In Flight (Up in the Air #1)(8)
I looked at him. His eyes were wide and doing their best ‘Puss in Boots’ impression for me already. Wow, he’s ready to bring out the big guns to get me to go tonight. I decided to let him off the hook. “I’ll go. But you have to swear not to make me sing or dance.”
He nodded earnestly, smiling his happiest, boyish smile. “I know better. You’d have to be pretty drunk to get up on that stage. And I can’t remember the last time you had a drink.”
It’d been years, I knew. The month I’d turned twenty-one had been fun, and I’d indulged at a few parties then, but me and alcohol just didn’t mix well. It was a family trait. Still, I considered having a few drinks with the crew. I was just so damned tense. Maybe I would indulge. Just let myself relax for a few hours. I couldn’t find a good reason not to. “Maybe I’ll have a few drinks tonight,” I told him.
His eyes widened. “Yeah?” He was a moderate drinker himself, but he indulged more than I did.
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Okay, Chickee,” he said, drawing the end of the word into a long eeee sound. He put his arm along the back of my seat, giving my shoulder a squeeze.
“You two are so darn cute,” Melissa gushed, when she saw his affectionate gesture.
We both gave her neutral smiles. We didn’t know her well enough to explain ourselves to her, and frankly, I doubted we’d ever be close enough friends with her to do so. I tried to always give people a chance, but so far Melissa had not impressed me. I just found her untrustworthy, though I had nothing concrete so far to prove that. Although, she did openly admit that her goal in life was to find a rich man to take care of her. That seemed pretty damned shady to me.
“And I just love all those pet names he has for you.”
Stephan gave her his most charming smile. “I’ll call you Chickee, too, if you like.”
She giggled. She was always like this when pilots were around, just way sweeter than she acted if they weren’t present. “I think that’s adorable. But my favorite is Buttercup. I heard you call her that the other day.”
He gave me a soft smile that was all for me. “That one is only for Bee.”
She clapped her hands together. “Oh, oh, oh, is there a story behind that pet name? I love stories!”
My nose crinkled. She was laying it on a little thick today. I shot a glance at the two pilots who were watching our interaction from the front row of seats in the huge van. I was guessing that she liked one of them, from the affected way she was acting.
The First Officer was younger and better looking than the Captain. Jeff, I recalled his name. He had dark brown hair, and attractive brown eyes. He was tall, with a rangy build. But my bet was she liked the Captain, since he made twice Jeff’s salary.
The Captain, whose name I was ninety percent sure was Peter, was older, with balding gray hair, a beer gut, and eyes that never strayed north of a woman’s chest.
She reaffirmed my guess almost as I thought it, sending the captain a positively beaming smile. “Don’t you just love stories, too, Peter?” she asked him.
He gave her what I thought was a slightly greasy smile. “You betcha.”
Stephan shook his head. “That story is between me and Bee. But, Peter, I’m dying to know what song you’ll choose to serenade us with tonight.” Stephan changed the subject easily, and with much charm. He had Peter laughingly refusing to sing and steering the conversation in the direction he chose with no effort whatsoever.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mr. Beautiful
I awoke to the sound of my alarm with even less enthusiasm than usual. I had tossed and turned for four hours. I’d been trying to catch enough sleep to make it through until at least eight p.m. I had failed. I would be dead on my feet by late afternoon, I guessed. I was in a positively sour mood as I stalked into my hotel room’s bathroom.
“We working out?” Stephan called out to me from his room as I came back out.
Our rooms adjoined, as they usually did when we were in this hotel. We came here often, and knew the front desk staff well enough to arrange our rooms how we preferred. We just kept the door between our rooms open. We’d been roommates for years, and only recently become neighbors instead, so it was a relaxed, effortless arrangement. We both found comfort in the other’s presence.
My only response was a mannerless grunt. He laughed. “The times when you don’t want to the most, are the times that you definitely should,” he told me.
I made a raspberry noise at him, and he laughed harder.
A moment later he came into my room, already in his gym clothes and carrying a cup of coffee from my favorite cafe on the corner. The sight cheered me instantly.
He smiled at me, wiggling his brows. “Will this change your mind? Large mocha with soy, no whip, and an extra shot of espresso.” He named off my order, though he hadn’t needed to. I’d known as soon as I saw the cup that he’d know just what I’d want.
I grinned. “You’re the best.”
“It’s a fact,” he agreed.
We worked out for an hour. The hotel’s gym was tiny and unimpressive, with one treadmill, one elliptical, one stationary bike, and some free weights. I stuck to the elliptical for the full hour, but Stephan flitted around from the bike, to the treadmill, and spent a half an hour lifting weights. It was his usual routine, and I watched him, feeling good as I listened to music on my phone and worked out.