Mattie lifted her eyes toward the heavens. He followed her gaze as she tracked the swallows flitting in the bright afternoon light, dark shadows against the endless blue spring sky. He’d been watching her gather patience with her brothers like this for years. More and more, she’d begun employing it with him.
When she leveled a look in his direction, her remarkable hazel eyes had turned more green than brown, a clear sign that something had upset her. He could detect anger, but it was the hurt that sliced him.
“You’re not going to be happy, Leo, until I give up flying altogether, are you?”
The softly spoken words, unlike her normally bold statements, caused his throat to swell closed. He shook his head.
“Not that,” he managed to force out.Never that.He didn’t wish to take soaring away from Mattie. She loved it too much. At night, when he had trouble sleeping, he’d think of her laughter as she sat in the cockpit and he in the passenger seat. Somehow the sound perfectly echoed the sensation he used to get when flying—light, buoyant, and utterly thrilling.
And Mattie wasgood, maybe even better than him...hell, probably better than him. Definitely better than any man he’d seen, Allied or German. No, he didn’t want to curtail her flying.
“I don’t want you risking your life just to chase a thrill or to impress a bunch of spectators,” Leo said.
Mattie stomped toward him, jabbing her finger in the direction of his chest. “It is my life to lose, Leo Ward. They’re my risks to take, not yours. I am tired of you, of my brothers, of my father, of anymandeciding what’s best for me. You judge for yourself what stunts to try, and so do Jake, Otto, and Will. It should be my decision, andmydecision alone, how I fly.”
Enthusiastic clapping echoed through the air. Leo spun to discover a vaguely familiar woman lounging against Mattie’s plane. At her feet stood a small floppy-eared dog wearing a ridiculous red scarf that matched the woman’s. Although Leo understood little about fashion, even he could recognize that the interloper’s attire wasn’t typical.
The woman, however, ignored him, her gaze entirely on Mattie as she continued her applause. “I couldn’t have said it better myself, darling.”
Dropping her hands to her sides, the stranger sauntered across the runway with the air of a monarch. Beside her, the little spaniel trotted jauntily, its white fan-shaped tail wagging enthusiastically.
“I’m Vera Jones,” the woman announced, extending her hand to Mattie. The name caused a flicker of recognition to spark to life in Leo’s mind. An heiress, the avant-garde flapper dominated the gossip columns. He never read the society pages, but even he’d spotted photographs of her.
“Mattie McAdams.” As she took Vera’s hand, the dog plopped down politely beside the two women. Its tail thumped insistently on the ground, its dark-brown eyes huge as it stared longingly up at Mattie. Leo could empathize.
Mattie made anawwsound as she bent and rubbed the spaniel’s ears. The animal emitted a small happy sigh as it leaned into her hand. Evidently a life of luxury had given the bit of black-and-white fluff excellent taste.
“And who is this?” Mattie asked, her voice sweeter and higher than usual as she stared down at the pup. Her capacity for affection had always fascinated Leo, drawing him toward her like a magnet.
“Ruby,” Vera answered with the patent pride of an adoring pet owner.
“Pleased to meet you, Ruby.” Mattie scratched down the spaniel’s spine, and the dog wriggled her back end in excitement. The enthusiastic movement caused the animal’s collar to glint from underneath her dapper scarf. It looked suspiciously like rubies and diamonds. On most pets, Leo would assume glass or paste, but given Vera Jones’s reputation for flamboyant excess, Leo rather thought the gemstones real.
When Mattie straightened, Vera held her palm out to Leo. “You must be the famous Flying Lion.”
Leo delivered one of his practiced, affable smiles—the one that he’d learned to make while being interviewed during his war days. Mattie called it hispress face, and silently he agreed. The grin always felt like a stiff facsimile of what people expected of a daring aviator.
“Yes, ma’am.”
The dog padded over to Leo and situated herself close to his feet. He glanced down. Having grown up in New York City, he wasn’t accustomed to animals. He’d encountered a few dogs and plenty of cats while living in dark, dank alleys, but they’d been as feral as him—all snarls and distrust. This carefully groomed dog with her bejeweled collar and perfectly brushed fur belonged to a different stratum where food appeared in porcelain dishes and soft bedding provided a cocoon of warmth.
Ruby’s ears drooped slightly, and her round eyes grew even larger. Leo bent down and patted her awkwardly on the head. Even with the clumsiness of his gesture, the pup seemed enthralled by his attention.Her pink tongue darted out as she eagerly licked the side of his hand. Despite himself, he was charmed.
“Ruby likes everyone,” Vera said, “but she seems particularly taken with you.”
“Really?” Leo said in surprise. He straightened and shoved his hands into his bomber jacket, his feet spread into hiswar-monument pose.
“So what brings you to the home of the McAdams Family Flying Circus, Miss Jones?” Mattie asked quickly.
Leo sent her a grateful look. Of course Mattie noticed his discomfort.
“Call me Vera,” the fashionable woman told Mattie with a wide smile. “And I am here to talk to you.”
“Me?” Mattie made an atypical squeak.
“Why are you looking for Mattie?” Leo shoved his hands farther into his leather coat as suspicion snaked through him.
Vera didn’t answer him directly and instead turned to Mattie. Her violet-blue eyes twinkled with a mix of mischievousness and determination. “In the spirit of my maternal grandparents, who operated a circus, I’m starting my own flying one. It will be called the Flying Flappers and feature primarily female daredevils. I will, of course, be the headliner. I’ll wing-walk and do other stunts outside the cockpit. I need female pilots, though, and from what I’ve just seen, you’re one of the best.”
