She gently closed the door and slipped into the co-pilot seat with practiced politeness, almost as if she wasn’t sure she was allowed to take up space. Slater noticed that about her—how she always seemed to apologize for existing, even when she absolutely didn’t need to.
He had no doubt that with the door closed, Milo and Nora were going to do what they’d been not so discreetly trying to do.
Silence settled back in, punctuated only by the hum of the engines and the soft chatter of instruments. Slater glanced sideways at Evie. She was smiling to herself, her gaze fixed on the stretch of sky ahead of them, the city lights of Seattle already far behind.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your…um…flying? Piloting? Or maybe your very serious pilot business?”
“This is the least exciting part,” he said. “It’s basically professional sitting.”
That earned him a quiet laugh. He liked the sound but could tell she hadn’t decided whether she was allowed to enjoy herself yet.
They flew like that for a moment, companionable and easy. Slater glanced at the instruments and made a slight course correction before nodding toward the window. “Have you ever been up here before?”
“No,” she admitted. “I kind of love it, though. I can see everything.”
“Careful,” he said lightly. “You’re going to make me think you’re a thrill-seeker.”
She snorted. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh?” He raised a brow. “Because I’ve got an entire list of things I was planning to corrupt you with once we get back to the resort.”
That got her attention. She turned toward him, curious despite herself. “Such as?”
“Hiking the north trail. The long one. Parasailing over the lake. Kayaking at sunrise. Or maybe sunset.” He paused, watching her expression carefully. “Nothing wild. Just… outside the comfort zone a little.”
Her smile shifted, softened. It wasn’t quite gone, but maybe just quieter and more thoughtful.
“Everyone thinks they know my comfort zone, but they don’t,” she said quietly. “Like Tucker. I hate the way he described me. Uptight.”
The word landed between them, and he could tell how much it bothered her. Personally, he never thought of her that way, but right now with her rigid posture, he could see where others might.
“That’s on him, not you,” Slater said quickly. “I’m just saying…sometimes people decide who you are without actually asking.”
She was quiet for a few seconds. Then she surprised him.
“I actually love the outdoors,” she said. “I just… don’t talk about it much.”
Slater blinked. “Really?”
“Really.” She tucked one leg under herself, suddenly more relaxed. “I was a varsity volleyball player in high school. College, too, for a bit.”
He turned fully toward her now. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Middle hitter. Very intense ponytail phase.” She grinned. “I lived at the gym. Practices, weights, conditioning. It was my entire personality.”
That did it. He laughed, a real one. “Okay, I did not see that coming.”
“Everyone says that,” she said. “I think I give off… book club energy.”
“You absolutely do not,” he said, and then, softer, “You give off capable.”
Her cheeks warmed at that, but she didn’t look away.
“And,” she added, like she’d been saving it, “I still take spin classes. Three times a week.”
Slater stared. “Impressive.”
“Mm-hmm. I could absolutely destroy you on a bike.”
