Flying the Friendly Skies

Nothing irritated Danny more than being late. He’d arrived early enough to be the first in line to board and therefore the first to settle into his seat. So, when he heard the final boarding call for his flight and still hadn’t found Madelynn, he cursed and sprinted toward the gate. Not only did he upset a stranger and couldn’t apologize, now he’d have to sit in a sweaty shirt for a long flight.

“I’m sorry, sir,” a petite, blond ticket agent said from behind the counter. “But we’re overbooked. If you’d like we can—”

“Are you kidding me?”

She went rigid.

“If you read this.” He held up his ticket. “It clearly says I have a seat on this plane.”

“Actually, there’s no assigned seat on that ticket, and because you arrived just before takeoff, all available seats have been assigned.” She plastered a fake smile on her face.

Danny was convinced he’d be cursed with beautiful women telling him what he couldn’t have for the rest of his life.

“I can either book you on a later flight ... ” She pursed her gloss-covered lips and gave him a once over. “Or you can upgrade to first-class for a fee.”

“A fee? Shouldn’t I get upgraded for free since you overbooked?”

She blinked with the full control of someone who handled a lot of angry people. “If you’d like, I can book you on the next flight. It leaves at nine a.m. tomorrow.”

He squeezed his hands and leaned in, lowering his voice. “I can’t leave in the morning. I have to arrive in the morning. That’s why I bought a ticket for this plane.”

There wasn’t an emergency he rushed back for, but a promise to a friend that he’d be there. And if there was one thing most important to him, it was keeping his promises.

“I’m sorry, sir. There’s nothing more I can do about it.”

He had a feeling there was a lot more she could do about it, but he blew his chance for a favor the moment he snapped.

She showed all her gleaming teeth. “Would you like the upgrade then, or no?”

His eye twitched as he slapped down his card.

“Enjoy your flight.”

Danny twisted to fit through the door of the plane. Despite Miss Spiteful Ticket Agent, both he and his thick frame were grateful to see the roomy and cushioned first-class seats. Taking a few more steps in, his small excitement fell.

In the seat next to the one he’d have to sit was another woman. From what he could see, she was gorgeous, of course, because God hated him.

He tried not to stare, but what the hell? Dressed head to toe in black, his seat mate appeared to have stepped out of a 1920s’ fashion catalog. A cloche hat, complete with a rosette on the side, dainty gloves, and buckled thick-heeled shoes, all accented the cape or cloak—he wasn’t sure which—that swallowed the rest of her. Half her face was hidden behind wide, dark-lens sunglasses.

Who wears sunglasses on an airplane?

That thought went nowhere because his eyes snagged on her only visible feature. A wide and full rose-pink mouth with a cupid’s bow on top.

Dammit. He took a deep breath and lifted the overhead compartment to rid himself of his coat. He’d have packed it if he’d packed anything at all. But packing was the last thing on his mind when he rushed off to the nearest hotel. Not that he wanted any of their stuff anyway.

The overhead bin was jammed, so he turned to the one behind him but found it stuffed to the brim.

“Can you sit down?” said a short, balding man from behind him. “Not all of us can afford first-class tickets, so I’d like to go mingle with the rest of the peasants back there. If you don’t mind.” He pointed over Danny’s shoulder.

Why did people keep trying to pick a fight with him today? He squared up with a few choice words on the tip of his tongue, but a soft hand tugged his arm. The woman in black pointed to the space beneath the seat and whispered, “It should fit there.”

Between peasant passengers and whispering women from the roaring ’20s, Danny wondered if he’d died without knowing and got trapped in hell. He plopped in his seat, too tired to continue the stare down with Baldy, and proceeded to stuff his coat under the seat, one punch at a time.

“Thanks,” he mumbled to the woman next to him.

Instead of answering, she nodded and retrieved a brown leather journal from inside her cape. Her black-gloved hand went back in and retrieved a teeth-marked pencil.

Realizing he owed her at least a few words for helping him, not to mention they were stuck together for the night, he decided to try conversation. “Don’t like computers?”

She shook her head and turned away from him, continuing to scratch words on paper.

Sufficiently satisfied with his failed attempt to be nice, he decided to try to get some sleep.

“Champagne?”

A tall brunette with plump red lips bent over him offering a glass of sparkling liquid on a tray. She was the perfect picture of what most men imagined a female flight attendant would look like. Hair neatly pinned back under a cap with a curved figure accentuated by her button-down jacket and pristine skirt sitting just above the knee.

Danny decided in that moment that if a man ever needed to find a beautiful woman, all he had to do was not want one. He blinked and shook his head.

“Yes, please,” Whispering Time Traveler answered.

The flight attendant didn’t flinch at her whispering. If anything, she acted as if the incident was a normal occurrence. Danny wondered how many weirdos she encountered on a regular basis when she smiled sweetly to the flapper beside him and said, “Let me know if there is anything more I can do to make your flight more comfortable. Otherwise, I’ll be back when we’re in the air with your dinner.”

“Not for me.” Danny yanked out the pillow from behind his head and smothered his face. He kept it there until she left, surprised when he started drifting off to sleep the moment the plane backed away from the gate. Maybe because he hadn’t slept since Jessica dropped her bomb. Or maybe because he’d learned just how much he’d relied on the comfort of her body next to him to fall asleep.

He shifted in his seat. Deep sleep called to him, and he didn’t fight it. He needed strength for what waited for him when he landed. What he didn’t need was the nagging question in the back of his mind of why the scent of citrus flowers followed him into his dreams.

Someone tapped his cheek.

“Hmm?”

“We’re here,” a woman said.

“Jess?” His head popped up from a comfortable shoulder, and he dropped the pillow he hugged.

“Only me, I’m afraid.”

Danny blinked hard and rubbed his eyes before looking toward the voice. The 1920s woman filled his line of sight. Or at least the back of her head since she faced the window.

A sickening brick dropped in his stomach. She wasn’t his wife, or soon-to-be ex-wife since the divorce was uncontested. No, a stranger sat beside him with no clue of the raw memories being repainted in his mind.

It had started with a smile. The smile Jessica had while she listed off all the men she’d been seeing behind his back.

With that fresh punch to the gut, Danny cursed under his breath and stared into the blank screen on the back of the seat in front of him. His phone pinged, and when he glanced down, a calendar notification reminded him to order a spa package for Jessica’s upcoming birthday.

He pressed the “off” button so hard his phone case cracked.

The plane bumped as the wheels touched down and he released a breath, turning to stare beyond the cloche hat. His hometown in the distance passed by his line of sight in short bursts.

His chest tightened. When Jessica had begged him to elope and move away because the cold island winds and the isolation made her depressed, he thought he was making the same sacrifice his father had made. The sacrifice of leaving their family history and heritage behind for a warmer climate to ease his mother’s joint pain.

Instead, Danny had abandoned everything and everyone a month ago with nothing to show for it.

A memory of how he’d woken flashed, bringing his attention back to the black hat beside him. “My God, did I sleep on you? Why didn’t you knock me off?”

The woman shrugged.

“But I’m a stranger, and I know for a fact you paid good money for this seat. Which I’m sure didn’t include drool.”

She chuckled, and he froze. He knew that sound.

“I don’t know that we’re complete strangers.” She turned and extended a gloveless hand, but all he saw were the powder-pink nails. “If it helps, we can exchange names with a handshake and call it even.”

His head snapped up from her hands, and he finally caught sight of her entire face—and, oh God, her face—her slap-him-upside-his-stupid-head, gorgeous face. All sense and reason evaporated as Danny full-on, jaw unhinged, eyes bulging, gawped. Even Sloppy Bartender Chris didn’t hold a candle to his reaction.

He croaked, “Madelynn?”

She glanced around and quickly put her glasses back on. “Shh, I don’t need a mob.” She smiled and pushed her hand toward him again. “Call me Claire. Madelynn is the name reserved for strangers who’ve never drooled on me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m an asshole.”

Her smile faded, and she dropped her hand, folding it with the other on her lap. “You were hurt by someone. That doesn’t mean you’re an asshole.”

She toyed with the ring on her finger, twisting it in a circle, and he wondered where her thoughts drifted.

Recovering, she tucked her journal inside her cloak. “Besides, honesty, even if it’s misinformed, is best. I’ve always preferred a kick to the face than a stab in the back.”

Never had he related to a statement more. “I never shook your hand, sorry.” He offered it. “I’m also sorry for the kick to the face. That’s not my normal way with nice strangers.”

Really, really pretty strangers he kept himself from adding.

“Well, since I was both kicked and drooled on, perhaps that’s enough of a payment to finally get your name?”

“I’m in a lot of debt.”

She softly laughed and he smirked.

“Danny Larsson, ma’am.” He fake-tipped a hat and released her hand before any more of her warmth threatened to soak into him. “Why were you whispering last night? Are you feeling sick?”

“Oh, um.” She squeezed her fingers together. “I thought you might not be happy about being stuck next to me, so I’d hoped with my change of clothes and sudden laryngitis, you wouldn’t recognize me.”

“I almost missed this plane trying to find you.”

She removed her sunglasses. “To find me?”

He studied the curious look in her eyes, brows pinched together. “My words were meant for someone else. They never should’ve been given to you.”

When she merely nodded in response, his eyes swept from her vintage clothing to the restless fingers tangled together on her lap. Her sleeve bunched slightly, revealing a scar on her left wrist. Faded pink and slightly raised, told him it was more recent.

She pulled on her sleeve, and he blinked away, reminding himself that this beautiful, soft-spoken woman was the same one who sat next to him while he slapped insults at her. Why hadn’t she yelled at him? Or at least given him a dirty look. Nothing about her made sense.

She gasped, snapping him out of his thoughts, and removed the journal from her cloak again.

“Everything okay?”

“Just have to write this down before it runs away from me.”

“Runs—?”

She held up a finger, silencing him, and scratched swirling script across the paper. Pausing once to gnaw on the teeth-marked pencil, she went back to writing and finished with a long sigh.

“Do you mind if I ask what you’re writing?”

“The end of my career,” she said. At his blank stare, a wide smile spread across her face. “So, I was right. You don’t know who I am.”

He grimaced. “Sorry, no. I don’t watch a lot of TV. Are you an actress or something?”

“Only in private.” He blinked, and she laughed. “I’m a writer, or was, if my agent is right about my ruining things.” She propped her forehead against the window and fogged it with her breath. “It’s why I decided to go to Solsken. I needed someplace quiet to figure things out away from nosy cameras.” She rested back against the seat, missing Danny’s paling face.

“Solsken?” he said with the proper Swedish accent.

“Are you familiar with the Island of Sunshine?”

“You could say that.” He rubbed his beard, suddenly wishing he’d trimmed it. “Though there isn’t a whole lot of sunshine this time of year, you definitely won’t find snooping cameras there. Except maybe from tourists with phones. But there are plenty of places to go if you want to avoid them.”

“You seem to know a lot about it. Is that where you’re headed?”

“Yeah.” He scratched his chin. “It’s my home.”

Claire had no idea how hard those four words were to say. Solsken wasn’t just his home. The Larssons helped settle the island over a century ago, and his guilt from needlessly walking away tore deeper.

“Brandon and I had planned to visit, but we didn’t get a chance before ... ” She stopped and bit her lip. Remembering how uncomfortable she’d become when Chris offered condolences for her late husband, he refrained from giving any.

“Anyway, I’m here now.” She toyed with her ring again and smiled, but Danny noticed it was a practiced smile. The kind of smile one uses when forced into the public eye no matter what went on in your private life. Not wanting to dig too deep into what quieted her, he scrambled to think of something else to talk about.

She let out a long sigh.

“You alright?” He winced. He hadn’t meant to ask that, but an invisible weight drooped her small shoulders, and out of nowhere, he had the urge to make it leave.

“Have you ever had an epiphany?” She stared down at her wedding ring. “A moment where you realized you haven’t seen things the way you should, but when you discovered it,” her breath shuddered out, “it’s too late?”

He swallowed hard. “Yes.”

She slowly faced him. “Then I guess you’ll understand why I can’t answer your question.” Light-brown eyes penetrated his and he told himself to look away, to not search the depths that lingered inside, but he found himself sinking deeper.

She broke the bond by facing the window again, and he internally kicked himself for stupidly staring at her.

“Tell me more about your home,” she said.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “the residents are private but also a close community. They’re loyal to each other and the island.

“We thrive from tourism, but all of us look forward to getting our island back in the winter when they leave. Other than that, life in Solsken stays pretty much the same. So, it should suit your need for quiet. Will you be staying at the Solsken Inn?”

The taxiing plane slowed, and she slipped on her gloves. “No, I’m not so great with crowded groups of people. I found a nice private cottage for rent.”

They pulled up to the gate and Danny stiffened in his seat. Eight hours next to this woman and he only used five minutes of them to get to know her. He couldn’t explain what he felt. Anxiety? Panic maybe. He only knew it gnawed at him. Like something important was slipping away.

Gripping the armrest between them, he blurted the first thing that came to him. “If you’re ever in need of a friendly face, drop by and see me. Though, for a quiet place to write, you may want to show up in the earlier hours to avoid a crowd. Sometimes they can get a bit rowdy.”

Her brow furrowed. “Thank you.”

The moment their eyes locked, he regretted the offer. Being close to her was the last thing he needed. Bolting up, he yanked out his coat and made an awkward salute without eye contact.

“Enjoy your stay in Solsken, Claire.” He charged forward to be the first off the plane.

“Goodbye, Daniel Larsson.”

Even with the soft way she said his full name, he never looked back because he knew this was how it started. The smiles. The laughs. The attraction. All the little things that led to an attachment. And it’s the attachment he couldn’t allow again. Without attachment, there could be no painful detachment—and pain was precisely what he planned to avoid.

So, when he was halfway up the loading ramp and remembered he never told her where he could be found, he continued without going back.

Too much was at stake. The gaping wound of his heart, to be specific.

He didn’t know how to heal what he didn’t break, but he knew one thing—if he ever found a way—he’d never let it be broken again.