Page 19 of Postmarked December

Heather considered this, her fingers resting on the cover of her book.

His smile widened just a touch. “You can be any version of yourself you want for a couple of hours.” He glanced at the novel in her lap, then back to her. “Or you can be more yourself than usual, because your actions won’t follow you when you land. I’ll disappear into the swarms of passengers, and you’ll be on your way to wherever it is you’re going.”

She let out a quiet laugh. “And who do you usually become on planes?” she asked. “Someone else or your true self?”

Nick glanced above the rows in front of him in thought. Then he turned back to her. “Someone who talks to a woman he might not approach in any other circumstance.”

Her cheeks warmed at that, though she wasn’t sure why. “Should I feel special by that comment?”

He met her eyes, sincere. “I don’t know. I was just being truthful.”

The plane turned on the tarmac and then was cleared for departure. The engines roared and they began to move forward, the plane jerking slightly as it made its way down the runway. Instinctively, she reached for the armrest. Her fingers brushed his arm. Neither of them moved right away. Good grief. He probably thought she was flirting. Although their exchange had definitely ranked up there with her most unsettling plane interactions.

“Well,” she said, clearing her throat as she pulled back her hand, “I guess temporary honesty doesn’t hurt.”

Nick smiled, and she quickly turned and reopened her book. But as the plane gained speed, she found herself rereading the same sentence twice, now highly aware of him beside her; of the strange, weightless feeling as the plane gathered speed, until the wheels lifted smoothly from the pavement, and they climbed into the open sky.

The ping of the seat-belt sign momentarily distracted her, and she looked up. It wasn’t like her to initiate a longer conversation. She could just stare at her book for the next hour and fifteen minutes. As the plane leveled off, she tried to read, but struggled, her mind full with the strange sensation of having just chatted with Nick. She didn’t get to talk to strangers that often. His interest was nice. She probably shouldn’t ask him anything else. But he’d started the whole introductions thing, and now it seemed weird to just shut off for the rest of the flight.

She closed her book. “So were you visiting someone in Nashville?”

“I’m from Nashville, actually,” he replied.

“Oh, me too.”

“I live in East Nashville,” he said.

She nodded. “Midtown.”

He flashed that smile. “A hop, skip, and a jump then.”

Was she telling him too much? Could he figure out where she lived? Marion would scold her with those questions, surely.

“So are you connecting in Greenville?” she asked.

“Uh, no. I’m going to Greenville for work.”

The flight attendant interrupted. “Drink orders?”

“I’ll have a water,” Heather said.

“Coke.” Nick turned back to her. “How about you?”

“I’m heading to Greenville as well.”

“What brings you to South Carolina?” There was an indescribable care behind his words, and that attentiveness showed on his face once more, making her feel she could tell him anything. It was as if he was hanging on her answer.

“Um…” What should she tell him? “I’m on…vacation.”

His brows pulled together in an adorable way. “By yourself?” He asked the question, but it was clear by the slowness of his words that he already knew the answer.

Her discernment pinged, Marion’s stern finger waggling in her mind. He looked more amused than worried about her traveling alone, however, which she found charming. The sparkle in his eye made it difficult to focus. If that wasn’t enough, the cascade of thoughts about how she hadn’t considered a single person attractive in the last year flooded her. Not the guy two doors down or the new barista at The Steaming Quill—no one. The feeling was foreign and slightly uncomfortable, like an ill-fitting shirt.

“No… I’m meeting someone there,” she lied.

He nodded. Was that skepticism in his pout? She was a terrible liar. He could probably sense her fib from a mile away. She’d better stop talking to him before she had to answer difficult questions like “What are you going to do for three days?” She had no idea.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your magazine,” she said.