Page 1 of Shared By the Pilots

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Veronica

“I hope the new member of our crew isn’t a total jerk,” Dex said while we stood outside of Gate 35 at George Bush Intercontinental Airport. “If it’s another Angela type, I might open the door at thirty-five thousand feet.”

I laughed, but glanced around. “Don’t say that too loud. Flight crew aren’t supposed to make jokes like that.”

Dexter—affectionately known asDexto me and the other members of the crew—gave me a level stare. “Who’s joking? Do you not remember the way she picked her nails?”

“Don’t remind me.” I shivered, then instinctively smoothed out my Gulf Airlines uniform.

Dex suddenly gave a start and looked around the ground. “Where’s your carry-on?”

“I checked a bag this trip,” I replied. “There’s a Miami distillery that sells a specialty bottle of Mezcal, and I want to bring a dozen bottles home with me.”

“Angela used to go on and on about the Mezcal in Mexico City,” Dex said. “I swear she told me that story about her one-night stand with the head distiller a hundred times.”

“The one she claimed looked like Pierce Brosnan? I think I heard that storytwohundred times.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to think about Angela. How was your date last night with Mr. First Class?”

Dex grinned. “Oh, you mean the hunk in 2D? Well, let’s just say our two Ds…”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” I said with a laugh. “All you had to say was it went well.”

“It wentverywell last night.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “And again this morning. I don’t even care if he’s an executive for an evil oil company. He can call me for a gooddrillinganytime.”

I covered my mouth to keep from laughing like a hyena around the passengers who were waiting for their flight. One teenage boy with a pair of headphones around his neck kept glancing up at me like he was listening in on our conversation.

“I’m happy for you,” I said. “It’s been a long time since I went on a date that I could callgreat.”

“That’s because you’re too picky,” Dex said without hesitation.

I scowled at him. “I’m not too picky!”

“Honey. Do I need to show you the receipts? Because I brought the receipts.”

“You’re exaggerating,” I replied.

Dex began counting off names on his fingers. “Bryce, the investment adviser.”

“He was too arrogant. Like he was God’s gift to women just because he earns six figures.”

Dex ticked another finger. “Angelo from the bar.”

“His name reminded me of Angela, who was on our crew at the time. And he wore socks with sandals. Pass.”

“What about Captain Markson?”

“You know I don’t date pilots,” I replied. “Plus, he had a stupid chin.”

“Stupid chin?” Dex let his hand fall back to his side. “Do you hear yourself, Veronica?”

“Okay, maybe I’mselectiveabout the men I date,” I admitted. “But that’s because life is too short to settle for someone who isn’t perfect. I don’t want a fling—I want to find my soulmate. I’m holding out for that man.”

“Life is too short,” Dex argued, “to hold out for someone with zero flaws! Nobody is perfect, honey. Real romance is all about falling in love with the real person beneath their stupid chin.”

“And I suppose you’re an expert in this?” I replied. Dex was in his mid-thirties too and still hadn’t settled down.

“I have done a lot of research on the subject,” he said curtly.

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