The corner of his lips tug into a grin as he watches my brain misfire.
“You are flying this thing?
I draw in a stuttered gasp as I stare at the complicated dashboard. He better be joking.
“How are you going to watch all these flashing lights by yourself?”
“Didn’t you know I’ve got my pilot licence?”
“Are you… can you… is there another pilot with you?”
A laugh broke from his chest. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” “But aren’t there usually two pilots?” My voice increases two octaves.
“Only for commercial flights.” He says with a chuckle as he does a thumbs up to someone outside on the steps.
“Relax, Charlie. I’ve flown hundreds of times, maybe over a thousand. I’ve been flying for over a decade.”
“But…. what if you die?” I cry. “What if you have a heart attack in the air?”
“Don’t worry, this thing can fly itself. You can drive a shift car, can’t you? It’s very easy to pick up.”
“This isn’t funny, Danny.” I want to throttle him. “Do you have anything in your medical records I need to know about? When was the last time you had your heart checked? Eyes checked?”
“No illness. Just murderers. We have to go through medicals to keep our license. I’m as robust as superman.”
I’m entirely unconvinced.
“What if there is an engine failure?”
“It’s just a big computer. You work in IT. Turn it off and on again” he bits his lower lip, trying not to laugh.
“Ha bloody ha. I think I’m going to be sick.”
“All clear, sir.” A guy shouts from the steps outside.
He nods at him. “Thank you.”
Then he twists the massive leaver of the airplane door and bangs it shut. I let out a weeping sound.
“It’s ok, sweetheart. I promise.”
He steps into the cockpit, guiding me into one of the seats with both hands.
My breathing is so shallow I can’t speak when he leans over to attach my seatbelt. He yanks hard on it to ensure it is secure, then kisses me lightly on the lips.
I sit stiffly like a human doll watching the graphs, flashing lights and other gadgets do strange things.
“Is that bad?” I point to a flashing red light on my side of the panel as he flips buttons and switches on the panel of instruments.
He waves his hand at me dismissively, and I resist the urge to smack the man.
“Safety checks done.” He looks over, expecting me to be reassured. I’m not religious, but I’m quietly praying to Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the Holy Ghost as he buckles himself in.
“Taxi to runway two-seven right via alpha two (A2), bravo (B),” a voice booms out over the speaker. He talks back to someone in equal gibberish as I make whimpering noises in the corner.
Then we are moving. The plane slowly creeps forward and arrives at the start of a runway.
He’s flicking more buttons up and down when the deep voice announces, “Piper two-zero, cleared for takeoff runway zero-one.”
“Cleared for takeoff runway zero-one, Piper two-zero,” Danny repeats in a calm voice.
My hands grip the seat in a death grip as he accelerates at power down the runway, and I feel every bump like I’m on a bicycle cycling over a carpet of hedgehogs rather than sitting on a plane.
A strangled moan escapes from my throat, like an animal trapped in a cage slowly dying. He doesn’t hear it over the roar of the engine.
We tilt upwards, and we are climbing so steeply I feel like we are going to slip back down again.
My head shoots back against the seat, and I close my eyes. 60 minutes he said. Maybe I can ask him to knock me unconscious then wake me up when I get there. If I get there. “You ok?”
I open one eye to peer at him.
“Fine besides the raging panic attack.”
Then the roar stops, and we tilt back horizontal.
He looks at me, concerned. “I never realised you were so scared of flying. I’m sorry, Charlie.”
“I’m not,” I say through gritted teeth. “If I’m in a Boeing triple 7.”
“In this thing, I feel like Mary bloody Poppins on a bicycle. Like we are just going to drop out of the sky at any time.”
The plane shakes, and I let out a deep-rooted scream making him flinch. “It’s just a little turbulence. You feel it more on the smaller planes.” “Sure.” I blow out through my cheeks.
I look over at him. He is watching screens, checking gauges, and listening to air traffic control.
It’s the sexiest yet most terrifying visual of my life. My life is literally in his hands.
I want this man so badly. I want him to be mine, only mine.
If we make it to the ground alive, he is going to get the best sex of his life. Right now, airborne, I’m fucking furious that I was never consulted in this life-threatening expedition.
There’s another jolt, and the plane drops a little as we travel through thick clouds. Rain spills down in sheets against the windows. I can’t see anything out the window, so he must be flying this thing blind.
The muscles clench so hard in my stomach I think I’m going to throw up.
“Bag. Need bag.” I scramble to get my handbag from the floor, then take out the bottle of red wine in there. Thankfully it’s a screw cap.
“Sedation,” I explain as I take a large gulp from the bottle.
“How do you have time to do all this?” I look at him in wonder. He’s as cool as if we were on cruise control down the motorway. “You’re a CEO, a cook, a pilot, a sex god. Seriously superman?”
His sharp gaze lands on me, and he chuckles. “Superman. Let’s keep that name.”
“I’ve got at least a decade on you, remember?”