Page 7 of Shared By the Pilots

I didn’t relax until I heard his motorbike rumble away into the distance.

5

Luke

The warm Miami sun cast a golden hue over the outdoor terrace of the seaside restaurant. A gentle breeze rustled the crisp white tablecloths, and the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore provided a soothing backdrop while I nursed my drink. The azure waters sparkled under the relentless Florida sun, creating a dazzling display of diamonds on the water’s surface.

At one of the elegant wrought-iron tables, a woman sat, completely immersed by the ocean view. Dressed in casual yet stylish attire, she leaned back in a comfortable wicker chair, her eyes fixed on the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean stretching out before her. She wore an expression of peaceful contemplation, eyes half-lidded, as if lost in a memory. She occasionally took a leisurely sip from a glass of chilled white wine, savoring the crisp taste like she had all the time in the world.

Normally, I would have offered to buy the woman a drink. I had traded my pilot’s uniform for more comfortable clothes, but I had enough confidence without it that I did fine with members of the finer sex. And when theydidlearn I was a pilot? Well, it almost wasn’t fair. Life as a bachelor was good.

But something stopped me tonight. The woman was beautiful, her ring finger was bare, and she was nursing her drink with the kind of patience that made me suspect she wanted someone to come up and buy her another. I had nothing but green lights. Yet something stopped me. My heart wasn’t in it.

Am I getting bored of the game?

I picked up the seafood menu and gave it a long examination. I already knew what I was getting—the shrimp platter—but I skimmed the page anyway because it gave me something to do other than wonder about the woman at the other table.

And then I realized what it was. Veronica.

I’d been on plenty of flights with the gorgeous brunette. She had a reputation for being picky with who she dated; no coworkers, and especially no pilots. Her adherence to those rules had even caused some to speculate that she didn’t care for men at all.

Some pilots saw that as a challenge. Me, I respected it. Until today. Something about the woman’s demeanor on our flight from Houston made me ask her out. And of course, she had declined.

I didn’t like it when women felt pressured to say yes. There was an inherent power imbalance when a pilot asked out a member of the crew. I wasn’t technically her superior, but pilots carried a lot more weight in the airline industry. It could get messy.

But hell, how else were two single people supposed to meet in this world other than at work? Dating apps? Hard pass.

Regardless, Veronica was now stuck in my head even more than Cuban shrimp.

“Excuse me.”

I blinked and the woman from the other table was twisted around in her seat, staring at me. “Yes?”

“Weren’t you the pilot of my flight?” she asked. “From Houston?”

My winning smile fell into place automatically. “I probably was.”

“Small world.” She let out a playful giggle. “I feel like I should buy you a drink. For getting me here safely.”

“That’s awfully nice, but I’m just having the one drink.” I raised my glass. “Got a return flight in the morning. You have a nice evening.”

A look of annoyance flashed across her eyes, and then she put some cash down on the table and left the restaurant. I stared out at the ocean; the sun had set, and twilight was descending on the water.

“You look pathetic sitting there, all alone.”

I turned to see none other than Veronica standing next to my table, a wry smile touching her full lips. She had changed into baggy pants and a nice tank top that accentuated the curves of her upper body even better than the Gulf Airlines uniform I typically saw her in, and her hair flowed down her back like a waterfall as dark as the night.

“Nothing pathetic about eating by yourself,” I replied with a smile. “I’m perfectly comfortable alone with my thoughts. I suspect few people would say the same.”

She took the seat at my table and cocked her head thoughtfully, like the comment resonated with her.

“Of course,” I added, “I always prefer good company. I’m glad you changed your mind.”

“When I Googled seafood places, this restaurant popped up at the top of every list,” she explained.

“And the line to get in is over an hour long,” I added. “Which is why I made a reservation two weeks ago.”

“That may or may not have factored into my decision to sit with you,” she admitted.

---