Page 27 of Flyboy

“How do you know so much about this country?”

“Research.” He shrugged.

But her eyes widened. “Research for this assignment?”

“Sure. It really helps if you understand the people you’re training, you know? I’ve been working on my Portuguese too. It’s paid off.”

“It really has.” Her smile changed for a moment, perhaps a glimpse of real appreciation in there.

They drove through the small, one-street town near Fatima’s house and on to the larger city nearby. “Soldao should have dancing, clubs, and movie theaters. It’s a real city. Maybe after dinner, if things go well . . .” Colton forced his face to stay a mask.If things go well, what did he mean by that? It could be taken so many different ways. He’d said it without thinking.

“Dancing would be great. I haven’t been in ages.”

Ivy seemed more relaxed, natural. Her small smile was still there, but at least she was considering dancing. He got more comfortable in his seat. “Excellent. How are you at the country dances? I hear there’s such a thing as a true gaucho cowboy around here.”

“They’re my favorite. I grew up near Boston, and I used to only go to the clubs on country night or swing.”

“You know how to swing dance?” This night was getting better and better.

“I love it. If you do too, we’re totally going.” She turned in her seat so she was facing him more. “The more I get to know you, I find . . . surprises.”

“Surprises? Good ones or more to dislike about me?”

“Good ones. And for the record, there is nothing I dislike about you as a person. I like everything I’ve seen. You’re fun and engaging, and you make everyone laugh. You’re a great person, always helping everyone. People love that stuff.”

“People? Not you.”

“My comments—that letter.” She looked away and frowned. Then she turned back to him. “None of that is related to the type of person you are . . . or anything. And besides. I’m relooking at my previous thoughts.”

He nodded slowly. “So I still have a chance to convince you?”

“Convince me?”

“That there is more than one way to go about things?”

That small grin grew. And her eyes showed a bit of life. “If you still want to.”

“Oh, I do. Believe me, Tenderfoot. I do.” The air between them felt thick with expectation. It hummed with friction. More than anything, he wanted to throw his arm over there, wrap it around her and slide her over right next to him in the truck. But he couldn’t be so bold. Not yet. If he played things right, there might be a time.

“So, dancing. Dancing is a time to really let that side of me out. You okay with fun as long as people’s lives aren’t at stake?”

“Totally.” She tapped her fingers. “And I’m not certain of my earlier stance that the things you do put people’s lives at risk. I’m rethinking that too.”

“Wow, so much rethinking.” His thumbs tapped against the steering wheel. “Should we see what kind of music they play in Brazil?”

“Sure. Okay. I’m not even going to be surprised if you start singing along.”

They drove the rest of the way, laughing about the different tunes, the soccer kids, and they even talked work for a few minutes, analyzing the different pilots and their needs. She had excellent insight and suggestions about what they might need to work on in the air with him. By the time they arrived at Folgao, she was laughing through her tears, and he was itching to reach over and take her hand.

When he parked, he winked. “You sit tight, because I’m coming around to get your door.”

Then he hopped out, feeling like he was on a really great first date.

She climbed down, stepping right in front of him, in the intimate space people usually reserved for those they wanted to get closer to. He grinned down into her face. “And now we are going to have the best meat this world has to offer.”

She laughed. “Good thing I like meat.”

“If you want, they also have the best salad bar Brazil has to offer. I hardly touch that stuff; it doesn’t leave room for the meat.”

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