Page 26 of Plane Passion

9

Ernie stared at the closed door far longer than he should have.

He knew better than to flirt with Millie, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. She did something to him, and he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. It was too much fun to ruffle her feathers, and she was so magnificent when she got worked up. Moreover, he liked her. She was brave and funny and knew how to put him in his place. Her attraction to him was as flattering as it was obvious. He could only hope he was better at hiding his feelings than she was.

Because she wasn’t wrong about the risks. If Mr. Dickson suspected anything was brewing between them, it would cost them both their jobs. With his whole family depending on him, he could not afford to step out of line.

He rolled up the maps with the route to Bellefonte and pulled out four maps with the route from Bellefonte to Chicago. Flying the mail was a dangerous business, and they both needed to focus if they were going to make it to Chicago safe and sound. Neither of them could afford distraction.

Too bad she was distraction personified. When she’d bent over to get that notepad and pencil, he nearly groaned out loud. Thank goodness he was sitting, and the table hid his reaction. That ass and those gams were going to be the death of him.

And that right there was exactly the kind of thought he couldn’t afford to have.

Keep it professional, idiot. You have responsibilities. Pretend she’s one of the men.

The doorknob turned, and she walked back in, holding two tin cups of water and knocking all his good intentions out of his head. She definitely wasn’t one of the men—not with those mesmerizing, swaying hips.

“Here. I thought you might be thirsty since it’s so warm in here.” She held out a cup and stared him down like she was daring him not to take it.

Damn right he was thirsty, but it had nothing to do with the temperature. Their fingers brushed as he accepted the cup, sending tingles right up his arm.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, averting his gaze. “We should get back to work. I’ve got the maps for the route from Bellefonte to Chicago here. You’ll need to pay close attention. The hardest part of the route is Hell’s Stretch after you leave Bellefonte.”

“Hell’s Stretch?” She took a seat opposite him and leaned over the map. Her subtle scent of soap and lemon stole over him as he leaned closer.

“That’s what we call the route over the Alleghenies. It’s all tree covered, so there’s nowhere to land. And it’s prone to thick fog. We’ve lost more than one good man in Hell’s Stretch.” Zane Erickson and Phillip Cartwright. Sometimes he still expected to see them swaggering through the hangar, even though he’d attended both of their funerals. A lump formed in his throat just thinking of them.

She covered his hand with her own and gave it a little squeeze. “I’m sorry you lost your friends.”

He looked up and met her gaze, the kindness in her eyes melting his pitiful attempt at stoicism.

“Thanks.” It came out in a rough voice, and he swallowed down the lump in his throat.

There was almost nothing left of them after those crashes. For both funerals, the caskets were sealed shut and with good reason. He’d seen his fair share of crash victims during the war and didn’t have to imagine the state of the remains. And now he was supposed to watch Millie risk her life flying that treacherous route. “Pay close attention. I don’t want to lose you too.”

She squeezed his hand again, making his heart ache something awful. “You won’t. I promise.”

Pulling his hand away, he shook his head. “Don’t make promises. It’s bad luck.”

It was tempting fate. They told each other to break a wing or wished each other “death or glory” to stave off the all-too-real possibility that the odds would not be in their favor that day.

She smiled and shook her head. “I hate to break it to you, Pritchard, but you’re stuck with me. I am your bad luck. You think I won’t keep coming back like a bad penny just to spite you?”

He chuckled. “Too true. But don’t lose me after Bellefonte. All right?”

Her expression sobered. “I won’t, but what should I do in the unlikely event that we get separated? I like to know all the contingencies.”

Blowing out his breath between his lips, he stared at the ceiling. “Fine. If it happens, fly up above the cloud cover and steer as straight a course as you can using your compass. Once the clouds pass, pick up your route again if you recognize the landscape. If not, find a field to set down in and call for help.”

“Makes sense. Now show me the route.” She bent over the map, studying the pencil markings, and he did his best to resist the urge to reach out and caress her cheek.

As he walked her through the landmarks she should follow and described the landscape they would traverse, she took meticulous notes. Studious Millie was dangerously endearing, but he kept his focus on her safety. Above all, he couldn’t let anything bad happen to her. It might have been his job to get her to quit, but not at the risk of any harm coming to her. She was his responsibility, and he would do his utmost to see her through this unscathed.

At some point during their review, she pulled her chair over so that she was sitting right next to him. The tension between them stretched taut as the wires on his biplane wings. It was getting hard to form sentences with her so close.

“This tends to be a turbulent patch,” he said, pointing to a particularly tricky stretch over a mountain pass. “If the plane starts to buck underneath you, you’re going to want to grip the stick hard and go faster. But try to take a lighter touch and give it some play while you slow down.”

“Ride it out slow and loose. Got it.”