New Heights

Riptide Publishing

PO Box 1537

Burnsville, NC 28714

www.riptidepublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All person(s) depicted on the cover are model(s) used for illustrative purposes only.

New Heights

Copyright © 2018 by Quinn Anderson

Smashwords Edition

Cover art: L.C. Chase, lcchase.com/design.htm

Editor: May Peterson, maypetersonbooks.com

Layout: L.C. Chase, lcchase.com/design.htm

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Riptide Publishing at the mailing address above, at Riptidepublishing.com, or at marketing@riptidepublishing.com.

ISBN: 978-1-62649-745-0

First edition

March, 2018

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After attending a friend’s wedding in New York, James Thompson is eager to go home, even though no one will be waiting for him at the gate. He has no expectations for his trip back to Charleston other than long lines, security, and bad airplane food. But when an annoying—albeit hot—stranger cuts him in line, James is determined not to be a pushover for once.

For Mika It’s Mee-kuh, not Micah Bailey, today’s just another day of boring work travel. That is, until his flight gets delayed, and some irritating (but handsome) guy keeps hogging all the good power outlets. Which means war. In the middle of an airport. In New York. What could go wrong?

Eventually, they declare a truce, and as they get to know each other, their attraction overwhelms them both. Terrified of what he’s feeling, Mika suggests a no-strings hookup, but serial-monogamist James wants more. If they don’t fight for what’s right in front of them, their romance might be canceled before it ever takes off.

To May, the best editor ever, and a phenomenal friend. I couldn’t do it without you.

About New Heights

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Also by Quinn Anderson

About the Author

More like this

How was the wedding?

James surveyed the open suitcase on the bed, running through a mental catalog of the possessions he’d brought with him and comparing it to what he saw.

James?

From a phone on the polished nightstand came the sound of his sister’s voice, but James was too absorbed in thought to pay it much mind. In his hand, he held a departure checklist he’d scribbled on the hotel’s stationery as soon as he’d arrived.

Pack up all his clothes? Check. Make sure he had his socks? Double check. Return his tux to the rental place on the way to the airport? Soon to be a check. He glanced at where it was hanging in the room’s small closet.

Looks like everything’s set, but I should do one final sweep of the room to be—

James!

He startled and glanced at his phone, half expecting to see an astral version of his sister’s face glaring at him. Sorry, Mel. What was that?

I asked about the wedding. Melissa’s irritation was palpable, even through a speaker. He could picture her, clear as a photograph: sitting cross-legged on her bed in her dorm room with a pile of textbooks around her. Her wavy blond hair—the same as James’s, only longer—would slide over her freckled shoulders as she shook her head at him. Why’d you call me if you were going to ignore me?

Wasn’t trying to, lil sis. I was going over my—

Lemme guess. You made a checklist.

Guilty.

Why am I not surprised?

James smiled to himself as he looked around the room. I don’t want to forget anything. There’s nothing wrong with being thorough. As he walked around the bed, he paused by a window and threw the curtain open, revealing an impressive view of Manhattan. The black of the asphalt was punctuated by yellow cabs and silver skyscrapers, all packed beneath an overcast sky. I’m a long way from Charleston. It’s not like I can come back if I lose something.

If you forget something, buy a replacement.

I get that as a little sister you’re contractually obligated to be annoying, but please feel free to take some time off. James released the curtain, and the white gauzy material swished back into place.

Just stating the obvious, bro.

Right, because I’m drowning in money from all those student loans I took out. He walked back over to his suitcase and felt in the front pockets for his charger. I hear you never have to pay those back, so you spend ’em without remorse. Want me to buy you a pony?

Melissa laughed. No one made you go to grad school, brainiac. You could have called it quits after four years like a normal person, but no.

Forgive me for having goals.

I’m still waiting to hear about the wedding, by the way. How was it? You meet any guys?

It was fun, and yeah, I met plenty of guys. None of whom were available, of course. It reminded me of a nineties sitcom. Remember back when women would moan that all the good ones are taken or gay? From where I’m sitting, they’re all straight or only interested in hooking up.

So, hook up. Melissa paused, and James could almost hear her shrugging. There’s no law against it.

I’d rather not talk about casual sex with a family member, thank you very much. Satisfied that he had everything, James zipped up his laptop bag and then did the same for his suitcase. Two seconds later, he unzipped the former, positive that he’d forgotten the power cord despite having checked it twice already.

Don’t be such a prude. Seriously, it’d do you some good to let loose every now and then. Especially after David—

I don’t want to talk about David. If James’s voice cracked as he said the name, he chose to ignore it. "There’s nothing to talk about."

Uh-huh. You two still pretending to be friends?

We are friends, Mel.

Yeah, the sort of friends who only speak when he needs something.

James contemplated snatching up his phone and ending the call, but if he did, she’d count it as a victory. We’re still figuring out where we stand with each other.

Good luck with that. Mercifully, Melissa switched back to their earlier subject. So, the wedding went smoothly and all that? You didn’t blank on your speech or get drunk and confess your love for the groom?

Nope. I wasn’t all that nervous, if you can believe that. I opened with a joke and told some embarrassing college stories. The best man gold standard.

Nothing went wrong at all? That, like, never happens.

Well, no. There were a few problems. Yesterday morning, when we were all getting ready to drive to the church, the priest’s car wouldn’t start. But I had jumper cables in my rental car, so it was fine. Oh, and the maid of honor forgot the something blue, so I had to give up my tie. Shame, too. It matched my eyes.

He glanced up and caught his reflection in the mirror above the dresser. His dark-blue eyes were bloodshot from staying up too late after the ceremony, which made them eerily bright. He needed to get a haircut when he got back home too, or else he was really going to look like his sister.

The bride was superstitious, huh?

Oh yeah. They followed all the old traditions. No seeing each other before the wedding. No knives on their gift registry. And Fred carried her over every threshold they crossed for like six hours after the ceremony. It got tricky as the champagne started flowing.

Melissa laughed. I would pay money to see Fred carrying Nevaeh around in her big, poofy dress. Was she stressed?

Yup. James sat on the bed and fumbled for his shoes, which had gotten kicked under the edge. Mostly thanks to the maid of honor. Nevaeh had to pick her sister for the job, and it was clear Sis wasn’t the most organized.

Well, if I’m best maid or whatever at your wedding, I promise I’ll put some effort into it.

Pain flashed through James. If I ever get married, that is.

Shaking off the mood swing, he pulled on his shoes. I wish we’d been able to do some sightseeing, but there were so many last-minute details to take care of. At least I’ll have Sunday to unpack before class on Monday.

Yes, of course. Because if you don’t unpack right when you get home, the world will end.

Since he couldn’t glare at her, James shot a sour look at his phone. I have to get going.

Your plane isn’t leaving until three.

Yeah, but I have to check out of the hotel by eleven, and I want to get there with plenty of time to spare.

"Three hours’ worth of time to spare?"

He shrugged on instinct. This is New York City. I’m sure the airports are jammed twenty-four seven.

"Bro, you’re flying out from MacArthur Airport. It’s tiny. People go to there to avoid the crowds at JFK. You could do some sightseeing right now. You have time to squeeze in a trip to Central Park at least."

I suppose that’s true. James debated with himself in his head. Then again, you never know—

What could happen. Melissa sighed. I’ve heard that one before.

Well, it’s true.

James, you’re my brother, and I love you, but sometimes you act like you’re eighty-four instead of twenty-four. You’re missing out. You should take some risks. Be five minutes late to something instead of an hour early. It’d do you some good.

She was right, but James wasn’t in the mood to admit it. He was exhausted, and he still had a long day ahead of him. Right now, he wanted