You couldn’t have adopted her anyway, I remind myself.She’s too high energy.Buttercup would stress out Mom. Her health can’t take that.
Grumps’s laziness makes him the perfect companion for my family.
“Hungry?” George asks. He watches me, his gray eyes unreadable. We’ve both slipped off our sunglasses, since the clouds hide the sun. “We can get a bite before flying back.”
My stomach did start grumbling sometime before we set down, and I left the batch of brownies I made for George in my car. I’m not looking forward to two hours of hunger on the return with no dog to distract me. Still, I’m skeptical about the offer.
“Eat where? The vending machines?” I wave to a pathetically sparse one sitting outside the small building. “Didn’t see much else walkable when we were landing.”
George points to a car that looks only slightly less dilapidated than the neglected airplanes.
Turns out, the vehicle is a courtesy car for the airport, and any visiting pilot is allowed to use it to go into town. George claims it’s a common setup at smaller airports as he types a four-digit code into a keypad by the office door. He comes out a moment later with a set of keys.
“How do you know the code?” Does he drop off dogs here a lot?
“It’s usually the emergency frequency,” he explains. “Smaller airports don’t always have a staff member on duty.” He swipes on his phone, then holds it up. “There’s a diner. Fifteen-minute drive.”
“Oooh. A diner.” I affect a fake excited voice and clasp my hands under my chin. “Wonder what that’s like.”
George blinks, then returns to swiping on his phone. “I can find another place.”
“No. I’m kidding. It’s fine.” I wave in front of his phone, so he stops typing. “It’ll be nice to eat in one where I don’t have to do the serving.” Besides, diner food is probably all that’s in my price range.
“You sure?”
“Definitely. Diners have hash browns. Greasy potatoes are all I need to be happy in life.”
He nods, slipping his phone in his back pocket. “Good to know.”
We climb into the old, rusty sedan I would not trust for a long road trip, and I let the man drive me to get food.
Which is not a date.
Chapter
14
When we’re settledacross from each other on the peeling vinyl seats of a booth, the massive menus spread before us, I try to focus on food and not overanalyze this new piece of George Bunsen he’s revealed today.
“Hash browns,” he murmurs. “You’re in luck.”
I snort.
Wait, did he just make a joke?A small, tiny one, but a joke, nonetheless.
Maybe he’s trying different methods of passing the agonizing time he has to spend with me.
Only, we didn’t have to spend this afternoon together. Technically, no flight instruction went on. I was too busy dog wrangling.
So why did he invite me?
Then I realize I answered my own question. No way could George have transported Buttercup solo. She would have been climbing all over him. That would be super dangerous.
“Who usually helps you?” I ask after putting in my order for eggs over easy and three hash browns. “With the dogs, I mean?”
George busies himself arranging our menus in the holder at the end of our booth. “I can do solo trips if the animals are crated.” He laces his fingers and sets them on the table. “Tasha will help if she’s around.”
That name scratches at my memory until I recall why it’s vaguely familiar.
