Each time he speaks up, I breathe, focus on what he’s said, and push out a reply. “Is flying over the mountains difficult?”
“There’s usually turbulence. You’ll want to understand weather conditions. And your airplane needs to be able to climb high enough to clear the peaks. A 172 can manage in this range.”
“And you thinkI’mready for that?”
His shaded eyes turn toward me. “You can handle it.”
Those words from George’s mouth, even in the tinny radio tone, take my mind to a dirty place. Like a bedroom, where instead of beside each other, he’s over top of me, packing some gear that is comparable to the size of his body. A size that I’m not sure I can take. But then imaginary George leans down, lips against my ear, and says,“You can handle it.”
Damn it, adrenaline crush! Back thehelloff!
To take my mind off the naughty thoughts and potential panic, I force myself to remember that he’s my flight instructor, and I start taking the initiative to ask him more questions.
He answers every single one. And not with curt remarks that reveal how frustrating it must be to deal with my novice knowledge of aviation. He’s thorough, often explaining more than I even thought to ask.
George feels like a true instructor.
And I’m trying my best not to be hot for teacher.
Chapter
12
“You think he’llshow?” Billy asks as he slides a grilled cheese through the pass into my waiting hands.
“Who?” I rack my brain for the day of the week so I can figure out what regular he’s referring to. Pedro comes to the diner on Mondays and Wednesdays after his physical therapy. On Friday, Saturday, and Sunday evenings, Percival and Johnny claim counter seats, where they snipe at each other about the Ravens and the Steelers.
But those guys are like clockwork. Why wouldn’t they show? Honestly, they’re the best help at keeping my days straight. Work has time blending together until a whole month could go by without me realizing.
“The hot pilot. Bunsen.” Billy points toward a booth by the window where Riann waits for her grilled cheese. “She’s all excited for her interview. He’s not gonna stand her up, right?”
“That’s happening today?” As I hold her food, I realize now that Riann has her voice recorder set up, and she’s sitting poised in her seat,as if waiting, rather than surrounded by scattered books and homework, like usual.
“Yeah. She’s trying to pretend like she’s not excited, but I think it’s a big deal to her.” Billy’s eyes harden. “So, Bunsen. Do you think he’ll show?”
My mind slips to the moment when the plane was going down, how the man took a precious second to apologize to me. Then when we were on the ground, how he checked in to see if I was okay. And he did that all for a woman he doesn’t like.
That guy is serious about his responsibilities if nothing else.
“He will,” I say with confidence. “He’ll show up.”
Please let him show up.
Ten minutes later the front door bell rings, and I swear I hear Riann let out a squeak.
There, in nice-fitting jeans, a long-sleeved thermal, and a well-worn baseball cap stands George Bunsen. His eyes scan the diner until they find mine. He gives me a short nod, then turns his attention to Riann.
“Thank you for meeting me for this interview,” she says, standing up as she talks in an overly formal tone I’ve never heard from her before. “Can I get you anything?” She waves toward me, and I bite my lip against a snort.
Guess little Riann is growing up.
George tilts his head my way. “Just a coffee. Thank you.”
“Coming right up.” I wear my waitress persona, playing my part so I don’t mess up Riann’s professional reporter moment.
George settles on the bench seat across from Riann, and after filling him a mug from a fresh pot, I leave the two of them to talk, retreating behind the counter to where I spy Billy peering out from his kitchen hideaway.
“Guess you were right,” he offers.
