Chapter 11 #2
I’m so focused on devouring this pancake that it takes me a beat to connect the dots. “Oh,” I say with a swallow. “Not bad, just disappointing.”
He takes a sip from his coffee then adds a fresh pancake to his plate. When he pours the syrup, I know I should look away but watching his lips wrap around the tip of his thumb and quickly suck it clean has me mesmerized.
I need to stop noticing stuff like this. It’s giving me ideas I have no right to entertain.
“Not about the community service, I hope?” he asks after the drip-licking ritual is finished and the pitcher is back in the middle of the table.
I draw a slow breath. “My date for my dad’s party had to cancel.”
A little muscle in Linden’s jaw flexes. “Ah.”
“He’s not really my date,” I blurt. “He’s just a friend. From work. Russel’s going to be there too and I didn’t want to go solo.” My god. Babble much?
Linden scrunches one eye shut in an exaggerated wince. “That sucks. Why is your ex going to this party? Is he close with your dad?”
“Russel played for him at Meridian High. It’s where we moved when we left Finn River.”
Linden’s brows knit together. “Russet is your high school sweetheart?”
I laugh. “Russet? ”
“No offense to potatoes.” He smirks.
Linden has crafted a derogatory nickname for my ex. Hmm. “Not high school sweethearts, but that’s where we met. When we both got jobs with Leap…” I shrug. I don’t want to talk about this.
“Can’t you uninvite him?” Linden asks, a dark look edging his eyes.
“He was Meridian’s star kicker for three years.”
“How about a girl pal? I think Quinn could take him.”
I laugh. “Legit.” I cut another bite. My stomach is stretching in the most pleasant way. I thought I was hungry last night. “But she’s climbing Mont Blanc.”
He cocks his head.
“Quinn’s a card-carrying member of the ‘You Can Sleep When You’re Dead’ club.” I glance at the deck. “Speaking of which. Where do you sleep out here?”
“I have a cot. It folds up.” He takes another bite.
“What’s wrong with your bed?”
“Can’t see the stars from my bed.”
“You could install a skylight.”
He takes a sip of his coffee. “Yep.”
The hesitancy in his tone and his blank expression have the combined effect of a door creaking shut. Like he doesn’t want to talk about this. Why?
“Don’t you get cold?” I ask.
“What else is on your to-do list today?” he asks like he didn’t hear my question.
“I should be getting ready for my five-day Alaska trip.”
He sets down his fork and sips from his coffee, a contemplative look on his face. “Why’d you become a flight attendant?”
“I flunked out of college.”
The coffee cup in his hands freezes halfway to his lips.
“Kidding,” I say. “Sort of. I went to Boise State for a year and a half but I felt kind of lost. I didn’t know what I wanted to study and I’m not really the best student so it felt like pouring money down the drain.
There was a flyer in my dorm for Leap Airlines, and I applied. Four months later I was in the air.”
He gives me a skeptical glance. “So it was some kind of whim?”
“Maybe more like serendipity? I knew I wanted to travel someday. I just didn’t consider it would be my job.”
“And you still like it?”
“I love it.”
His curious smile makes my insides warm. It’s so…genuine. Have I ever seen this smile before? “Because of the adventure?”
It occurs to me that I’ve never seen him with a suitcase. He goes to work, comes home, goes for a long run, comes home, goes paddling, comes home. “It’s a fun way to push outside my comfort zone. The best part though, is meeting new people. The world is really a very welcoming, interesting place.”
He gives me a skeptical arch of his eyebrow. “Do passengers ever give you trouble?”
The sudden turn in the conversation makes my stomach pitch like I’m cresting a rogue wave. “Rarely.”
“You ever had to take anyone out?” The twitch in his lips is a sign he’s about to tease me.
“I lived through a crash once,” I say to redirect this conversation. I’m not about to share my mistake or explain how one moment of carelessness resulted in an injury and a lawsuit.
Linden’s eyes go round. “Fucking seriously?”
“Landing gear malfunction.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
Brace! Brace! Brace! I called out while we waited to touch down. “No. Hard landing though. And a fire, but they put it out quickly, and the cabin wasn’t affected.”
“Where was that?”
“Spokane.”
He points his fork at me. “Was Russet flying the plane?”
“No. Two very experienced pilots were, actually. Everyone walked away, thanks to them.” I take another sip of coffee. “Did you always know you wanted to be a firefighter?”
He folds his napkin and sets it next to his plate. “No, but it’s a good fit.”
There’s a finality to his tone that pricks my curiosity, but I’m still guarded after his question, so I leave it.
“I’m supposed to go to a party tomorrow.
Annaleise and her housemates host one every summer and I rarely miss it.
” I brought Russel once but after an hour, he disappeared.
He said he’d been outside helping get the bonfire started, but I’d looked for him there.
At the time, I was annoyed. But after San Diego, I realized it was part of a pattern.
Linden frowns. “I think I got invited to the same party. Guys at the station have been talking it up for weeks.”
One of Annaleise’s housemates is close friends with a firefighter, if I remember right. Small towns. “We could go together.” I realize too late what that sounds like. “Not together together,” I correct while reaching for my water glass. “but like, together.”
“Right.” His eyes tense and the silence turns awkward.
My pulse taps harder into my throat. Did I overstep?
“I’ll take you, if you want,” Linden says before standing to collect plates and empty mugs.
Crutching around with my throbbing leg might not be my best idea. Annaleise will understand if I bail, though she’s been so busy these past few months, I’ve barely seen her.
“I’ll see how I feel,” I say.
When Linden returns, he sets a scrap of paper and a pen in front of me. “Make me a list of what you need from your place, and I’ll grab it.”
Twenty minutes later, the table cleared and the dishes done, Linden goes to retrieve my things, leaving me alone in his house.
There’s a stillness and warmth that I don’t feel in mine.
Is it the retro accents in his kitchen or the wood beams that seem to glow?
Or the homemade quilt I’ve been curling up with on the couch?
And yet, there’s a lack of femininity in the space.
Did Linden change things after his divorce? Or did he move here after?
Though I’ve barely been upright today, the tight throbbing in my leg and hip is ratcheting up. I could take a quick shower and lie down, but a long, soothing soak in a bath—beneath a skylight no less—would feel pretty amazing.
I swing over to the stairs.