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The plane was nearly full when the flight crew arrived, leis still hanging around their necks. They were laughing and joking as the attendant who’d welcomed him aboard turned the flight over to them. Holden glanced up at the sound of their voices, which was different from the subdued tones with which the passengers had moved through first class and shuffled to the back of the plane.
He was about to return his attention to the computer screen when what his eyes had seen fully hit his brain, and he returned his gaze to the attendant with dark brown hair and eyes the color of a cloudy sky. The man he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about was standing right in front of him like something out of a romance novel, his skin lightly bronzed and a smile gracing his gorgeous face. Not to mention the way his light blue button-up and slim-fitting navy pants accentuated his trim figure and long legs.
Holden’s heart beat faster as Greg looked his way, and all the fantasies Holden had had about meeting up with him again started playing in his mind. Then Greg did a double take and locked eyes with him over one of his coworker’s shoulders. His expression turned to stone. The smile on Holden’s face faltered, and he looked down at his computer, heat burning in his cheeks.Greghad been the one not to text, so Holden wondered why he was getting the death stare. If anyone should be upset, shouldn’t it be him? After all, they barely knew each other. Maybe, like himself, Greg wasn’t out at work. Holden didn’t like to stereotype, but the way Greg had been interacting with his coworkers before he’d spotted Holden made it seem unlikely. Even if he hadn’t met Greg in a gay club, the man would have pinged Holden’s gaydar in a heartbeat.
He chanced another look as Greg and two of the other attendants filed down the center aisle. As Greg moved past him, Holden turned slightly to follow his progress toward the rear galley and couldn’t look away from those long legs and the defined muscles in his ass. His uniform shouldn’t have been sexy, but it definitely was.
In the dark club, Holden hadn’t been able to get more than a basic sense of what Greg looked like, but in the brightly lit cabin, he readily drank in the man’s full, sensuous lips—I kissed those lips—his sharply defined cheekbones—I touched those and traced the stubble he’d had on his jaw too—and the waves in his hair.
Holden turned away, settled back into his seat, and felt his stomach drop as Brody caught his eye and gave him a thumbs-up along with a lewd wink. With a weak smile, Holden closed his eyes and leaned his head back, thanking the powers that be that there’d been an attractive female attendant on the crew and cursing himself for being so careless. Especially around Brody.
Getting any more work done before takeoff was pretty much impossible with his mind reeling from both Greg’s presence and the near miss with Brody, so Holden packed up his computer. He gratefully accepted a glass of white wine from the first-class attendant and hoped it would settle his nerves, but it didn’t keep his mind from drifting back to Greg.
Especially not when the man’s voice came over the PA to do the safety announcement.
Holden could have recited the safety spiel from memory, but today he listened to every single word. Greg’s voice was rich, a low baritone that Holden remembered whispering in his ear, but there were nuances he hadn’t been able to hear over the music at Neon. He caught a subtle drawl, not distinct enough to be Southern but definitely rooted in that part of the country. The sound of it made Holden shiver slightly. He wanted to hear more, wanted to hear the way his name sounded coming out of that mouth, could imagine the sounds Greg made when he was turned on, when he was coming...Holden forced himself to cut those thoughts short. He had no desire to join the solo flyers’ mile high club after takeoff.
The announcements came to an end, and the first-class flight attendant closed the curtain, blocking the sight of the masses in coach from their view. It was a short flight, only two and a half hours, but there would still be a fruit plate with cheese and sliced meats for those seated in first class, along with more alcohol. Holden noted that Brody already had two empty bottles on his tray and was working on a third. They hadn’t even reached cruising altitude yet.
He’d never been a heavy drinker, though he’d faked it something fierce when he needed to while in the Navy. Fortunately, being in one of the brain-geek specialties shielded him from most of the displays of alpha manhood that guys like Brody seemed to live and breathe. Skirt chasing, binge drinking, extreme dares of physical prowess, for the most part, Holden had flown beneath the radar and been left alone. He’d perfected the art of disappearing into the background and blending into the crowd, going along just enough that no one could point a finger at him and wonder why they never saw him drunk or with a woman. A couple of times, when he sensed a shift in the way the guys in his unit treated him, he and a female tech would fake date as cover for their orientations. When he needed a date for an event, he asked a female friend.
Holden wasn’t anti-alcohol; he was simply too aware of how easy it was to slip up after a few drinks and couldn’t afford the risk. DODT had made everyone in his unit a potential threat while he was in the military, and now that he worked for a DOD contractor, he still had to be on his guard at work. Not letting his gaze linger too long on any guy; being careful of pronouns when he talked about past relationships or hookups or, better yet, never talking about any at all; laughing at off-color queer jokes, even though they made him feel ill—all of these were SOP for him and part of the heteronormative camouflage he wore every day of his life.
He knew the risks, knew the dangers, and yet, once the captain turned off the fasten seat belt sign, Holden waited until the first-class restroom was in use and slipped behind the curtain into coach. While it wasn’t likely Brody would ask, Holden could say he was using the lavatory at the back of the plane. Plausible deniability. Always calculating risk versus reward. It was exhausting.
Maybe he was an idiot for taking this risk when Greg hadn’t texted him back, but something about the man drew him to the back of the plane, where Greg was getting the beverage service ready while his companions delivered pre-ordered snacks to the passengers in coach. He glanced up when Holden stopped at the end of the aisle, then turned back to his task without a hint of acknowledgment or recognition. Holden didn’t have a plan or any idea what to say, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since the night at the club. He’d wanted to be able to say yes to dinner, but at the time, his schedule had had him leaving LA in the morning. He should have been back in Virginia by now, but by some act of luck or fate, they seemed to be getting another chance, and Holden wanted to take it.
Greg continued to ignore Holden, but when he neither spoke nor moved, Greg gave him an exasperated expression and asked, “Can I help you with something, sir?”
“You told me you’d text.”
The statement made Greg’s hand pause as he reached for the bin of chips, and Holden watched his back straighten as he turned.
“And you told me you’d be in Virginia.” Greg turned his back but continued speaking before Holden could say a word. “If there’s nothing I can do for you, sir, I suggest you return to your seat.”
The cold shoulder suddenly made sense, but before Holden could explain, the other male flight attendant slid into the small gally, effectively creating a barrier between him and Greg.
“Need a hand with anything?” he asked.
“Nope. I’ve got it,” Greg answered.
“Can I get you anything?” the attendant asked Holden, the fuck-off in his expression as clear as the sunlight streaming through the window.
“No, I’m… No. I’m good.” Holden slunk back to his seat at once confused by Greg’s rebuff and, if not grateful, at least gratified by the way the attendants looked after each other. He wondered how often they got hit on or propositioned by passengers, and it hurt that Greg’s coworker would think he was that kind of asshole.
For the rest of the flight, Holden alternated between wondering if he’d done or said something to put Greg off, if that was why he hadn’t texted, and wanting to explain why he was heading to Denver a week after telling Greg he couldn’t go to dinner because he was leaving LA. And then chiding himself for being hung up on a guy with whom he’d spent a couple of hours in a club that was too noisy for a decent conversation. Had it been that long since he’d had a hookup that the least little bit of contact with another man had him tied up in knots?
Holden shook his head. He wasn’t that kind of guy. He’d never pursued someone, not for a relationship, not for sex. Not ever. But something about Greg called to him. It wasn’t just seeing him on the flight; it was all the time Holden had spent thinking about him, fantasizing about him, wishing they had had more than those few hours at Neon and a handful of kisses. Seeing him again had brought those feelings into sharp focus because the actual man was so much more captivating than Holden’s memories.
Two rows ahead of him, Brody’s coarse laugh broke through Holden’s thoughts and brought him back to reality as he realized he couldn’t do anything about this attraction he felt anyway. With a sigh, Holden opened up his laptop and got back to work on his report about the simulator issues at China Lake.
Chapter five
Greg
Thedayhadnotstarted out well. A major storm in the Pacific had caused flight delays getting out of Honolulu, and although the pilot had made up some time once they were in the air, they were still late getting into their gate at LAX, but not late enough to bring on another crew. As soon as the plane was clear, the flight crew had to hustle their way across the airport to report for the flight to Denver. They’d made it, but barely. They’d laughed their way down the jetway well after the initial crush of passengers but ahead of any stragglers.
Greg had still been laughing when he’d caught sight of Holden in the last row in first class and felt any lingering guilt about not texting the man get replaced by a sense of relief that he’d apparently dodged a bullet since Holden turned out to be a liar.
