Alice and Vera converged next, wrapping their arms around both Mattie and Carrie. The twins followed, jumping onto the pile. Lily giggled vivaciously while Sadie shouted a few whoops that put evensome of Mattie’s to shame. Aida reached them last, her notebook hanging half out of her tooled-leather purse and thumping against her thigh while she ran toward them.
“This is definitely going into my book!” Aida practically leaped onto the heap that they’d formed. “Maybe a whole chapter.”
“That was marvelous, darling. It was even more than I could have dreamed up, and I’ve been staging spectacles since before I left my bassinet.” Vera wormed her way into the center of the group and squeezed Mattie like a boa constrictor.
“You must teach me to fly like that.” Sadie slung her arm around Mattie’s shoulders before her bubbly twin jostled her out of position.
“Did you see the men capture your kisses from the air?” Lily grabbed both of Mattie’s arms. “They practically worship you now. You’re like a movie star! Clara Bow better watch out, or you’ll be stealing her spotlight. You’re going to be an American sweetheart! I just feel it.”
But Mattie didn’t want to be America’s sweetheart. She wanted to be America’s aviator.
Then her friends parted, and Mattie found herself face to face with Leo.
He stood, as always, with his legs slightly braced. He still held his helmet and goggles in his hand, the gear hanging limply against his side. His hair stood up in clumps, and he’d clearly made no move to smooth it down despite the hundreds of eyes staring at them. His blue eyes latched on to Mattie’s and held. Neither of them spoke for a moment. The hubbub around them seemed to fade away into a distant, almost pleasant hum.
Yet the energy swirling through Mattie didn’t recede. It spiked.
She had no idea how eyes so blue could look so molten. But they did. For one mad moment, she didn’t know if he was going to shout at her... or stride over, gently grab the back of her head, and dip her into a passionate kiss.
Instead Leo did neither. He just stayed where he was. The only thing that changed was his breathing. He’d unzipped his flight jacket, and the knit fabric of his jersey pulled tight across his muscular body. She could see his chest rise and fall, getting deeper and faster with each intake and exhale.
Now Mattie wondered ifshewould be the one to dash to him. She could toss her arms around his neck and tilt her chin up a few scant inches until their mouths met.
The thought made her own breathing tempo double.
“That...,” Leo began and then trailed off. His gaze shifted away from hers and suddenly stopped. Mattie followed the tilt of his chin and found he was glancing over at Alice’s husband. When Leo faced her again, his jaw seemed a little looser, his shoulders a little less bunched, and his mouth definitely a little more relaxed.
“That—that was some impressive flying.” He spoke the words carefully, making sure no one was listening to them.
She steeled herself for the inevitable argument.
“If... if you plan on slipping through another narrow spot like that, we should do more measurements beforehand.”
Mattie blinked. Hard. Was he actually offering tohelpher?
“You’re not going to argue with me again?”
A small half smile touched Leo’s lips. “Would it make any difference?”
“No.”
“I—I was thinking if you’re dead set on this, then maybe you could let me help you work through your stunts beforehand like a team.”
Mattie cocked her head and gave him a hard stare. “Why the change of heart? You were dead set against this.”
“Something John said to me,” Leo admitted.
Another wave of shock rippled through Mattie, but before she could probe further, a gravelly voice shouted loudly from the crowd, “Hey, fly girl! What’s your name?”
Mattie turned toward the speaker and found a man standing a few steps in front of the rest of the audience, his fountain pen poised over a steno pad, his fedora tilted back from his eyes. He gave her a grin—a grin she’d seen Leo receive a hundred times, a thousand times. It was the smile of a reporter trying to put his subject at ease. But Mattie didn’t need any cajoling.
“It’s Mattie,” she said firmly, walking in his direction with her heart thumping. “Mattie McAdams.”
“Can you put your helmet back on and stand by your machine?” a man with a tripod and a camera asked. He had the look of a newspaperman too.
Mattie lost no time in complying. Pulling the leather over her hair, she left the goggles situated on top of her head. Unable to stop her beam, she sidled up to her Jenny, her eyes trained on the line of reporters. Flash powder sizzled and popped while camera clicks filled the hot air like the buzz of cicadas in the autumn.
For the first time, the large photographic lenses were trained on her. Not Leo. Not one of her brothers. Not her father. Buther. Mattie McAdams.
