Page 42

No kissing. Just talk.

Heller Airfield came into view as he soared over New Jersey. Almost home.

Constance would be there when he landed, sitting at that big old desk, looking so prim and proper and so deeply tempting. But he had to stop thinking of her that way, at least until he was certain of her feelings. Because no matter what enticing fantasies his overheated brain cooked up, none of them were worth sacrificing a lifetime of friendship for.

He touched his breast pocket as he banked to the right, craving the reassurance of the carousel ring. He’d carried that carousel ring with him everywhere for years, and it had kept him safe and sane through adolescence, a war, the Spanish flu, and flying the mail. Was he really risking the friendship that meant everything to him for a chance at love? Even after how things went with Myrtle? He’d sworn he was finished with love, but there was no resisting what they’d set in motion with that kiss.

What was he going to say? How could he tell her things he barely had words for himself? How could he avoid ruining everything and pushing away the person who had always been the tether for his wayward heart?

There was no time to worry about it because he was coming in fast, angling between the fireworks factory and the jewelry factory to position himself just so above the short and bumpy airstrip. He had to hit it at just the right speed, or he and his plane would end up in the dirt pile at the end of the runway.

As he made the sharp turn, he throttled down the engines and let the plane coast, praying he’d slowed down enough to avoid an embarrassing landing. The plane touched down and then lifted back up. He angled it down again, and this time it stayed on the ground, the back skid dragging in the dirt, creating a plume of brown behind him as he ground to a halt closer to the dirt pile than he would have liked. He let out a long slow breath. No matter how many times he’d done this, he said a silent prayer of thanks every time he landed safe.

Taxiing back to the hangar, he tried to ignore the tension in his gut. Ernie would no doubt have found some way to place obstacles in his way to prevent him from talking to Constance. He’d made his views on the matter crystal clear. But Ernie was flying to Chicago at the moment and wasn’t due back until Saturday. It was Millie’s night to drive Constance home. No doubt Ernie had enlisted her help to keep him away from Constance, but she might be easier to sway.

The mechanic greeted him as he glided to a halt and got to work tuning up the plane almost as soon as Jack was out of it. Jack lumbered to the locker room, eager to shed his heavy leather flight suit. On the way, he stopped at his mail cubby. Sure enough, there was a piece of paper folded on top with a scrawled note. “Leave her alone, and don’t try to talk to her. It’s for the best. Ernie.”

Jack balled up the note and threw it in the trash. Ernie meant well, he knew, but this was ridiculous. He would have thought a lifetime of friendship would have earned him a little more trust. He was the best man at Ernie’s wedding, for heaven’s sake. And one would think Ernie would be a bit more forgiving, given how much sneaking around he had to do to be with Millie.

Grateful to have the locker room to himself, he unbuttoned his suit and hung it up to air out. God, it felt good to get out of that thing. He stripped off his sweaty clothes and stepped into the shower, closing the utilitarian white curtain behind him. It was tempting to skip the shower and go straight to Constance, but he didn’t want to stink of sweat, engine oil, and leather when he confessed his feelings to her.

Scrubbing as quickly as her could, he rinsed off and grabbed a towel. In record time, he put on fresh clothes from his ditty bag and pomaded his short-cropped hair into order. He even brushed his teeth for good measure, not that he planned on kissing Constance. Not that he’d been dwelling on the possibility and fantasizing about it for the last three days. And he absolutely wouldn’t take things further, even if they did kiss, no matter what lurid and enticing images his mind cooked up.

Like Constance pressed against him, her leg wrapped around his hip as he kissed her neck. Constance pulling out her hairpins and letting her chestnut hair cascade over her shoulders. Unbuttoning Constance’s dress and sliding it down to reveal the delicate swell of her breasts.

What color were her undergarments? Did she still wear a corset, chemise, and drawers, or had she started wearing bras and knickers like so many modern young women? Was her garter belt satin or lace?

Dammit. He’d let his mind wander, and now he was half hard from a few moments’ errant thoughts. He couldn’t go out and talk to her like this. To cool things off, he mentally recited his pre-flight checklist, and fortunately, by the end, he was presentable again.

It was time to face his doom. Either she felt the same way he did, or he’d ruined their friendship forever. No pressure.

Steeling himself, he grabbed his bag, strode out of the locker room, and headed to the front desk where he knew he’d find her. And there she was, pretty as an angel in a plum-colored dress, smiling like the sun…and talking to Millie.

That didn’t bode well. How was he going to get her away from Millie?

The moment he entered, both women turned his way.

“Thompson! How was your flight? Can I borrow you for a minute? I need you to look at my car. It won’t start.” Millie sprang forward, grabbing his hand and pulling him outside before he could even get a greeting out to Constance. Ernie must have gotten to her. This was going to be more difficult than he thought.

“Millie, please, I need to talk to Constance alone, even if it’s only for a few minutes,” he said in a low voice, hoping no one would overhear. He wasn’t above begging if it would help his case. If she was on team Ernie, he had no hope, but he had to try.

“I know that, you big idiot, and I’m trying to help you without getting myself in hot water,” she murmured back. “Just follow my lead.”

Oh, thank God. He always liked Millie. She was one of the few people who knew how to put Ernie in his place. It was such a relief to have her on his side.

“Hi there, Groff,” she called out, waving to another pilot who had just parked his car. “Thompson here is helping me figure out what’s wrong with my car. I can’t get it to start.”

“Sorry to hear you’re having car trouble, Skates.”

Jack smiled at Millie’s new nickname. It would have been too confusing to have two Pritchards, and when word got around about how Ernie proposed at a skating rink, the name had stuck.

“Do you need any help?” Groff asked, coming over.

“Nah. I think Thompson and I can handle it, but thanks for asking!” Millie gave Groff a lopsided grin and clapped him on the shoulder. It was amazing how swiftly Millie had become one of the boys.

Groff shrugged. “If you say so, but if you need anything, just ask.”

“I will.”