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“Why?”
“Because people fudge their weight.”
“Five minutes,” warned the pilot.
“I’m sorry, but do you really think I care what either of you think about my weight?” Molly laughed at the absurdity. “Fine, I’ll get on your scale. Just for the sake of accuracy.” She started to take her coat off, but the pilot stopped her.
“Leave it on. We need the weight of your clothes too.”
She stepped onto the scale, wondering why Valentino made such a heavy coat and why she’d chosen to wear boots with such thick heels. Her clothes were going to make a liar out of her, and that bothered her. She didn’t care what they thought about her weight, but she did like to be seen as accurate and truthful.
“Put down a hundred and fifty-five,” the pilot told the girl.
“For the record, that hundred and forty-two was without any clothes.” Immediately she wished she could bite her tongue and take that back. Who cared, anyway? They were just trying to load the plane.
“You’re welcome to prove it, if you can get your clothes off in the next four minutes.” The pilot’s mild tone of voice hid all kinds of mockery, and a one-sided smile lurked behind his scruff.
She glared at him. “Inappropriate.”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“You are,” the girl agreed, biting her lip, no doubt to hold back laughter. “I heard you. You said?—”
“Never mind.” Molly cut her off, knowing a losing argument when she saw one. “Do you need to weigh my bag too?”
“No. You said it was forty-nine pounds, that’s good enough for me.”
“But…you…”
“People don’t generally lie about how much their bags weigh, and I figure you must have flown to Alaska very recently, or you would have different clothes by now—don’t worry, no need to take them off until you get new ones—therefore they must have already weighed your bag. Are you ready to move on from your obsession with weight so we can get you in the plane?”
“I’m not obsessed…you’re ridiculous.” She cast around for something to throw back at him. “Let’s go. I just hope your plane is in better shape than your computer.”
“It might have a little duct tape here and there, do you want me to take it off?” he asked innocently.
She gritted her teeth. It had been a long time since someone had bested her when it came to verbal sparring. How had some bumfuck pilot managed it? If she didn’t have that ticking clock working against her, maybe she’d take the time and show him who he was dealing with. But she desperately wanted to get to Firelight Ridge and find Lila.
And avoid the hanging deer in the diesel garage.
“Where’s the damn plane?”
4
Sam Coburn had to hold back his laughter as he led his glamorous passenger to Rover, his fixed-wing Cessna 172 Skyhawk. Aside from Rover, he owned two other planes, a ten-seater and one fitted for cargo. But since Molly Evans was his only passenger today, he was using his most fuel-efficient and favorite rig. He planned to fly it home, make a special delivery, then take a couple of days off while the storm passed.
But his time off might not be quite as entertaining as this flight promised to be. Molly Evans was a firecracker, definitely his kind of woman. He liked women who challenged him. Life was more interesting that way. He planned to enjoy tweaking the stunning redhead as much as he could during the half-hour flight across the ridges of the Wrangell Mountains.
Once she was belted into the seat next to him, he handed her the headphones that served as both ear protection and a way to communicate. She eyed the tiny cockpit with pure skepticism. “This is it? Is this the kind of plane you have to spin the blades to make it go?”
“Props.”
“What?”
“We call those props. Short for propellers.” He gestured at the nose of the plane. “Normally I like to use a thing called a motor to get the props going, but if you really want to go the manual route, just give it a big push, then get back in here quick.”
She rolled her eyes and put on the headphones. “I thought you were supposed to be the taciturn type? All the reviews said you didn’t like to talk to passengers. I considered that a huge point in your favor. Where’s that Sam Coburn?”
She’d researched him. Of course she had. This woman was a sharp cookie. He found that pretty hot, to be honest. He’d never looked at his reviews, but he wasn’t surprised to find they were less than favorable. Tourists expected things to be a certain way, and he had no patience for that.
