3. Paige
Today is elliptical day. I push myself hard, knowing there”s a good chance I won”t be able to work out while I”m in Hawaii. Hotel gyms are always crowded and lack the proper equipment for the kind of training I need. As I finish the workout and wipe the sweat off my brow. The cool air conditioning feels refreshing against my skin after the intense workout.
It”s barely after four. I got up extra early this morning to squeeze eight hours of work into a couple of pre-dawn hours before I had to catch my flight. I did manage to get a meeting scheduled with the whistleblower as soon as I land. I don”t want to be in Hawaii any longer than necessary. If the guy”s a flake, I”ll be right back on the private jet the next day heading home.
I shower and dress in another dress suit that claims to be wrinkle-free fabric. I slip on my favorite Louboutins and collect my things. The car service will be arriving soon.
I arrive at the private airport fifteen minutes early for my flight, as is my habit. I”m disappointed to learn the pilot has not arrived and the chances of leaving early are slim to none. I hate not being early. On time is just not good enough. Pacing the lobby, I”m on the phone, barking orders at junior attorneys and checking my watch every few seconds. I despise tardiness—mine or anyone else”s. Time is money, and in my line of work, every minute counts. I literally bill by the hour. I glance at the clock on the wall, making sure it matches my watch. My jaw clenches as the minutes tick by without any sign of the pilot. My patience wears thin, my pristine appearance belies the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. I have watched several other private jets take off, but I”m still sitting here.
Every minute my flight crew isn’t here, the more concerned I grow with their abilities. If they couldn’t show up on time, how could they be competent? Nothing I hated more than incompetence.
As I”m in the midst of a particularly heated conversation with a particularly incompetent junior, I notice a man saunter into the lobby. He”s dressed in khaki cargo pants, a casual t-shirt, and aviator sunglasses shielding his eyes. His short dark hair is just a little messy, like he doesn’t know how to use gel. He’s got one of those square jaws that just screams alpha male. At first glance, he looks like he just stepped off a runway, and for a moment, I wonder if he”s some sort of celebrity.
But it”s the swagger in his step that irritates me—the way he carries himself as if he owns the place. My gaze narrows as I watch him flirt shamelessly with the woman behind the desk. They”re speaking in low voices, their words lost to me, but the smug grin on his face tells me everything I need to know. He’s got a dimple that gives him a boyish look, which I’m sure has been the key to getting him into many, many beds. One of those megawatt smiles and panties would drop.
But I’m above that. It takes a lot more than to get me excited. Show me a man that can argue a case in court and earns a good living and I’m tempted. A man that can hold a conversation and doesn’t slam beer cans against his skull; that’s what I’m looking for.
“Paige?” Harper’s voice on the other end of the phone pulls me from my thoughts.
“I’m going to be boarding soon,” I tell her. “I think. I honestly don’t know. Please make sure you forward me those briefs. Don’t let them file them until I’ve reviewed. I’ll be working on the flight over.”
I continue pacing while talking. I can’t help but glance over at the man now signing paperwork while flirting with the woman. Suddenly, the woman points in my direction, and the man”s gaze lands on me. He removes his aviators, his eyes traveling up and down my body in a way that makes my skin crawl. I bristle at the blatant judgment in his look.
“Harper, I have to go,” I say and end the call. I level a glare at the man looking at me like I’m on the menu. “Can I help you?” I snap.
He smirks, undeterred by my hostility. He strolls towards me. “I’m Travis Sutton.”
“Congratulations.”
He shakes his head, like he’s been dealing with me for too long. “I’m your pilot.”
I roll my eyes at the audacity of it all. ”Great,” I mutter, my tone dripping with sarcasm. That’s just what I need. I get the cocky flyboy that thinks he’s Tom Cruise. Although, he’s probably about a foot taller than the actor. But he has that same cocky swagger that drives me crazy.
Before I can protest further and demand another pilot, he gets serious. ”I”ve got bad news,” he says casually, as if he”s commenting on the weather. ”The flight attendant called in sick, and we can”t get a replacement until tonight or tomorrow morning.”
I feel the familiar surge of frustration bubbling up inside me. This is unacceptable. I have a meeting in Hawaii that I can”t afford to miss, and delays like this could cost me dearly. ”That won”t work for me,” I snap, my voice sharp with irritation. “I can’t wait until tomorrow. I need to get there today.”
The pilot shrugs, as if to say it”s out of his hands. ”It”s all I”ve got to offer unless you want to fly without someone waiting on you hand and foot. I know your type.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“Look, we offer a full-service, luxury flight experience and we can’t offer it on this flight,” he shrugs. “We can reschedule, or we’ll have to see if we can find you another service.”
I glare at him, my jaw clenched with anger. I don’t like what he’s insinuating. Like I can’t survive a few hours without someone waiting on me. He knows nothing about me. ”I don”t need anyone to wait on me,” I retort, my words dripping with disdain. ”Let”s go.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Are we going to stand here and argue about my ability to sit in a seat without someone bugging me every fifteen minutes or are we going to go? We’re already late.”
He checked his watch. “We’re not late.”
“We’re certainly not early.”
His low laugh is deep and for some stupid reason I find it attractive.
He leads me out onto the tarmac towards the private jet waiting to take us to Hawaii. I leave my suitcase for him to load. That”s the least I can do. I climb the stairs with a haughty air, determined to prove I don”t need any pampering or special treatment during the flight. When I step inside, I have to admit, I”m impressed. It”s clean and the leather chairs look like they belong in a living room. I settle into one of the plush leather seats, fastening my seatbelt with a huff.
”It”s going to be a minute,” Travis says as he casually climbs aboard.
He”s securing cabinets and the door, and I can”t stop watching him. Why? Why am I so interested in him? He”s obnoxious. But I can”t stop staring at him. He turns around and flashes me a dimpled smile. ”Five minutes,” he says.
”I”m timing you,” I retort, unable to stop myself from engaging in his playful banter. As he finishes and settles into the pilot”s seat, I take a deep breath and try to push away my annoyance at the situation. It”s going to be a long flight to Hawaii and being stuck with a charming but infuriating pilot isn”t exactly how I envisioned my day unfolding.
Travis takes his place in the cockpit, preparing for takeoff. The engines roar to life. As we taxi down the runway and take off, I”m impressed by the man”s confidence. I hate it and love it. I know people think I”m overly confident. Maybe I am. But I know I”m good at what I do, which makes me think he knows he”s good at what he does. That gives me comfort. My life is in his hands.
Despite my initial reservations about him, there”s something undeniably captivating about the way he carries himself, with a mix of laid-back charm and professional expertise. As we soar through the skies towards our destination, I find myself stealing glances at him whenever I think he”s not looking. His hands move deftly across the controls. He”s not the typical pilot in a starched uniform and the little hat. There was very little about him that was typical.
I try to focus on the meeting I have waiting for me in Hawaii, the important deal that could make or break my career. But my thoughts keep drifting back to Travis, the pilot who has unexpectedly captured my attention. There”s a spark between us, a tension that crackles in the air between the cockpit and the cabin.
”We”re at our cruising altitude now,” Travis”s voice crackles over the intercom, interrupting my increasingly distracted thoughts. ”Sit back and relax, we should be touching down in Hawaii in a few hours.”
Reluctantly tearing my gaze away from him, I settle further into the plush leather seat. The rhythmic hum of the engines and the gentle swaying of the plane lull me into a contemplative silence. I watch as the clouds drift lazily by outside the window, the sun casting a warm glow over the horizon. I give myself a few minutes to relax. Usually, I have an app that reminds me to meditate for ten minutes. That”s my life. I must have my phone remind me to take a breather. Usually, I was too busy to listen to the app, but for right now, I was going to do it.
I close my eyes and breathe in and out. For a brief moment, I almost feel like I can fall asleep. A nap would be amazing, but I could feel my laptop in the seat next to me screaming at me to get busy. I needed to review briefs, documents, and depositions. But the gentle hum of the plane and the soothing atmosphere created by Travis”s calm presence begin to work their magic on me. The tension and stress of the past week seem to melt away as I relax in the seat, letting myself be carried by the steady rhythm of the flight.
”Enough,” I mutter.
”Excuse me?” Travis asks from the cockpit.
”Nothing.”
I undo my seatbelt and move to the small table with my laptop. The air is a little stuffy. I take off the black jacket and carefully drape it over the arm of the sofa. I don”t want to be wrinkled when I meet our potential new client.
As I power up my laptop and begin sifting through the documents, I can”t shake the feeling of Travis”s gaze on me. Glancing up, I catch his eyes through the open cockpit door. There”s a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he watches me work. A surge of irritation mixed with something else - something warmer and unfamiliar - courses through me.
I clear my throat, attempting to break the tension that is building between us. ”Do you mind keeping your eyes on flying the plane, Captain?” I say, injecting more sarcasm into my tone than I intended.
Travis chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he focuses back on the controls. ”Don”t worry, I”ve got everything under control,” he reassures me with a grin. ”I couldn”t help but notice you seem a little tense. Is everything okay?”
I hesitate, caught off guard by his perceptiveness. ”I”m fine,” I reply curtly, turning my attention back to the laptop screen. But the truth is, Travis”s observation has hit closer to home than I care to admit. I focus on the document in front of me and give it my full attention. I don”t need to make nice with the pilot. It”s not like we”re going to be friends.