.

I wanted to tell him I wasn’t on the menu, but instead, I shook my head for a moment and went back to my phone, bringing up a magazine on my app. The bartender was still down at the other end, serving what looked like a group pointing towards one of the tables.

I caught Frat Boy still eyeing me from the corner of his eye. He looked like a talker.

Shit.

Maybe I’d drink faster than I expected. Or just take some food to go and sit in a lounge somewhere. They had to serve something edible in here, didn’t they?

I could always get up and try one of those fast food places, but it was too early to deal with large lineups and loud children.

Frat Boy moved closer, leaning across me to grab one of the menus.

Excuse me? The words spilled out my mouth as I glared at him.

Oh…sorry… His hand dropped away, and he started back towards his seat, not looking sorry in the least.

I huffed out a small breath of annoyance. One more move and I’d be headed to the nearest burger place, I told myself. I looked past Frat Boy—the bartender was still busy further down, but right beside Frat Boy was one of those handy menu cardboard triangles. So no need to reach for mine. I almost pointed it out, but I didn’t want to give him the opening he clearly was aiming for.

I was about to reach for the one in front of me when I caught movement to my left side and braced myself for another bump, but instead, there wasn’t any.

Just the faint scent of cologne as the man moved closer by me, squeezing carefully into the small space.

Excuse me…

I glanced up at the deep voice, finding a man in all-black taking the stool to my left. I gave him a quick once-over: black sneakers, jeans, black button-down shirt over a blue T-shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal well-toned forearms and a rather expensive looking leather wristwatch. Short, dark brown hair. He set a large leather backpack by his feet as he took the last empty bar stool. Apparently, I’d been right on the place filling up.

I caught his smile and managed a meek one back, seriously hoping he wouldn’t think I’d just given him the once-over, which I totally inadvertently had.

He was a much-needed improvement over Frat Boy to my other side. So much so, I would have happily moved my chair over. Instead, I just swiveled myself slightly more in his direction.

He put his hands on the bar in front of him, setting his own phone down, and glanced up at the televisions.

Good, he wasn’t a talker.

I still had a feeling Frat Boy was, and would be, the second I paid him the slightest attention.

I sighed to myself and went back to my phone.

The new guy reached for the food menu on the little folded triangle I’d been contemplating then leaned forward, looking towards one of the male bartenders further down and making some sort of signal. The bartenders had seemingly multiplied since I’d arrived. The one behind the bar had suddenly been joined by two more, but none had so far ventured far enough down for me to even have a hint of how long it would be for a drink.

I was tempted to tell him it was going to be a while as I hadn’t even been served yet either, but I kept my mouth shut.

A moment later, the first bartender walked by, and he seemed to nod to the guy beside me.

Whatever.

Frat Boy suddenly left as the bartender started making his way back towards my side of the bar.

I swiped the screen, turning the page and going back to my article on the latest hairstyle trends, when the bartender spoke to the guy beside me.

What can I get you two?

Two?

Oh, great, he’d found someone else to serve.

Maybe the new guy had a girlfriend…perfect. Serve them and just let me sit here.

I’ll have a Bloody Mary, and what about you, baby?

I lifted my head. That voice had been from the man beside me, and I caught him looking in my direction.

He winked at me, and I swear my stomach fluttered the second our eyes met.

Crazy.

It had to be from the lack of sleep and food and a million other things.

The bartender stood waiting in front of us.

I quickly realized he was trying to buy me a drink and save me further wait.

Plus, he was hot as hell, and I wasn’t going to argue.

Uh...a mimosa, please. I smiled and put my phone down in front of me.

On its way.

The bartender disappeared down the bar for our drinks.

Baby? I’d wanted to ask, but the amusement in his eyes kept me from speaking. He was gorgeous—dark hair, twinkling green eyes, a little stubble, square jaw, dimples.

Dimples, my life-long weakness.

Sorry about that, but I figure the only reason he even looked at me was because you were beside me.

I could feel the blush creeping up my neck and laughed softly. Well, I’m glad to help. But you really don’t need to buy my drink. This is the airport. A mimosa will cost more than twenty bucks.

He pulled the bowl of peanuts one of the other bartenders had just set down by us towards him and chuckled, his eyes crinkling. No, it’s on me. Besides, it’s nice to not be alone for a few minutes.

Well, thank you...that drink is going to be the highlight of my morning...

He held his hand out. Cillian...

Jade... I shook his hand. No ring, no indents from a ring. My smile widened just a little bit.

Maybe I was wrong.

Maybe he was going to be the highlight of my morning.

Bad day, huh? he asked.

Pretty much. I didn’t sleep last night because I figured I had to get to LAX so early, why not just stay up since I could sleep on the flights, except...

Except the weather delay?

Exactly. Someone must have pissed off Mother Nature today.

He laughed and put his hand up. I swear it wasn’t me.

Good.

I looked up at one of the screens, seeing the weather warning go ticking by on the bottom. Thunderstorm. Major. Intense lightning imminent.

Great. Just great.

Here you go... The bartender set each of our drinks in front of us and asked if we needed anything else.

I reached for the little table menu, taking a quick scan. Order of fries...we’ll split them.

On their way.

Cillian smiled.

Sorry. I haven’t eaten in... I checked the time on my phone. Over twelve hours.

He chuckled. That’s awhile. So, where are you headed, Jade?

Destination wedding. Jamaica. I turned the screen on my phone off, my magazine app completely forgotten as I put the device back into my tote bag. My new friend was more interesting than what I’d been reading. What about you? Where are you headed?

It was nice to have someone to talk to, and it didn’t hurt he looked as good as Cillian did.

He raised an eyebrow. Jamaica. Destination wedding. Long-time friend is getting hitched... He took a sip of his Bloody Mary. And apparently, getting married anywhere in NYC was a little too traditional for them.

I know the feeling.

So, sounds like we’re on the same flight.

Talk about a coincidence.

I think they call it serendipity. He lifted his glass. To serendipity.

Serendipity. I clinked my glass against his then took a sip. It was nice to have something cold. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had anything to drink. We had probably still been in L.A. whenever that was. I’d had one bottle water for most of the flight, not wanting to over-caffeinate myself. This is my second of three destination weddings this year. So far, I’ve been to Mexico, which wasn’t bad, now Jamaica...and in a few months, my sister’s getting married in Napa.

Always a bridesmaid, never a bride?

I wiggled my ringless fingers. Seems that way.

The corner of his mouth lifted into a smile.

We drank in comfortable silence for a few minutes. From the corner of my eye, I saw a woman about thirty approach from the far end of the bar behind Cillian. Her auburn hair was perfect, so was her makeup. She stopped for a moment, seemingly looking straight at the man who would be sharing my fries, then approached the bartender who was about fifteen feet away from us…by practically leaning against Cillian’s other side.

I stared speechless for a moment, but he didn’t even react or acknowledge her presence, and I just reached for a sip of my drink.

How was your morning? I asked him as the bartender went to help the woman pushing over Cillian’s shoulder. I couldn’t tell if she was that desperate for a drink...or Cillian’s attention. I was guessing fifty-fifty.

The bartender shot me a wink as he moved her down the bar.

Yep, gonna guess the bartender had figured she was more into Cillian than the drink.

I’d make sure I gave him a tip before I left.

Not great. Although I probably did get more sleep than you. I had to be at JFK at an ungodly hour, but I worked while I waited, so... He shrugged.

Ah.

I had the sense he was a workaholic.

The bartender arrived with my fries and two forks. Cillian picked one up and dug in while I reached for the ketchup he’d put near us.

So, JFK meant he was from New York? I’d been trying to figure out his accent, but it didn’t sound very New-Yorkish.

Where are you from? The question slipped out easily as I added some more ketchup.

He dunked the fries on his fork in the ketchup. New York.

State or city?

City. He looked at me, reaching for another fry with his fork. Manhattan.

You don’t have the accent, though.

He had a certain confidence about him, a swagger as he sat there and talked. There was a definite ease about him which drew me in and made me instantly comfortable until I had the sinking feeling of where the conversation was headed. The moment he found out I was a makeup artist, he’d finish his drink and head out. I’d learned in the last few years of dating, men didn’t exactly think highly of my field. I’d tried simply saying artist a few times, and it seemed to work. But NYC and artist? He’d probably pull out his phone to Google my work.

He laughed, and I found myself smiling at the sound as I stabbed another fry with my fork.

I hear that sometimes. Grew up on the west coast, went to school in NYC, and ended up staying. He pointed his fork at me. What about you?

California. Los Angeles.

Do you like it there?

Most of the time. What about you?

NYC keeps things interesting.

So, what do you do?

I am in real estate. What about you?

And there it was, the question that could always derail a promising situation. Get ready for him to bolt, I told myself.

I took a long sip of my mimosa. Maybe the woman down the bar would get her wish, after all. Cillian could go down there and talk her up. Nothing as lucrative as your job, I’m afraid. I’m a makeup artist. I do makeup for movies, that sort of thing.

I broke eye contact first, glancing at my drink before risking a glance back up. He was still looking at me.

I love making people look beautiful or scary, or both, I continued.

That must be interesting. Transforming people...do you enjoy it?

That’s my favorite part of the job. Making someone into something completely different. It can take hours, sometimes never-ending hours, it’s a challenge sometimes, things evolve, techniques change. Makeup itself changes. It’s cool to transform someone into a zombie. I laughed softly. With makeup, I added.

You had me wondering. He set his drink down. Is it your passion?

I think it is. You?

Real estate? It’s like you said, a challenge, things change, shift...you either learn to go along with them or you find yourself a new career after a while.

He finished his drink, and I was getting ready for him to make his departure. Instead, he signaled the bartender for two refills. I was surprised to see I’d finished the mimosa without realizing.

We sat there talking; the drinks were refilled. People around us came and went. I was lost in conversation when our phones went off at the same time. I leaned over slightly as he reached for his. He nodded, tilting it so I could see it.

The weather’s supposed to have cleared enough. We’re going to try to take off in about two hours, he said.

Finally.

I’m that bad company? he asked with a teasing grin.

Hardly. I just want to be in the air.

Cillian paid the bar tab, and I stood reluctantly, smoothing a hand over my long T-shirt.

I finished my drink, making sure to grab some money out of my wallet and leave it under my glass for the bartender.

Soon enough, we’d be boarding, and I’d never see Cillian again.

Just my luck.

Meet a gorgeous guy who put me instantly at ease, could hold a conversation, and of course, thank you Universe, he’d be from the east coast.

He hefted the backpack over his shoulder and motioned for me to go in front of him. The bar was surprisingly packed. I hadn’t even noticed the whole time we’d been talking. I spotted Frat Boy talking to the woman who’d tried to lean over Cillian earlier. A match made in Heaven if I said so myself.

Cillian and I left the bar and stopped in the middle of the terminal. People were hurrying past us, heading to rerouted gates and who knew where else. I’d hate to say goodbye to him. He was fun, he was good-looking, and he made the time go by a lot faster. Maybe I’d see him at the gate before we boarded.

I decided I probably should get the goodbye over with. I could find the gate, claim a seat if there was one available, and go back to that article on hair trends. I glanced up to see him watching me, that easygoing smile on his face.

It was nice meeting you...and thanks so much for the food and the mimosas. Maybe we could exchange numbers? ran through my mind, but before I could utter the words, he spoke.

Anytime. He checked his watch. We have time ’til we need to be at the gate. Come with me.

Where? The word was out almost the second he finished speaking.

I could use the company for a while longer.