Page 2 of Miles & Mistletoe

He quickly held up his hand, cutting me off, not even turning in my direction. “I said wake him up. I’m not on this flight for no damn reason. He failed to show up, the least he can do is answer my damn calls!” the man charged.

I clasped my right wrist with my left hand in front of my body, sighing silently to myself. This wasn’t the first time I’d had rude and demanding passengers. In this line of work, they were a dime a dozen.

“Fine. But as soon as I fucking land, I need an answer.” And with that, he pulled the phone from his ear and hit, what I imagined to be the end call button, to end communication with whatever poor soul was on the other end of the line.

When he stood to his full height with his back to me, I could see he was tall. At least six-foot-three inches, placing him about six inches taller than my five-foot-six inches with my three inch black pumps.

“Now …” He turned in my direction.

My stomach did some kind of funny somersault. Must’ve been all of the pumpkin spice lattes I’d been drinking over the past few weeks. I loved those things. Shaking off the silliness of my thoughts, I blinked and took in what I instinctively knew was Ian Zerlinger. He was not only tall but good looking. Extremely good looking. With his perfectly shaped bald head, dark, thick eyebrows, and the equally dark, trimmed beard and full pink lips. His beauty wasn’t even detracted by the eyepatch over his left eye or the deep frown lining his mouth.

“You were saying.”

Another shiver.

I cleared my throat and pasted my professional smile on my face. “Welcome to On the Go Airlines, Mr. Zerlinger. My name is Stacia and I will be y—”

“My flight attendant. I’m aware. The rest of the passengers should be along soon. Until then …” He waved me off as if I was no more than a nuisance before taking his seat.

My face tightened as I stared at the back of his bald head. He was already on the phone making another phone call. Usually, we didn’t even allow passengers on the plane so early before take off but I guess the likes of Ian Zerlinger didn’t play by the rules.

“Please let me know if you need anything,” I stated in the most courteous and professional tone I had. I moved passed his seat and toward the front of the plane to speak with the pilot.

After speaking with the pilot about our flight plan and expected time of arrival, I glanced back at Mr. Zerlinger. His brows were furrowed as he stared down into his phone screen. Just before I decided to turn away, his head popped up and he looked directly at me. His eye narrowed a tiny bit and his frown deepened. I simply returned a smile.

“Did you need something, Mr. Zerlinger?”

He shook his head and waved me off.

Asshole.

I thought before turning to the opened door of the plane and noticing a number of men in suits approaching. This was the rest of the Zerlinger party. I greeted each of the three men and one woman as they boarded and took their seats. While most of them seemed rushed, none of them appeared to be as short tempered as Ian.

Let’s get this over with, I thought to myself as I closed the plane’s door and then adjusted the loose hanging curls I’d styled my hair in for the day. I couldn’t wait for the next five hours or so to fly by. I had made plans to volunteer in one of the homeless shelters in Los Angeles since I would be in the city for the night and it was Thanksgiving. It was one of the ways I tended to spend my holidays when I was working, and especially since being home with my family wasn’t an option.

I got the okay from the pilot that we were to begin taxiing down the runway shortly. That was when I proceeded down the aisle toward the group now seated around two of the tables.

“Ian, you know it’s going to take a lot to get him on the phone today—”

“Jamie, you already know my stance on excuses,” Mr. Zerlinger stated, abruptly cutting off the brunette, the only woman in the group of five on this flight.

“I’m aware,” she affirmed.

“Excuse me,” I interjected in my most professional of tones. “I’ve been alerted by our pilot that we will begin taxiing soon. If you all could please fasten your seatbelt. My name is—”

“We know.” Ian Zerlinger raised his hand in the air, cutting me off this time. I sighed internally, but my smile held firm.

Straightening my stance, I simply looked around at all of the passengers as they fastened their seatbelts. Of course, Zerlinger took his precious time. However, once he did I made my way to the back of the plane to take my seat for takeoff.

While most of the flight was uneventful, I was elated once we landed. Especially since I wouldn’t be working whichever flight Ian and his crew took back. I was already scheduled for another chartered flight from Los Angeles to Seattle the next morning. I can’t say I was upset at the fact that I wouldn’t have to see Ian Zerlinger again.

Good riddance.

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