Claire tries so hard, and I don’t think she’s failed here. In fact, Desiree’s so-called coldness could simply be a figment of Claire’s insecurities. “Nah. It’s totally something Vincent and I would tease her about.”
“Hm.” Her lips pout for a moment before she drops her arm and sits taller. “Let’s talk about you. Why’d you become a pilot? Have you traveled the world with your flight benefits? Where’s your favorite country? What’s your heritage?”
Her abrupt change in topic catches me by surprise. I admittedly feel the warmth of flattery before realizing she’s trying to win me over in the same way she’s attempting to win Desiree. It’s as endearing and ridiculous as her silly sunglasses, and I laugh again.
She shakes her head. “What? I’m being serious.”
“I can’t—” I motion to her face. “I can’t take you seriously in those.”
Her lips finally turn upward. “Is that why you’ve been smirking all through lunch?”
“You tell me.” I slide off my shades and reach for hers. “May I?”
She tugs them off. “If I can wear yours.”
I hesitate. I need my aviators to fly. “Not permanently.”
She swaps, and when she sets my gold metal frames with reflective lenses on her pert little nose, flying becomes the least of my worries. Because while ballerinas who watchForensic Filesand smell like cherry blossoms aren’t quite my type, flight attendants who wear aviators and devour chips and salsa definitely are.
To keep her from noticing the attraction in my eyes, I jam on her silly glasses.
Her hands clasp over her heart, and for a moment I fear I was too late. But then she rocks in silent laughter.
I relax into my iron scrollwork chair. I’d wanted Claire to be happy, and now she is. I just hadn’t expected it to require making a clown outof myself. However, I’d wear these glasses for the rest of the trip to see that smile.
“You look ... you look ...” She’s giggling too hard to complete her sentence.
“He’s looking at you with hearts in his eyes,” Desiree deadpans from beside me.
I hadn’t noticed that she’d returned, but now I know the reason she’s cooled off with Claire. Because she’s not referring to the hearts on the sunglass lenses.
Chapter Nine
Claire
Youwanna fly,yougottogive upthe...[stuff] that weighs youdown.
—UNKNOWN
Since I’m already adorning myself in the Texas state flag (and by “myself,” I mean my first officer), I figure I might as well buy “Come and Take It” flag T-shirts from the Alamo gift shop too. One for me and one for Wyatt.
On our boat tour, I’d learned the “Come and Take It” flag originated during the Texas Revolution in response to a demand from Mexico for Texas to return a borrowed cannon. The Wild West mentality of San Antonio is completely opposite the nerdiness of Silicon Valley, but Wyatt develops software for Canon printers, and the T-shirts have an image of a cannon on it. If the shirt fits ...
I tug a T-shirt over my head. It knocks the aviators crooked, and I have to straighten them. “What do you think?”
Nathan faces me, arms crossed, looking very Secret Service–like except for the ridiculous sunglasses with hearts on the lenses. “I think you should give me back my aviators.”
I laugh at the idea of making him wear the souvenir shades for the rest of our trip. No wonder he couldn’t take me seriously earlier.
“Okay, but let me get a picture of you first.” I loop the handle of myplastic shopping bag around my wrist and pull out my phone from a pocket.
Nathan shifts and starts to drop his arms from his tough-guy stance.
“Wait. Don’t move. It’s hilarious.”
He folds his arms again but shakes his head in mock disapproval.
“What?” I tease. “Don’t you want me to remember the Alamo?” I tap on my camera app, then frame his stoic stance in front of the Alamo’s stone structure. “Those glasses make it even more iconic.”
