“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” Paul asked, gesturing to the empty aisle seat beside her.

Wren glanced up from her book, her dark curls brushing against her cheek as she shook her head. “No, go ahead.” She shifted her legs slightly to give him room, her fitted jeans hugging her curves as she tucked her feet under the seat. Paul caught a faint whiff of her perfume—something floral and warm—as he settled in, his broad shoulders brushing the armrest.

“Long flight ahead,” he said, glancing at the boarding crowd. Wren smiled, her lips curving softly, and closed her book. “Yeah, but at least we’ve got good company, right?” Her tone was light, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes that made him pause. Before he could respond, the flight attendant announced the doors were closing, and Wren leaned closer, her voice dropping. “So, what’s your story, Paul?”