Tasha Baylor, third of the BnB offspring. I don’t know much about the woman other than she’s around the same age as my brother and George, and she’s an only child like George. Like my father wishes Shawn was.
“What about Shawn?” I ask to get my thoughts away from my toxic parent. “He likes dogs.”
“Doesn’t like flying.”
“What?”How did I not know this?“But he’s always going to the airport. Flying to meetings and all that.”
George nods. “He does better in the jets. Can close the window shade.” The corner of his lips twitches. “He has plane clothes.”
“What does that even mean?”
George huffs something like a laugh. “Basically gym clothes. He changes into them before takeoff. Then changes back into his suit after landing.”
“Why?”
“Says he stress sweats. Otherwise, he needs to wash off so he doesn’t smell in his meetings.”
I gape at the man across the table from me and ponder how Shawn and I could be so far from each other on this. I mean,Iwas the one who dealt with an emergency landing.
As if reading the thought in my mind, George says, “He flipped out when he found out about the engine failure.”
I can imagine. “Well, you got us safely back on the ground. No harm, no foul.”
George frowns, but our food arriving cuts off whatever response he was going to make. Or maybe he wasn’t going to say anything.
“Howdidyou stay so calm that day?” I ask. “I don’t know that I could do that. Even if I manage to get my license.”
“You’ll get your license,” he says as if it’s a foregone conclusion.
A spark of confidence lights in my chest.
“Okay.WhenI get my license. I still don’t know how not to freak out if the whole plane fails on me.”
George keeps his eyes on his food, taking bites of his Reuben. Must be his diner go-to. I want to ask how it compares to Cornfield’s, but if he says this one is better, I’ll have to murder him, and then it’ll take me forever to get home without a ride.
“What happened is rare. I doubt you’ll go through it again. But if you do…” His gray gaze raises to hold mine, and I’m caught in the granite stare. “You’re smart. You’d figure it out.”
Oh. Wow. That almost sounded like a compliment. Like, a really good one.
I can’t stop my cheek muscles from dragging the corners of my mouth into a smile. “That was your first time?”
George is in the middle of taking a sip of his drink, so I get to watch his eyes go wide at the possible double meaning and his face flush red as he tries to cough out the water he just inhaled.
“I wasn’t trying to make the question dirty,” I taunt him. “Honestly, this is a reflection on you more than it is on me.”
He scowls, still clearing his throat. I pass him some napkins as a peace offering.
“That was your first timemaking an emergency landing?” I clarify my question.
George nods, then takes a large bite of his Reuben and frownsdown at his plate as he chews. Maybe in an attempt to end the conversation. Or to punish me with silence for making him choke.
But I stand by the statement that it wasn’t my fault.
As I dip the last chunk of hash brown into ketchup and pop the crisp, salty goodness into my mouth, I study the pilot.
The hot pilot.
Using a mental hand, I swat away that moniker, silently cursing Riann for coming up with such an accurate descriptor.
