Page 82 of Mountain Grump

I do.

I’m assuming there won’t be any service while we’re up in the air. But if I can get myself out of this anxiety phase, I want to take some pictures. Gods willing, I’ll never fly in a miniature plane again, so I want to make the most of it. Assuming we don’t die.

Ethan taps things on the screen in the center of the dashboard, or whatever it’s called, and I wonder if I have time to run back to the bathroom.

I don’t really have to go again, but knowing I won’t be able to go for the next few hours is stressing me out.

But before I can ask, the propeller starts to whirl.

“Ethan.” My voice comes out as a quiet croak. I try again. “Ethan.”

He turns to face me, but instead of replying, he hands me a headset.

He puts his own on, adjusting the little microphone piece in front of his mouth, then he does something with the controls, and we start to roll forward.

Focusing on breathing, I pull the clunky headphones over my ears and mimic his actions so the mouthpiece is near my lips.

“What is it, Firecracker?”

I jolt at the sound of Ethan’s voice through the headphones.

I glance at him, then look back out through the windshield. “W-why do you call me that?”

It’s not what I was going to ask him. But he’s already told me he’s a pilot. The other dude in the hangar seems to know him as a pilot. And asking Ethan now if he’ssuper surehe knows how to fly a plane seems pointless. Because we’re moving.

We exit the hangar, and I squint in the morning sunshine.

Ethan shifts and reaches back between our seats.

He leans, and I’m about to offer to help him with whatever he’s trying to get, but then he pulls his arm back and holds a glasses case out to me.

I take it and look up to thank him. But I pause.

I don’t know how he put them on without me noticing, but Ethan is wearing a pair of dark aviator sunglasses. The lenses are nearly black, and the thin metal frame is silver.

And… wow.

How do sunglasses make him even hotter?

I swallow.

“Put them on, Tilda.”

Watching his mouth move, I don’t jump when he speaks this time.

Carefully, I unsnap the case and pull out a pair of glasses identical to the ones Ethan is wearing.

Clearly these are here for his passengers, not just for me personally, but I silently like that we match.

And I like that he’s prepared, because I left my sunglasses in my truck.

I lift them to my face and slide the earpieces under my headphones, settling them on my nose.

When I look back over at Ethan, I swear I catch the hint of a smirk.

“How do they look?” I try to give him a smile, but my insides are too twisted to pull it off.

I can’t see his eyes through his lenses, but I watch him tip his head, and I can practically feel his gaze drag down my body.