She exhaled, turned toward the window, and told herself firmly,Ignore him.
*
Well, well, well.
That was an interesting turn of events — even if she’d read the situation all wrong.
Justin dropped into the seat across the aisle, facing her. He’d meant to sit and mind his own business, maybe catch up on some reading, but found himself doing anything but that. Watching her — learning her expressions, those subtle tells people never realized they gave away — had become his new favorite pastime.
The jet began to push away from the parking bay, a low rumble shivering through the floor and up the soles of his shoes. Austin’s voice came over the intercom, smooth and professional, asking everyone to take their seats.
His security team moved past him toward the back. He nodded at them absently, his attention still snagged on the woman across from him. The click and snap of seatbelts punctuated the low hum of the engines as the Bombardier began to move, gathering speed as it taxied toward the runway.
He heard a soft grunt from Miem and glanced her way. The poor woman had a death grip on the armrests, eyes squeezed shut, lips moving in silent prayer. And they weren’t even taking off yet.
He leaned across, touching the back of her hand. “The captain knows what he’s doing.”
She gave a shaky laugh. “Don’t mind me. I’m just abangbroek. I like my feet where God meant them to be … on solid ground.”
“You’re no coward. Especially when you skim the waves with Piet on his catamaran,” Suzette teased.
“That’s different,” Miem shot back, eyes still closed. “If something goes wrong there, I’ve got a lifejacket and can swim to shore. The good Lord didn’t give me wings.”
Justin bit back a smile, enjoying their easy friendship. His reply was cut short when the aircraft turned and he shifted his gaze out the window.
They were at the edge of the runway.
He knew the rhythm by heart — the steady taxi hum, the brief pause, then the clean surge of thrust.
He waited for it, that moment when sound turned to power.
And there it was.
The tone deepened, the aircraft straining forward. That heartbeat between control and release always thrilled him — the deep rumble, the lift, the freedom in it.
He looked across the aisle, and his own excitement faltered, eclipsed utterly by hers.
Suzette’s eyes were wide, her mouth parted in a breathless smile as they climbed. The delight on her face hit him square in the chest.
Most passengers, while not as bad as poor Miem who was mumbling under her breath, tensed through takeoff, waiting for the seatbelt light to blink off.
Not Suzette. She leaned into it. There was something unguarded in her expression — wonder, excitement, pure joy.
The engines roared, but all he heard was her quiet laugh, soft and incredulous, as the earth fell away beneath them.
For a man who’d lived his life by precision, that sound undid him more than the power of flight ever could.
It pleased him more than he expected, seeing her come alive like that.
No pretense, no restraint, just honest delight.
And he realized how muchhewanted to be the reason she felt it again.
To be the one who taught her what it meant to fly.
And that type of flying had nothing to do with aviation.
*
