Can you imagine?”
“Well, it’s shallow,” G.B. said, “but not dumb. So that’s okay.”
“You’re one to talk,” Ava teased. To Becka: “G.B. led the revolt. Give us khakis or give us death! That was literally one of the signs he made.” Oh. Lord. So many signs. She’d fallen over stacks of them on more than one occasion.
“Damn right. D’you know how hard it is to meet women who aren’t disappointed when they find out I’m not a pilot? When on top of that I’m dressed head to toe in an uncomfortable outfit that makes me look like a mobile blood bag?”
“Is this the part where we pretend to believe you have any trouble getting laid, you flaming man-slut?”
“Hey, I’m good, but that was a major drawback even for me.” Ignoring Becka’s grimace and India’s fake throwing-up noises, he added, “But I gotta give you guys credit. If the pilots hadn’t gotten on board—”
“I see what you did there.”
“—it would have been a lot harder to get management’s attention.”
Ava waved that away. “If you guys have a problem—with the uniforms, a company policy, what have you, then I have a problem. I have a huge problem.” As the giggles started, she added, “That came out wrong. I meant to say I’ll back you.”
“You do have huge problems and you did back us, so no complaints on my—shit.”
As G.B. bent to retrieve the sugar packets he’d accidentally spilled, Ava saw the bulge in his trouser pocket, grabbed her clipboard, and whacked him in the hip.
“Ow!” G.B. straightened and managed to simultaneously glare and look guilty.
“What have I said about bringing Tasers on board?”
“… not to?”
“Not to,” she replied firmly. “With your luck, it’ll fail at a critical moment or you’ll tase the wrong person. And who’s going to mess with someone your size?”
“That’s right,” India put in.
“If anything, a mugger will go for someone small and slender and unassuming, like India here.”
“Hey! Makes sense, though.”
“But it also charges my phone,” he whined, clutching his pocket and backing away.
“Okay, that’s definitely not true—”
“Dammit.”
“—but imagine if it could? Why hasn’t someone invented this? No. Don’t distract me. Check it in your luggage—”
Now he was backing away while looking deeply affronted, like she’d spit in his coffee. “Like a goose? Never!”
“—with your ice axe and pepper spray.”
From Becka: “Whoa.”
“Hey, I used to be a Boy Scout. Be Prepared.”
“Wow. I could actually hear the capital letters when you did that. G.B., let’s play a game where we pretend I’m your captain and just gave you an order and you have to comply: check that thing already.”
“Dammit.”
Ava looked around at the small group. “So now that we’ve gotten my eventful weekend out of the way and are happy with the uniforms and G.B. won’t accidentally electrocute one of us—”
“That was one time!”
“—let’s get to it. Where—”
“—are we flying today?” they chorused.
“You all suck. I don’t say that every time.”
But she was awfully glad to be back regardless. And she hadn’t thought about Tom Baker in the last hour.
Nope. Not once. While she slept, he’d worked through the night, made sure she was feeling well enough to fly, helped her pack, then dropped her off at the airport in time to return for check-in. It was an oddly domestic scene … she’d rarely spent the night with a man in a hotel room and not had sex, so she had no idea how to behave the morning after.
Anyway, she wasn’t thinking about him. This particular moment didn’t count.
Totally out of my mind. Tom, that is. Yep.
So.
Twenty-Eight
“Why is there a tiny hole in all the windows?”
“That’s a breather hole. See how there are actually two windows? The breather hole regulates pressure between both so the outside window takes most of the pressure in case of an accident.”
“But why are all the windows round?”
“Because corners are inherently weak, and air pressure increases that weakness. Round or oval windows spread out the stress and are fundamentally stronger if there’s a pressure drop.”
“Oh. So the likelihood of a fatal catastrophe is lessened?”
“Yes.”
There was a low cough behind him and Tom turned to see a flight attendant with a name tag that read G.B. “Love all the science, but maybe a little less fatal catastrophe chit-chat?”
“I apologize. I didn’t mean to make the other passengers uneasy.”
“Yeah, I don’t care about that. You’re making me uneasy.” But he smiled, a perfectly friendly grin that Hannah cautiously returned. G.B. was such a large man—a lifter, clearly, and quite tall—Tom briefly wondered if he had to turn