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She forced the words she didn’t really feel out. “Okay. I’m ready.”
“Brilliant. I’m going to start the engine.” Lachlan’s voice was back in her ear, but his eyes were forwards. He flipped a few switches and nudged a lever. “And now we’re going to taxi.”
He talked her through every step, explaining every little turn and noise and each adjustment he made and somehow it all made her feel better. “I’m going to put some music on.”
Her ears filled with the soft strains of a piano, playing an instrumental version ofO Holy Night. With the hot weather and the sterile airport environment, she’d practically forgotten Christmas was one of the reasons she was here.
There was a burst of radio communication she couldn’t understand, and then Lachlan was back. “We’re going to take-off now, and there’s a fair bit of wind, so there’s going to be some turbulence. It’s going to feel like more than you’re used to in a jet, but it’s completely normal. All right?”
It was absolutely, one hundred percent not all right, and there was nothing at all for her to grab onto. Normally she clutched the armrest during take off and landing. Or, if she was in the middle seat, she clawed her fingers onto the edge of the seat-back tray. All Lachlan’s plane had was a tiny grab bar on the frame near the window, but if there was one thing she didn’t want to do, it was lean closer to the door or the window.
The engine whined louder and the whole aircraft vibrated harder. As the plane shot down the runway, picking up speed, fishtailing slightly across the tarmac, she felt like if her heart didn’t explode, then all her veins were going to rupture. She was too freaked out to dig her phone out of her pocket and scroll through pictures of all the things she loved—the horses she rode, flowers, her brother. Instead, she dug her fingers into both her knees.
Just as she thought she couldn’t take it anymore—the rattling of the plane, the grinding whirr of the wheels on the roughly paved tarmac, the jostling—a big warm hand slid over hers.
“Oh my god! Two hands! You need two hands.” She couldn’t watch, the view from the wide windscreen way too expansive, the scenery visible out the side windows whizzing past in a blur. She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Shhhh, Carissa. Listen to the music.” His voice drowned out the noise and she wanted him to keep talking. But then he took her hand and placed it on his thigh. “I’m right here, and this is so routine, I could do it in my sleep. We’re going to lift off in about two seconds and it might be a little bumpy but it’s like driving on an old dirt road. Nothing to worry about.”
He hadn’t even finished talking and her stomach lurched with the awful, untethered feeling she always got the instant the plane left the ground, and her eyes flew open.
“There you are. Up in the air. And look at that view.” The plane climbed and shook and heaved and she clutched onto his muscled thigh.
She had to be hurting him, that’s how tight she was gripping. “I’m so sorry.” She made herself relax her hold, but the plane pitched and she simultaneously sucked in a breath and grabbed onto his leg all over again. She couldn’t help it.
“No worries, mate. You keep holding on. We’ll get to our cruising altitude and once we get over the Blue Mountains, I’ll find you some smooth air.”
And that was exactly what he did. As the ridged edges of the mountain range appeared ahead, he told her that the road always got a bit rough, thanks to the unique air currents. “That’s true whenever you fly over any mountains. There’s always more turbulence there.” Why had no one ever told her that before?
The land stretched out beneath them, and somehow, it didn’t seem as unfamiliar as she thought it would. It looked a lot like California did in the summer, a patchwork of goldens and browns, dotted with the dark green of trees.
Lachlan kept the music playing and any time the turbulence started up, he talked. He told her about the readings on the instrument panel. He explained how he was keeping the wings level and what speed they were going and what altitude they’d climbed to. He told her when he was adding power and adjusting the nose and trimming and a whole bunch of things she didn’t understand. At some point, he said he was using his feet to fly and dropped his hand back over hers. Gently, and oh so slowly, he pried her fingers off his thigh, one by one.
“You want to try being the one at the controls?”
In no universe did she want to be responsible for keeping the plane in the air. She gave him a tight smile. “Maybe next time I fly Devine Air.”
“So, you think there’ll be a next time?” He turned to look at her and when she met his gaze, he gave her a little wink.
He might’ve held her hand and played her music and been better at soothing her anxiety than anybody she’d met ever, but that didn’t mean anything. He was too charming for it to be real, too perfect for it to be anything other than an act, and no way was she falling for it. So she did what she did best: sass.
“Depends on how you land this thing.”
“Is that a challenge?” Lachlan actually grinned.
“If you want it to be.”
“I do. But I’m going to need to know what has to happen for me to win this game.” His whole demeanor hadn’t exactly changed, but he thrummed with even more aliveness than before. The man obviously liked a competition, a game. “What’s the criteria for this landing?”
Carissa ticked off the particulars. “One, it has to be a smooth landing. It has to feel like the wheels just glide seamlessly onto the runway. No hard bounces. Two, no excessive braking. I do not like getting thrown forwards the second the plane lands. Three, the plane has to stay level on the approach. No swooping and swaying from side-to-side, like we might miss the runway altogether.”
“That’s it? You sure you don’t want to make it a little harder for me?” His confidence was something else. Maybe it was just what she needed when they were in the air, but she wasn’t sure she’d like his swagger so well once she had two feet on the ground again.
“Nope!” She made her voice chirpy to hide her very real nerves. If he could hit even one of the things on her list she’d be happy.
“And if I win, how long do I get to collect my prize?” He was taking the challenge far more seriously than she’d expected.
“Let’s say…” She wanted to keep the pressure off. “A year.”
