“Let’s go,” I tell her.
Her eyes grow wide, and she stands, quickly gathering her things with one hand. “Mom! I might just make it after all! I think I found a lift!”
Hanging up the phone, she grins up at me, her wholebody wiggling like a happy puppy. “Really? You’ll really take me?”
“The cost is eight hundred dollars and the promise that you’ll hurry up and board. I’m serious about that storm. I want to be back here on solid ground in under forty minutes.”
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She throws her arms around my neck and gives me a huge kiss on the cheek. Well, that wasn’t so horrible. For someone who says she hasn’t showered, she sure smells nice—like vanilla shampoo or something. And those curves pressed up against me don’t exactly hurt.
“Sorry!” she says, blushing. “I just can’t believe it! I had lost all hope. My entire family was about to disown me, but now, you’re rescuing me! You’re like a knight in shining armor, only it’s a shiny yellow plane instead of a horse.” She laughs and shakes her head. “That made no sense at all, sorry. I’ll stop talking. We have to go!”
“Yes, we do.”
When we reach my plane, I step onto the pontoon and unlock the baggage door, then lift her enormous suitcase into the hold. I hold out my hand for her garment bag, but she shakes her head.
“I’m going to need to get dressed while we’re in the air, so I can be ready for pictures,” she says. “Makeup too.”
“Suit yourself,” I say, closing the compartment.
I take a few steps along the pontoon to the passenger loading door and give it a yank. It opens to reveal the stairs. Turning back to her I hold out my hand to help her, but she doesn’t move. Instead, she just stands on the dock, her face all scrunched up with concern. “Oh my.”
Raising one eyebrow, I say, “What?”
“It’s just… I wasn’t expecting the door to double as a set of stairs.”
“Is that a problem for you?”
“No,” she says quickly. “That doesn’t seem rickety at all.”
“Hey, Tweety is as solid as they come.”
Her mouth quirks up. “Tweety?”
“Do you want the ride or not?”
“I do. I definitely do.”
I reach out and take the garment bag from her, then offer to help her climb from the dock to the pontoon. She takes my hand and steps onto the pontoon, which dips a little and causes her to grip my hand tightly and let out an awkward laugh. An odd warmth spreads through me, which makes me wonder if I’m coming down with something. She starts up the steps, exchanging my hand for the railing while I try not to glance at her ass. Nuts. I looked. That is one very nice ass. Perky and curvy and just … nice. Yup, she’s trouble. Thank God I’ll be rid of her in twenty minutes.
A minute later, I’ve untied the plane from the dock and I’m getting into the cockpit. High-Maintenance is sitting in the seat next to mine typing away on her phone and I can’t help but read it over her shoulder.On tiny, sketchy plane with a super-sexy but surly pilot about to take off for Azure Island.
Huh. I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended. On the one hand, she thinks I’m sexy. On the other, she’s using the word sketchy to describe my Tweety Bird. Electing to pretend I didn’t see it, I settle myself in the pilot’s seat and start up the engine. A moment later, her phone reads out:Incoming Message from Vivian: Woohoo! You’re going to make it to the wedding! Send pics of hot pilot guy and tell him to get the stick out of his ass.
I glance over at her just in time to see her eyes grow wide, her face turn an even darker shade of orange (with a pinkish hue) and her scrambling to type something into herphone. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s shutting off the function that automatically reads out messages. She finally looks up at me. “Umm, that message wasn’t about you.”
Smirking a little, I say, “Right.”
“No, seriously, it was about … another pilot on my flight from New York.” She stumbles a little on her words as she adds, “He was super grumpy and very good looking...”
“I’m sure he had good reason for being in a bad mood.”
She nods, looking completely uncomfortable. “Probably, but we’ll never know.” She clears her throat. “I’m Paige, by the way. Paige Chadwick.”
“Mac.”
“Mac? As in a Big Mac?”
I give her a cocky shrug. “You’re not the first woman to call me that. Usually they see me naked first.”
