Page 5 of 7 Miles High
“Matt’s a good guy. Are you vacationing?”
We pull away from the gate and head for the runway as the flight attendant does her spiel. The click of seat belts punctuates the cabin.
“Bachelorette party. You?”
It’s hard to read his expression. Hesitation? Disappointment?
“It’s just a guys’ trip.” He dips his chin and looks up at me. “Please tell me you’re not the bride.”
Oh, he’s flirting.
“I’m not. We’re meeting Jenna there.”
“Good. Because how would it look to the others when they see us having a drink together tonight?”
I almost forget my fear of flying as the plane lines up on the runway and the engines start their thrust. I’m feeling pretty revved up too.
“I’m not sure what we’re doing tonight. But if it works, we could probably meet up,” I say casually.
I like this new me. Divorce has given me a straighter spine. I’ve been far too accommodating when it comes to men. After Alex, I can’t be that girl anymore.
But in response to my nonchalant attitude, Parker gets this adorable look. If I’m not mistaken, he likes that I just played hard to get. This is friggin fun.
Hour one of the girls gone wild bachelorette blowout is a success.
Lift off.
* * *
Two hours into the flight some seats have changed. We’re close enough to hear bits of everyone’s conversations. Names, professions, where we live, all exchanged. The news Parker’s a stuntman checked my macho loving box. Damn, that’s one hell of a load of kryptonite.
Our vow to be emotionally detached is under fire on two fronts. Maybe three.
Both dominating personalities, Maggie and Matt are each trying to assert their positions. Obviously marching toward a night of debauchery if they stop preening long enough. Whether it’s tonight is the unknown. She likes to dangle the carrot. Poor Matt. It’s fifty-fifty odds at this point.
The quiet guy who’s a preacher took the middle seat between Elizabeth and Holly. They’re playing cards.
Parker’s brother James sits with his head against the window, shade down, eyes closed. Not sure what’s happening there. He looks detached from his friends.
Then there’s us. We’re sitting in the same seats, but he’s working his way in. The eyes, that mouth, the deep scar across his eyebrow, all teasing me relentlessly.
You need to be careful, Natalie.
That was a good three-second pause of self-reflection. Now I can resume my lust-filled fantasies of the stuntman across the aisle.
An order comes over the loudspeaker. “Flight attendants, Cabin Crew, please be seated.”
Without hesitation the crew finds their seats.
The captain’s announcement takes me by surprise. What’s happening?
Looking down the aisle, I see an attendant buckling up. She reaches for the intercom mic.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has turned on the fasten seat belt sign. Please return to your seats and keep your seat belts fastened until the sign has been turned off.”
My fingers wrap around the armrests as the anxiety rises. I recognize fear coming to life.
“Don’t worry,” Parker says, watching my quickly declining cool. “Cancun’s noted for air turbulence.”
