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“Seven minutes of time he spent with you and I’m sure he’ll get paid five hundred bucks from the insurance company.”
I laugh and put my hand on his knee. “Maybe you should have become a doctor. You sure are smart enough for one.”
He makes a face. “Absolutely not. I get queasy at the sight of blood, I’m loath to admit.”
“Then don’t ask me questions about growin’ up on a farm unless you want to hear detailed descriptions of cow inseminations and calf births.”
He wrinkles his nose and says, “Duly noted.”
The nurse walks in and hands me some papers with my name on them. “Those are your follow-up instructions. Please stop by the receptionist and make an appointment for four weeks from now.”
She leads us out, and I happily gasp when Lincoln grabs my hand and holds it tightly on our way to the front desk.
Sixteen
Lincoln
Quinn squeals as she sits in the large first-class seat of the commercial airline. “I’ve never been in first class before!”
Her excitement is infectious and I chuckle. “It’s the only way to fly.”
“Yeah, I bet it is for you, Daddy Warbucks.”
“Who’s that?” I ask.
“Annie… oh, never mind. Why don’t you have your own personal jet, huh?” she teases me.
“We have a helicopter, but the plane was too much. The three of us discussed purchasing a small jet but couldn’t justify the cost for such infrequent trips. The bulk of our business is in Colorado, and if we travel, it’s usually for personal reasons—except this Dallas conference—and figured it would be much more fiscally responsible to fly first class on commercial rather than paying for a pilot, fuel, and insurance on a private jet. Although, they are much more comfortable and dare I say fun to use as a mode of travel.”
“You coulda just said it was too expensive,” I say with a laugh. “That’s a language I sure understand.”
I’m not sure if I love or hate that this woman literally has no filter between her brain and her mouth. “That’s true. I usually don’t even talk this much, but you make me, so in my assessment, that makes this your fault.” I smirk at her.
She throws her head back and laughs. “You are a silly ol’ bird, you know that, Lincoln Silverstone?”
Bird… she’s something else.
“Hot towel?”
We look up to see the flight attendant with long legs and red hair holding a steaming box in her hand.
“No thank you,” I say.
“I’ll take one,” Quinn says.
The redhead uses tongs and hands it to Quinn, who holds it like it’s going to bite her.
“Thanks. Now what am I supposed to do with it?” Quinn asks.
The flight attendant chuckles. “It’s to relax you.”
“You put it on your face,” I whisper to her.
“Oh no. I did my makeup special today for the trip. It’ll get all messed up.” She uses two fingers to hand the towel back to the flight attendant, and I stifle a laugh.
Why didn’t I get to know this silly woman sooner? She’s brought me so many smiles.
Another flight attendant closes the door, and the pilot makes his usual announcement about the weather in Dallas and the flight time.
