I glare at Landen as he chuckles but does as Bronson requested and places two small pain killers into the palm of my hand.
Wine.
Who the hell invited wine anyway?
“I hoped you’ve learned your lesson Miss Myers, drinking needs to be within a controlled environment.” Bronson smirks. He’s been that way all morning and now that we are on the plane, his jokes and sense of humor have made an unfamiliar appearance.
What the hell did I say to the man last night? And why is he acting so nice to me?