Page 2 of A Miracle for the Reserved Flyboy

“STDs,” Krista muttered, mortified, her face burning as she tried to shake off their antics. Finally, she held up a hand to silence them, smiling kindly. “I appreciate your concern for my well-being, but I assure you I’m safe from being run over on Main Street. Besides, I’m heading to my car now to give Cajun a dressing-down…”

“Doc won’t like you strippin’ her man,” Maybury teased, waggling his eyebrows.

“I’m not,” she yelped, flabbergasted at the misunderstanding. “Haven’t you ever heard that statement before?”

“Don’t sound right, do it, Maybury…” Rodney interjected, his eyes dancing with mirth.

“I don’t know, if Miss Krista wants to dress me down…” Maybury began, and she had to swallow back bile at the thought of this man, nearly her father’s age, imagining anything of the sort.

“I’m going,” she declared, shaking her head in exasperation, though the laughter bubbling inside her made it hard to stay annoyed. As she walked away, her heart still fluttering from the earlier display of love, she couldn’t shake the thought that maybe—just maybe—her own story was waiting to unfold right around the corner.

Chapter 2

CASANOVA

“Hey, Cajun,”Gary smiled gently, his voice cutting through the stillness of the tiny landing strip that seemed to materialize from nowhere. He scanned the desolate landscape, feeling the weight of isolation settle on his shoulders. When he first received the invitation to spend Christmas with his friend in Texas, he had envisioned a cheerful escape from the relentless stress and sandstorms of Afghanistan. Now, standing on this ramshackle runway, he couldn’t help but question Cajun’s decision to yank up his roots, leave the Air Force behind, and sacrifice a promising career for…this.

The airstrip felt like a ghost town, a far cry from the sleek aircraft, advanced hangars, and cutting-edge gear he was used to. His heart sank a little as he looked at the aging Cessna he had borrowed upon landing in Tyler, its faded paint and worn exterior a stark contrast to the powerful Falcon he normally flew. Maybe he was being a bit harsh, but this place felt like a relic, a forgotten outpost of the aviation world.

He was glad to finally arrive in Sweet Bloom, because his last stop was unusual. The people in Yonder were …well, they were downright peculiar.

Gary had always been the reserved type, the kind who faded into the background at parties and preferred to let others bask in the spotlight. He was comfortable keeping his mouth shut and his head down, but the crowd around him exuded an energy he wasn’t prepared for. Upon arrival in Tyler, one of the pilots from another squadron—someone he vaguely recognized—had picked him up, chatting politely about the local sights and the upcoming festivities. That was fine; he could handle small talk.

But everything changed when they arrived at the landing strip in Yonder. The scene before him was straight out of a John Carpenter movie, an unsettling combination of the mundane and the bizarre. A row of seven lawn chairs sat ominously along the private runway, and the people occupying them appeared slightly…off. It was a chilling sight, one that sent a shiver down his spine.

“You ready for this?” Caboose asked casually, his cool gaze reminiscent of the quiet resolve Gary had admired overseas. Nobody dared to challenge Caboose; he had a way of commanding respect that bordered on intimidation. The man was a force, and Gary was thankful he wasn’t stuck under his command—especially with the rumors swirling about a new boss taking charge.

Can you imagine?He thought, suppressing a smirk.A tiny little blonde girl running a squadron of seasoned men?He recalled glimpses of her in the hallways, always with a fierce expression that suggested a chip on her shoulder the size of Montana. Yeah, he could definitely use this break. The last thing he wanted was to head home where his family would start in on him about the dreaded ‘why aren’t you married yet’ conversation.

“Ready for what?” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant even as anxiety coiled tightly in his gut.

“The gauntlet,” Caboose said, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

“What gauntlet? Wait, there’s a gauntlet? Like from medieval times?” Gary balked, hesitating as he instinctively locked his car door. “We need to discuss this because I was told to pick up a packet of papers, grab a plane, and then take off. I’m not planning on staying here to run any sort of obstacle course or?—”

“Oh my gosh, seriously?” Caboose interrupted bluntly, halting Gary’s escalating tirade with a bemused expression. “Dude—I mean this in the best way—but CHILL.”

Gary nodded, unsure if he should say anything more as Caboose pointed dramatically.

“That’s the gauntlet—those women.”

Gary’s face paled at the realization.

“You aren’t setting me up with them, are you? I mean, there are a few pretty ones there, but I d-don’t really think that…”

“Okay, you seriously need to relax. Do you have any drugs or something you can take? Breathe, dude. Were you this uptight overseas? Shove a piece of charcoal in ya’, and we’ll have a diamond in two weeks flat. Mercy…”

“I’m chill. I’m relaxed,” he insisted, but even to his own ears, it sounded weak.

“You’re stammering,” Caboose pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

“I do that when I get nervous.”

“So, we’ve got a stutterer and a blabbermouth when they get nervous. I guess I oughta be glad I don’t have one here with loose bowels.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. Anyone ever tell you that you’re a little high-strung?”

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