She’s gorgeous.
Today, she’s wearing frayed skinny jeans, Converses, and a gray tee. As she turns, I can see it bears a faded cartoon cow with the wordsTalk Dirt to Mebeneath it.
“Is that an order?” I ask, approaching her.
She looks down at it. “It was either this one or one that saidAsk Me About My Soil Microbes.”
I huff a short laugh. She’s wearing a black baseball cap, and her white hair is only visible as a ponytail protruding through the hole at the back above the Velcro strip. She’s also darkened her eyebrows and applied mascara. She’s trying to hide her unusual coloring. That’s a shame.
Her gaze brushes up me from my shoes to my face, bringing me out in goose bumps. “It’s the first time I’ve seen you wearing something other than a suit,” she says.
I pass my case to the flight attendant. “Do I pass muster?”
Her lips curve up. “Did you take that polo shirt straight out of the packet?”
I did, as it happens. “What are you implying?”
“Nothing at all. Do you actually ask your housekeeper to put creases in the front of your jeans?”
I scowl as the flight attendant tries not to laugh. “Unlike some people, I don’t feel the need to fake being a man of the people.”
“I don’t fake anything, darlin’,” Maddie says, “least of all being a man.”
“Jesus, is this what I can expect for the next few days?”
She gives me a wry look. “All ready to go?” she asks. “The plane’s waiting.”
“Yep… he says with a feeling of impending doom.” I pass my hand luggage to be checked and meet Maddie on the other side of the scanner, and she leads the way out onto the tarmac and across to the waiting plane.
When we get to the steps, I say, “After you.”
“Guests first,” she corrects, and waits for me to move.
I hesitate, then move forward at the same time she does, and we bump into one another, her shoulder brushing my chest. We both step back at the same time and exchange an exasperated look.
“Oh this is going great,” she says sarcastically.
I don’t reply. I’m too busy recalibrating. She looks younger in her casual clothing, and her T-shirt is a reminder of her sassy sense of humor. I thought I’d armored up for this journey, but it reveals to me that she knows exactly where the chinks in my chainmail are. I’m not prepared for this at all.
It’s flashier than the Ashford jet, which annoys me. Ours is an eight-seater, but this is more luxurious and can seat twelve. The flight attendant introduces himself as Joe and directs us to the seats, which are in pairs facing each other across polished wooden tables.
I take a window seat. To my surprise, Maddie slides into the aisle seat beside me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, startled.
“Is that a trick question?” She plugs her seat belt in.
“You’re supposed to sit opposite,” I state. It’s like peeing in a public bathroom—it’s an accepted fact that you never take the urinal next to someone else.
“I don’t like flying with my back to the plane,” she says.
“There are twelve seats on this plane.”
“And you don’t think it would be rude for me to sit in a different section so I have to shout at you across the aisle?”
I don’t want to sit this close to her for the whole flight. “Let me out and I’ll sit opposite.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh stop making a fuss. It’s only ninety minutes, right?” She tightens her belt irritably.
