07/29/2025
THE RIPPED MAN IN THE COWBOY HAT WOULDN’T STOP STARING AT ME ON THE PLANE
I noticed him the second I boarded.
The cowboy hat was impossible to miss. Wide brim, slightly tilted forward, casting a shadow over his sharp, rugged features. And then there was his body—lean, broad shoulders, chest practically bursting through his snug T-shirt. You don’t see men like that on commercial flights. Not in economy, anyway.
I tried not to stare, but every time I glanced his way, he was already looking at me. Not in a creepy way—more like... studying me. Like he knew something I didn’t.
As the plane leveled out, I pulled out my book, pretending to read. My heart was pounding for reasons I couldn’t explain.
That’s when the flight attendant approached him.
“Another bourbon, Mr. Maddox?” she asked softly.
He nodded without breaking eye contact with me. Maddox. I repeated the name in my head. It sounded dangerous.
I kept asking myself: Do I know him? But I was sure I didn’t.
Then, halfway through the flight, turbulence hit. The plane jolted hard. My stomach lurched, and instinctively, I gripped the armrest.
Suddenly, he was standing next to me. "You okay, ma'am?" His voice was deep, calm, almost intimate.
I swallowed. "I—yeah. Just not great with flying."
He smiled slightly, like he found my fear... endearing? Or useful? I couldn’t tell.
Then he leaned in, voice low. "You shouldn't be nervous about the turbulence."
I blinked. "Why not?"
He glanced around, lowering his voice even more.
Because that's not what you should be worried about.
My breath caught. What did that mean?
Before I could respond, he slipped back into his seat, crossing his arms, never once breaking eye contact.