Dakota opened his mouth. Closed it.
She grinned. “Security consultant?”
“Close enough.” He shook his head, reluctantly impressed. “What are you, a reporter?”
“Close enough.”
“Most people don’t notice things—too stuck on their phones.”
“Like the woman with the toddler at the gate. She had no idea her kid was about to take a header into the floor. Good job, Spider-Man.”
“The kid tried to make a break for it too.”
“You prevented an airport tragedy.”
Oh boy. And then the smile again, and it moved something in his chest.
Eleven hours with this wouldn’t be terrible.
The captain’s voice crackled over the intercom, announcing their departure time and cruising altitude and a whole bunch of other information that passengers ignored. Flight attendants began their safety demonstration—exits here and here, flotation devices under the seats, oxygen masks dropping from above.
“You ready to deploy the exit door?” he asked, and glanced at the sleeper by the window. “All our hopes are pinned on you.”
She laughed. “Sure. Although no bets that, if it comes to that, I won’t be in the fetal position, so . . . just feel free to step over my body and rescue us all.”
Yeah, he liked her.
Beyond Jayden, by the window, the heavyset man already snored against the glass, mouth open, headphones on. The plane began to taxi. Outside the window, the Hawaiian sun bled out over the ocean, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The engines hummed. The cabin lights dimmed.
Somewhere behind them, Vic made a small, distressed sound.
Jayden glanced back. “Poor guy.”
“He’ll survive.” Dakota settled into his seat as the plane accelerated down the runway. “He told me that most plane crashes happen within three minutes of takeoff or landing.”
“So in four minutes, he’ll be okay?”
“No, in four minutes, I’ll be okay.” He winked at her.
“Do you need me to hold your hand?”
Was she flirting with him? Or maybe he was flirting with her?
Focus!
He was not on vacation. He needed to remember that, maybe.
The wheels left the ground. The plane banked, and Honolulu fell away beneath them—a sprawl of lights against the darkening Pacific, shrinking until it was just a speck in the vastness of the ocean.
“Eleven hours,” Jayden said. “What’s your strategy? Movies? Sleep?”
Dakota pulled a worn paperback from his carry-on and set it on the tray table. “Reading.”
She leaned slightly to see the cover. “A River Runs Through It.” Her eyebrows lifted. “Norman Maclean. The fly-fishing one.”
“That’s the one.”
“I didn’t peg you for literary fiction. More Tom Clancy. Maybe Lee Child.”
