Sparks - Wendy Higgins Page 0,61

The shuttle stopped and I looked up, brought back to reality. I climbed from the shuttle, giving the driver a smile and rushing into the automatic doors. “I’m in the airport now.”

“Wow, it’s early there.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep. I’ll just hang out in the crew room until it’s time.”

Shawn and I talked until I got to the crew line for security, which was super fast at this time of the morning. Then I called him right back and we talked as I walked through the terminal to the crew room where I punched in the code to get in. I loved the feel of the airport at this time; the click of my heels and buzz of vacuums echoing in the quiet.

The crew room itself was silent and dim. I spotted three pilots sleeping on couches and recliners around the room.

I whispered, “I should go. People are sleeping.”

“Okay. Can we talk tonight?”

“Definitely.”

My smile was out of control as we hung up. Something had shifted. For the first time, he’d brought up the future, our future. We were making plans. Loose plans, but still. It felt huge.

I tiptoed past one man with a patch of gray hair sticking out of the blanket, his face covered. The next man was so tall his socked feet hung off the end of the couch. I peered over at his handsome face and smiled. Silas. For a moment I let myself marvel at how peaceful and young he looked. People always looked younger to me when they slept, like their worries were gone and they didn’t have to school their facial expressions any particular way. For Silas, in particular, seeing his hair fall over his forehead made him look vulnerable. It was always gelled in a handsome wave.

I quietly sat in the recliner beside his couch, kicked off my shoes, grabbed a blanket, and pulled out my e-reader. This was heaven.

I was quite enjoying the banter between my two characters, and gripped the e-reader tighter when the duke finally snapped, the sexual tension exploding as he lifted her onto the low armoire, pushing aside her skirts—

“Good morning, sunshine.”

I yelped and dropped my e-reader, making Silas chuckle as he sat up, rubbing his face. “What are you reading?”

“Nothing,” I said, flustered. “I mean, it’s historical romance and I’m not ashamed.”

“Okay.” He chuckled and leaned his elbows on his knees to peer over at me, his hair flopping down, his five o’clock shadow longer than I’d ever seen it. I imagined this is what Silas looked like after sex, except with a sheen of sweat. The thought made me want to smack myself. “You must have been at a good part. Sorry I interrupted.”

A maniacal sound escaped me, and I waved a hand.

“No, it’s fine.” I cleared my throat and threw the blanket off, resisting the urge to fan myself. Silas was in a fitted white undershirt, v-neck, and a pair of nylon track pants. There was something really intimate about seeing him out of uniform in his sleepy state. He yawned and stretched, flexing his forearms and biceps.

I blinked rapidly and looked away, fiddling with my e-reader to turn it off and stow it back in my bag.

“Guess I should shower,” he said, scratching his flat stomach through the cotton.

“Yep,” I said, still feeling on edge. “Go wash your…butt.”

WTF, Harlow? I’d almost said willy! Of all the stupid words. I felt my face heat, but Silas only laughed as he walked away.

I played Candy Crush on my phone for about ten minutes and then got up to use the restroom. The crew area was poorly designed. Back in the day the area was just for pilots, and they were all men, so there’d been one room with toilets and showers. They’ve since done their best to separate, but it was still partly shared. Upon first walking in, there were four co-ed shower stalls for anyone to use. Each had a bench area and the privacy of a curtain. Past the showers there were toilet stalls on both sides. A partition had been put up to separate one side for men and one for women.

But when I walked past the showers, a curtain opened and Silas stepped out with his hair wet and no fucking shirt on. Just his work slacks and a towel over his shoulder. I literally stopped in my tracks and stared at his perfect chest and flat abs and the line of dark hair running down into his navy work slacks. He didn’t