My chest tightened. Okay, perhaps I spoke too soon. Fear unspooled as the first turbulent jiggle shook us.
The Evermores clutched their children.
I hugged my collection of handbags and backpacks.
Another jolt of air pressure and slam of rotor blades reminded me we weren’t safely on the ground anymore. We were high in the sky, at the mercy of gravity and nasty weather.
Why did I do this again?
No one spoke as we flew farther out to sea.
My breathing turned shallow as the turbulence steadily became worse. I stopped breathing a couple of times as pockets of air opened beneath us, hurtling us down only for an updraft to propel us back up.
I’d never suffered airsickness (until my previous flight), but the brewing of illness returned, steadily growing the longer we flew. We became a snake in the sky, slithering left then right. We’d yaw sideways then correct. We’d bounce upward then stabilize.
Through it all, Galloway sat up front, muttering to the pilot on a frequency I couldn’t hear. The tension in the two men’s shoulders fed my anxiety. Galloway’s chocolate hair looked almost as dark as Akin’s black in the gloom.
Akin was a good pilot, remaining calm and focused. But he couldn’t hide the discomfort or immense concentration it took to remain airborne in such storm-churned weather.
I closed my eyes.
Don’t think about that.
Think about where you’ll be in an hour or so.
It wouldn’t be long before I could check into heaven, say goodbye to pig-headed Galloway, and be on my own once again. I’d rent a private room with no noise or city chaos. I’d have the best sleep of my life and then relax and compose new songs around the pool after a delicious breakfast of pastries and fresh fruit.
Sounds perfect.
After a week of recharging, I’d return home fully relaxed and able to work hard for my new agent and producer.
The stress trickled from my blood, even as another swirl of bumpy air jerked me against my seat belt.
“Bit rough, isn’t it?” Duncan nudged his shoulder with mine.
Unwillingly, I let my illusion dissolve to look at him. “We’ll be okay.” I didn’t know where my words of comfort came from—they had no foundation.
Amelia shifted Pippa on her knee, bumping me. “I never did like flying. Would much prefer a boat or something closer to the ground.”
I smiled, forcing myself to be friendly even while squashed in a helicopter and drowning in people’s bags. Galloway’s messenger bag sat on top, right beneath my nose. The scent of his aftershave (or was it possible to smell that good with no manmade sprays?) intoxicated me with every inhale. A delectable-terrible mix of musk, cedar, and...was that liquorice?
It was one of the best scents in the world—much better than the oil-fumy helicopter.
Damn him for enticing my nose as well as my eyes.
Pippa reached out and grabbed my wrist. Her warm fingers clutched me as another burp of air buffeted us.
Without thinking, I brought my wrist to my lips and kissed her knuckles. “It’s okay. Just the wind.”
Amelia gave me a grateful smile.
Pippa hugged her stuffed kitten.
“What’s your cat called?” I had to yell rather than whisper comfortingly with the crackling headset.
Pippa bit her lip, shaking her head shyly.
Amelia answered for her. “Puffin.”
“Puffin? That’s an interesting name for a kitten.”
Amelia smoothed her daughter’s matching copper hair. “Puss in Boots. But someone had trouble with the ‘Puss in’ part and it slowly morphed to Puffin.”
“Ah.” I ran my fingers over the well-loved cuddly toy. “It’s a perfect name.”
Pippa beamed.
Focusing on the little girl rather than the rocking helicopter, I said, “Want to know a secret?”
Pippa’s eyes shot wide, the headset far too big for her tiny head. She nodded.
“I have a kitty, too. But it’s real. I have a house sitter looking after him while I travel, but I can’t wait to cuddle him like you are.”
Pippa’s mouth fell open.
Amelia laughed. “Isn’t that cool, Pip? Perhaps, if you’re good when we get home, we can see about getting one, too.”
The undiluted joy on the girl’s face almost brought me to tears.
For a while, we all sat in our individual thoughts. We flew quickly over islands and ocean. My daydream came back, and I allowed the trance of icy cocktails and sunbaking to steal me away from the whop whop of rotor blades.
I lost track of time.
Sleepiness found me, even with the air turning us into a tennis ball and hitting us with its battering blows. Conner’s voice mingled with his father’s as they tried to play ‘I Spy’ out the rain-drenched windows.
Pippa snuggled with Puffin, nuzzling into her mother’s neck, and Galloway turned to check on us, his eyes shadowed by his glasses but still intense enough to conjure goosebumps.
I sat frozen beneath his inspection. His throat worked as he swallowed, never tearing his gaze from mine. I waited for him to turn around so I could breathe again.
But he didn’t.
Slowly, his eyes dropped to my lips, warming and cooling at the same time.
What do you want from me?