Page 4 of Stalked By the Pilot

"Ms. Woodbridge's work—I respect it, you know?" I weave admiration into my words, not laying it on too thick, but enough to let them know my interest goes beyond the cockpit. "Her talent, her dedication...I'm here because I believe in aligning my skills with people who aim high. And she's stratospheric."

They nod, scribble notes, and I can tell I'm hitting the right altitude with them. This isn't just about getting from A to B. It's about understanding the world I'm hoping to enter. Her world.

"Thank you, Mr. Caldwell," they say as we wrap up. "We'll be in touch."

"Looking forward to it," I reply, tipping an imaginary hat their way. The door closes behind me with a soft click, and I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. One thing's for sure. If flying is about staying level, that interview was smooth cruising at thirty-five thousand feet. Now, it's just a matter of waiting for clearance to land.

Days melt into each other after that, each tick of the clock stretching longer than the last. My phone becomes an extension of my hand, a tether to the call that might just redefine my life. Coffee goes cold, unread emails pile up, but none of it registers—there's only space for one notification in my mind.

"Come on, come on," I mutter each time I swipe the screen alive, half-praying to the gods of good news.

And then, when I'm about to give in to another round of nail-biting, the ringtone I've been craving slices through the silence. I lunge for the phone so fast I risk a sprain.

"Ben Caldwell speaking," I say, voice a steady stream of cool, but inside? Inside, I'm a drum solo waiting for the crash.

"Mr. Caldwell, it's Jenna from Kate Woodbridge's production team," comes the reply, calm as a clear sky day. "We are pleased to inform you that you've been selected as Ms. Woodbridge's personal pilot."

"Thank you." I have to fight to keep the cheer from exploding from me. After all, I have to keep this professional.

"Congratulations," Jenna says. "We'll send over the contract details shortly."

"Looking forward to it," I say, and as we end the call, I punch the air, my heart doing loop-de-loops. This isn't just a job offer. It's a boarding pass to the next level—closer to the stars, closer to her.

Her.

My dream girl.

The sun hasn't even bothered to crawl its way above the horizon yet, and here I am, striding across the tarmac like a man on a mission. My new winged chariot—a sleek, shiny testament to mankind's defiance of gravity—waits patiently for me, a beast ready to be tamed.

"Morning, beautiful," I murmur, running my hand along her flank, feeling the cool metal under my fingertips. The pre-flight checklist is clutched in my other hand, but it might as well be a love letter. Every box I tick, every switch I flick, it's all part of the dance—the intimate ritual between pilot and plane.

Hydraulics? Check. Fuel levels? Check. Engine gauges? Double-check.

I'm thorough, leaving nothing to chance. After all, today isn't just any first day—it's the first day. And I’ll be hauling the most precious cargo I’ve ever hauled.

Kate Woodbridge, the siren of the silver screen, is about to entrust her life to my hands. And those hands need to be damn sure they know what they're doing.

My pulse quickens as the time ticks down. I'm not usually one to get jittery before a flight, but then again, it's not every day you're about to meet Hollywood royalty. My reflection in the cockpit window shows a man with a grin that's trying too hard, hair styled to casual perfection, and a suit that screams 'I'm the boss, but I'm laid back about it.'

I shake my head as I give the fuselage one last pat. It's almost showtime.

I position myself by the entrance, practicing my greeting. "Welcome aboard, Ms. Woodbridge," I rehearse under my breath, each word laced with just the right amount of warm professionalism. I've got this. I'm Ben Caldwell, charmer of the skies, the guy who makes turbulence feel like a gentle caress.

But as the clock nudges closer to her arrival, I can't help but feel the heat simmering beneath my collar. I swipe a palm over the back of my neck, wishing away the nerves. Come on, she's just another client, I tell myself.

Yeah, and I'm just a guy who's about to have his world rocked, no big deal.

The sleek black town car pulls up, and she steps out like a scene from the kind of movie that leaves you breathless. Kate Woodbridge, in living color and walking straight towards me. My heart's doing this weird jumpy thing, like it wants to leap out of my chest and do a solo act on the tarmac.

"Ms. Woodbridge, I'm Ben Caldwell," I manage to say without tripping over the syllables. "Your new personal pilot."

"Please, call me Kate," she replies, her voice a melody that could turn the engine on without keys.

"Kate," I echo, and damn if it doesn't feel like I'm saying hello to a dream I never want to wake up from. We exchange pleasantries, and there's laughter in her eyes, a spark that tells me she's not just any client—she's the kind that could reroute your entire flight plan with one look.

"Shall we?" I gesture toward the gleaming aircraft waiting patiently for its VIP passenger.

"Lead the way," she says with a smile that could light up the darkest sky.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com