Page 7 of Fly Boy
“This bit must be boring, though, huh? All the waiting around for the boss to show up. Don’t they know we’re busy men?”
Frowning, I say, “You don’t need to be here, Colin. You have all the paperwork signed and ready to go.”
He makes a humming sound before leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “I’d rather wait for your passenger to arrive.” Holding his hand up for shade, he squints at the terminal, the afternoon sun a blinding orange as it slowly sets in the distance. “Oh, speak of the devil.”
I follow his eyeline, finding Phillipa walking across the asphalt of the small section used for private jets. Long brown hair flows behind her, gently moving in the breeze. Large sunglasses hide the gray irises I’ve been seeing in my sleep for nearly four months. They don’t stop her face from scrunching up at the glare that shines off the Phenom 300, fueled and ready behind me.
Colin releases a low whistle. “Damn, she is one fine piece of ass, isn’t she?” My head snaps toward him, a knot forming in my stomach as he continues to speak. “It’s all that skating, isn’t it? Makes her nice and tight.” He lewdly licks his lips and taps the clipboard to my stomach. “Anyway, see you next time, Wyatt. Safe flight.”
I grunt out a response, my eyes burning a hole in the back of his head as he passes Phillipa, twisting last second and grinning salaciously before giving me a thumbs up, coupled with a nod that is far too crass for a man who’s meant to be working.
“Wyatt, is something wrong?”
Dragging my gaze away from Colin’s retreating back, I notice Phillipa staring at my hands. I look down at my fingers, at the white-knuckled fists they’re in, and slowly unclench them as they begin to tingle. “No, nothing’s wrong, Miss Cartwright.”
“You sure? Everything’s okay with the plane?” Her shoulders tense, even under the weight of the two equipment bags slung over them.
“Of course,” I confirm, and she visibly relaxes. “No issues.”
“But you’re scowling.” She tilts her head, her lips twitching when I force my face to relax.
“Apologies.”
Her smile breaks free, and she shifts one of her bag straps up her arm. “There. That’s better. Keep frowning like that, and you’ll get more wrinkles.” I want to furrow my eyebrows again, unamused, but think better of it as she removes her sunglasses, biting her lower lip. “On second thought, I think those lines look sexy on older men.”
I stare blankly at her, and she grins, seemingly amused that I always manage to keep my outward appearance impassive. Because this is our thing. A song I didn’t know the tune to, a dance I didn’t know we’d started. Only over the last four months has it progressed when it’s just us two. The pilot and the passenger. Taunting and teasing. Toeing the line but never crossing it.
Little does she know that internally, words that shouldn’t excite me create havoc inside my head. It’s superficial, surface-level bullshit that will never go past my physical attraction to her.
It can’t. I won’t let it.
She flicks her hair and blasély steps past me toward the aircraft steps. My fingers touch my forehead; the soft lines that fill my skin are something I’ve never thought of until now. I repeat the action a couple more times, the ripples and dips odd to touch, before quickly smoothing them away, realizing I probably look ridiculous.
I stride forward, reaching the bottom stair before Phillipa, and hold out my hand. “Here, let me help you with your bags.”
“It’s fine, I’ve got it,” she says, brushing me off as she starts to climb. Something sweet fills the air, the smell of her shampoo, I assume, as the wind picks up the long strands, sending them flying around her shoulders. I step back quickly, taking a deep breath and replacing it with the distinct scent of aviation fuel.
“No co-pilot today?” Her voice gets quieter as she disappears into the plane.
“Not today, Miss Cartwright,” I call, following her up the stairs, ducking when I reach the doorway. “The Phenom can be operated as a single-pilot plane, so Liam isn’t needed when using this craft.”
“I know, I’m just teasing,” she says lightly.
Surprise almost has me knocking my head against the metal frame. “You knew this plane could be operated by a single crew?”
“I know a lot of things.” She winks. I don’t engage, even though I want to expand on this, but before I can even say anything, she continues. “I also know that while this plane has the capacity to be flown with two pilots, you choose not to. Does someone not know how to share?” Running her hand along the smooth leather of the seats, her dainty fingers follow every line and crease as she walks farther into the cabin toward her chair. “Who knew you’d be so possessive over something you think is yours.” She looks back with a smirk, eyes dancing, and I avert my gaze.
Letting her luggage fall to the floor, she reaches up and opens the overhead locker before grabbing one of the oversized equipment bags and trying to stuff it inside. She lets out a grunt as she struggles, shifting onto her tiptoes and extending her arms straight above her. Creamy-tanned skin catches my attention, the bottom of her shirt riding up to expose her lower back. I know I’m staring, but the definition of her muscles and the smoothness of her skin that peeks out from above the waistband of her leggings are captivating.
Guilt seeps into my subconscious as she lowers herself back down, fixing her clothing with a huff, and I realize I’ve done nothing to help her. The bag hangs precariously out of the small space, yet I still don’t move. All I can do is shove my hands into my pockets and pinch the skin on my thigh through the thin material. The short bite of pain is enough to get my head in gear and I clench my jaw, not that she’s paying attention to me, her focus too busy on another fruitless attempt to get her bag to fit before she gives up.
“Question,” she says, tugging it back out and blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes. I fight the urge to smile. Not many people would announce they have a question before they ask it. “If Liamdidtake this plane out by himself, what would you do?”
“Duct-tape him to the wing and hope it stays,” I deadpan. Then I walk forward and take the heaviest bag from her grasp, slotting it easily inside the compartment before closing the door.
Her eyes widen, mouth falls open, and then she barks a laugh. “You have a dark sense of humor. I like that.”
Turning away from her, I make my way to the cockpit. She was right to assume I don’t like to share because if Liam, my new co-pilot, everdidtouch my baby—it would be his first and last time. I might not be into cars that it’s borderline creepy like my little brother, Teddy, or obsessed with capturing people’s beauty with a camera like Bowie, but this amazing piece of engineering right here is mine. And there is nothing like the feeling I get when I step inside this jet. From the rich mahogany wood finishes, complementing the light gray upholstery, to the speckled floor gleaming in the LED lights lining the top of the cabin—the craftsmanship is second to none.
