Page 2 of Come Fly with Me

I let out a long exhale of breath because as much as I want to go on, I can’t. We’re late, and my rant is going to get me nowhere with this green-eyed charmer.

He blows out a breath before saying, “Yeah, I get that. Girls in the industry aren’t really a big thing, but you made it, so it does happen.” He shrugs casually, which only adds to my annoyance. Why am I not surprised that he missed my point entirely?

“You’ve never been sexually harassed at work, and it shows.” I roll my eyes, letting out another bothered sigh. I swear, the men in this industry are just so damn clueless.

He lets out a throaty laugh, and there’s something endearing and sexy about it, but I let it roll away. I don’t need this.

“I’m happy to show off my flirting skills, but I’d never cross over into harassment. No dick pics involved.” Again, he laughs and adds, “Well, only if you ask for them.”

He shoots me a perfectly straight-teethed, panty-dropping smile, and I imagine in the past this would have made me pull him into a bathroom for a quick fuck.

But not anymore.

I walk into the lounge, grab my flight bag and hat, and start to head toward our gate. We still have our exterior and interior checks to do, and I like to introduce myself to any new staff that will be working on my plane.

This guy is screwing up my plan.

“I’ll swing by and pick up our flight release,” he calls after me, his voice all but disappearing as I hit the crowded airport. My heels click loudly on the floor, drowning out his annoying yet somewhat sexy voice.

“You do that, First Officer.”

“Of course, Captain,” he shouts back above the din of the crowds and conversation.

Last fucking word.

I’m onboard chatting with one of the flight attendants when First Officer Smartass strolls up, two coffees in a cardboard carrier, a brown paper bag and the flight plan tucked under his arm.

His presence changes the entire demeanor of the small space, filling it with sexual tension and annoyance. The annoyance radiating from me, and the sexual tension from Ali, a sweet young flight attendant with blond hair and a cute little butt.

“Hey, you,” he says. And just as I’m about to correct him, I realize he isn’t talking to me. He gives Ali a wink, and a smile and her skin flushes bright pink.

Fuck me. I remember when a wink could elicit that response from my body and what it felt like to be wrapped up in this world of hooking up and one-night stands.

“You up for a night out, Hunter?” Ali asks, her hip jutting out a little, a playful smile on her face. And for some reason, a surge of jealousy courses through my bloodstream, making me suddenly warm and wanting to tell her to back off.

This is so not like me, and I chalk it up to all the changes that have happened in the past few weeks. I swallow hard and remember what it was like to be young and cute, this job being a non-stop party. She needs this time to find herself. Him, on the other hand, he’s a little younger than me and is obviously going to be one of those guys that just never settles down.

“Depends on what you’re up to,” he purrs back. And that feeling of jealousy is gone and replaced by nausea. His response is so typical, and it makes me want to puke.

Ali giggles but doesn’t have the opportunity to respond as another flight attendant calls his name.

“Hunter,” she calls from the middle of the plane, her hand waving at him, a smile plastered across her face. She squeezes between Ali and him, slipping her arms around his neck and embracing him as if they’re old friends. I imagine he has a lot of female “friends”.

“Hey, you, good to see you,” he says, and I watch Ali’s face fall. He has no idea what these women’s names are, giving a generic “hey you” greeting each time.

“Got called in today, huh?” she asks. Her name is Brigid, spelled oddly, something I remember from meeting her a few weeks back when I was moved to this line.

“Nope. I was moved to this line yesterday. I’m off reserve,” he states, and she gives him another hug.

I watch his face and for the first time since meeting him, I see something genuine in his eyes, and I could swear it’s pride. Pride in the fact that he’s finally found a place for himself. Now if he could only keep his dick in his pants, things would be a lot better.

After our final checks have been completed, the door is closed, and I’ve settled myself into the cockpit, I turn to my first officer who I now know is named Hunter, and ask if he’s ready.

“Things all set on your end, Hunter?”

He laughs, and again it’s that deep, throaty, sexy laugh that almost makes me forgive him for being an ass.

“That’s not my name.” He points to the tag on his uniform, his finger tapping over the spot where it’s pinned.

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