Page 79 of Love at First Sighting
El caresses the side of my face with her thumb. “Let’s go.”
We skirt around the side of the building, ducking behind the bushes separating the open desert from the airstrip. We crouch down low and peer over the top of the plants. The airfield isn’t super active at this hour, but there’s still a flurry of airline workers driving luggage carts and golf carts across the landing strips. Air traffic control has a clear view of the tarmac, so we’re going to need to stay out of sight as best we can.
“All right,” I say, surveying. “We’re going to want to keep to the shadows, hide behind those crates, behind cars. Stay out of sight. First cover—that car.”
There’s a truck parked a few feet away from the bushes.
“Then what?”
“One step at a time, Agent Ariel. Let’s get behind cover.”
El nods, pushing her way through the sparse bushes and stepping onto the tarmac. A branch swings back and pokes me in the side.
“Ow,” I mutter.
“Stealth, Agent Carter.Stealth.”
“Iknow,” I snap back.
She keeps low and tugs her sweatshirt hood over her head and is about to slide her sunglasses on.
“El,” I whisper.
“What?”
“Too much stealth.”
“Sorry.”
El scurries across the concrete and slides behind the tire of the truck. I look both ways and join her. El does an honest-to-god roll across the ground to reach the other wheel so we both have cover. If we weren’t potentially going to get arrested, I’d be blushing. Stealth El is really damn cute. In fact, she looks anything but cool and picture-perfect. I think she’d like what she sees in this new look.
Voices echo across the tarmac and walkie-talkies beep, and they’re getting closer. I raise one finger to my lips and press myself hard against the wheel.
“Forte’s expected here within the half hour. Is his lounge prepped?” one of the workers says.
“Yep,” a walkie-talkie voice answers.
“Stocked with the new vodka?”
“…Shit.”
“Hang on,” the worker says. “I’ve got an extra bottle in my car. I’ll go grab it.”
“You didn’t drink it?”
“Wouldyou?”
“Fair, dude.”
I sigh in relief and peer around the wheel of the car before motioning toward a stack of crates. Walkie-talkie guy has his back turned, so El dives out first and I follow. She halts in place, knocking me back onto my ass, and a golf cart whirs by a moment later.
“Too close,” she says, keeping her voice low. “What now?”
I look around us for opportunities. There’s a luggage cart that’s covered by a curtain within reach. There’s a label on one of the visible pieces of luggage.
It’s going to a hangar.
“El…” I motion toward it.
